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XXIII Politics 6.2 Melissa

I had been run ragged the past week but I finally had a chance to meet up with Aaron and some of his mates. They were staying in the tent his father had vacated when he took over the office in the upper deck of the plane.

“I think it’s stupid leaving. I think it would be better to build walls here and trade for supplies.” Danelle, an Afrikaans girl said.

Jessica, daughter of one of the hunters who died, said “No fucking way. It’s too dangerous out here. I want to be safe behind city walls.”

Aaron added, “Danelle, I don’t think you’ve experienced a real winter. This light dusting of snow is nothing compared to a real blizzard. And from what I’ve heard we only have a few weeks to get behind city walls.”

Andries, a burly rugby player on a gap year, said “Fok. I’ve fought some of those things. I want to be as far away from them as possible. And we’re starving.”

“The caravan coming to escort us is bringing food.” I said. “We just have to last another week.”

“Man. Enough with this depressing shit,“ said Tyrone, a black kid from Los Angeles who had been on a celebratory holiday after being accepted to study computer science at Stanford. “Can we continue the game.”

Most of them had only been exposed to Dungeons and Dragons from watching Stranger Things. But we were all bored. I really didn’t want to GM another game after losing half my party. But I only had the physical rulebooks for Pathfinder and our access to electricity was strictly rationed. We tried sports but the only one we all knew was football; and it got tiring when Andries and Aaron wrecked the rest of us. While I’ve lost a couple stone in this disaster; I’m still not the most athletic girl in the world.

The new party had just finished creating characters and I was about to start them in a tutorial dungeon. A slave camp where they’d have to escape. Tyrone was playing a wizard. Andries was a champion, pathfinder second edition’s answer to a paladin. Jessica was a ranger. Aaron was a barbarian. Danelle was a witch. And Tyrone’s younger sister Kanesha was a druid.

The session went as well as one might expect. It was a large party and there was a lot of arguing about the rules. Eventually I had to go get some real work done. But we got most of the way through without any character deaths.

Aaron gave me a hug as I left. At which point my brain threw a wobbler. I didn’t have any problems with normal social situations. But put me close to anything vaguely romantic and I freeze up. Eventually I blurted out a “thank you” as I left blushing.

I first made sure to count the stores of food we had available. Stretching it out over a week would have been tough. But Ariadne had spotted a giant boar maybe half a day’s hike from us. She said the forest was pretty clear of other threats and she could weaken it with her bow. The passengers with special dietary requirements were forced to make due. Even regardless of the whole pork issue; kosher and halaal meat required specific slaughter methods. So any meat was a bit of a compromise for them. And since we were banned from going too far from camp without special permission even game meat was virtually non-existent.

There was a stream nearby where we could do some ice fishing. No one expected the thawed giant frog to be able to spit toxic slime. But we managed to kill it without any deaths. Otherwise we were down to stretching scavenged roots and acorns into a horrid “stew”. Most of the pets had disappeared before we announced that they’d be slaughtered. Rumour was they were being hidden somewhere out in the woods. But I suspected many had entered the cook pots regardless.

Next on the list was checking with Dr. Singh and the rest of the medical team if they had any new emergencies to report. “Nothing urgent has come up.” He said. “But I’ve heard rumours we’re going to be hiking to a town. We’re going to need to rig up stretchers for a couple of the patients. And many of the rest shouldn’t be exerting themselves to that extent. Two patients with diabetes, your friend Jeremy’s foot, and several other chronic conditions.”

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“They said they’re bringing pack goats with supplies. Maybe they could be ridden?” I suggested hesitantly.

“I’ve never heard of a riding goat. But in this world anything may be possible. I still want the stretchers. Our stroke victim and our double amputee are going to need a more reliable surface than a goat’s back.”

I nodded as I went to ask Ariadne if the goats were big enough to be ridden. She was rationing her translation potions so we had to do the whole song and dance. She looked horrified so I was sure I had screwed something up.

After that came the preparations for the meeting. They didn’t take too long. I made sure our improvised podium was on our improvised stage on top of an empty cargo container. I made sure our one megaphone had working batteries. And then I made my rounds reminding the passengers that the meeting was starting soon.

It still took them an hour to assemble. At that point Mr. Ferucci climbed onto the stage and started his speech.

“Fellow passengers, we have received word that a friendly city is sending aid. They have sent soldiers and supplies to help us travel to their city for shelter over the winter. It will take three or four days of hiking to reach the river. After that boats will carry us to the city.”

“We can’t hike that far. We should stay here,” someone shouted.

“We can’t stay here. We are only on the edge of winter. The weather is going to get much worse. If we stay we won’t be able to leave the plane to trade for supplies. Our experts believe many of us will die over the winter if we stay.” Mr. Ferucci said calmly.

“We will die if we go out there. There’s too many monsters.” Someone else screamed.

“As I said before; the city is sending soldiers who are experts in fighting monsters. And they’re sending pack animals to help us carry our gear. I’m not saying it will be easy. But it is a better option than staying here over the winter. I was planning to put this to a vote. But I think we all know we have limited options here. I don’t want to waste any time. I’ll give you all a day to think on it.

“Tomorrow we’ll need to start getting ready to move out en masse. I don’t know how much will fit on the pack animals. We need to decide what we can take with us and what needs to be left behind. We have about a week until they get here. There’s not much point in dallying. Thank you for your time.” Mr. Ferucci climbed off the stage and wiped his brow.

“I’ve always hated public speaking,” he said. “My best friend’s father encouraged me to join the debate club to get over it; but it’s the main reason I decided not to go into politics full time. Until now, I guess. Let’s schlepp back inside. We need to discuss contingencies if the vote goes wrong.”

At that I made up my mind to say, “if they refuse to go we can leave them behind with a fair share of the supplies. Even with the vote I don’t think we can force them to do anything.”

After a pause he said. “My main worry is what will happen if they try to stall the preparations. We need warmer clothes to be sewn and bags to be packed. And they’ll want to keep a lions’ share of the supplies. They’re already not happy with the rationing.”

When we reached his office five men and women were waiting for us. “Mr. Ferucci,” Howard Jones, an English financier, said, “when you asked for our support you said you’d listen to our input. And we have not been consulted on any of this. We are highly disappointed.”

Kim Chae Won, a woman high up in a major Korean corporation added, “We all agreed that Reynolds actions were highly illegal and now you’re doing the same. This is not acceptable.”

Another was about to speak when Mr. Ferucci erupted, “I personally asked around a hundred people to support me. I told each and every one of them I’d listen to their input. I don’t give a shit about your money. Your abilities are what interest me. You are all skilled negotiators. I would have asked you all to go on the expedition if Reynolds hadn’t forced me to use more underhanded tactics. I still would like you to lead trade agreements when we reach the city. We need to squeeze as much profit as we can out of what we have. Just don’t talk about it. A lot of people aren’t going to be happy I’m prioritising you over them.”

“We’ll hold you to that. Just remember you’re not a dictator. Your predecessor was replaced. You can be as well.” Said an American rancher named Steven Warner.

When they left Mr. Ferucci groaned and said, “I’m meshuggeneh for offering them that deal. Melissa, please keep this quiet. We’ll deal with it once we reach the city. If it gets out before we might be done for.”