From Out of the Sea (IC, Forest Only)

[Algonquian Nations]

The Algonquian Nations Whaling Party was making its way back towards land after an unproductive hunting expedition, when the ocean waves appeared to be suddenly and unusually high. There was no wind, and no sign in the skies of any incoming weather. In fact, the sky was clear and the sun was setting, and it was generally a calm and beautiful night.

Unlike more advanced nations, the hunting party did not have instruments and electronic depth finders. The most they permitted themselves were outboard motors and binoculars, small concessions to modernity in the midst of their traditional lifestyle. Points of land, stars, the position of the sun, prevailing currents, and location of islands was enough to give them a reading on their position.

"People, look at this!' a warrior who was keeping watch at the stern suddenly yelled. "You seeing this?," he added.

Behind the boat, and several nautical miles away, a large rocky plateau had risen above the sea level. It wasn't marked on any chart they'd made, and wasn't a known landmark.

The whalers watched in amazement, as the plateau appeared to become more visible, even as the current grew stronger and carried them further away. Qiye, the head of the hunting party and captain of the vessel, turned off the motor and came around back to look. He picked up his binoculars and stared at what seemed like forever at the object on the horizon.

He finally spoke up.

"Our ancestors told the story of an island nation that sank beneath the waves many years ago, before our grandfathers were born. That's where it was," he said, all while staring out at sea. Then he turned to his hunting party.

"We need to get back to the People, and let them know what we have seen."

He returned to the cabin, pushed the boat full throttle, and headed towards the Algonquian homeland.

That evening, the World News Service announced the sudden existence of the island. It was now just a matter of time until the island gave up its mysteries.

[Esterild]

Immediately upon hearing the news, Esterild's populace was thrown into a frenzy of speculation, excitement and ecological paranoia. The Esterildian Council convened an emergency session.

Delegates were in nearly unanimous agreement: this new island must be kept in pristine condition, its environment left untouched by the hungry modern hordes. Perhaps a few academics might be permitted to study its ecology. Since the island was as yet unowned and unclaimed, Esterildians naturally felt it was their duty to protect it from despoilment. Only one very pressing problem remained...

"If only that dratted news report had mentioned where the island IS," someone like Russ Feingold fretted.

The Minister of the Environment scoffed. "Likely nobody knows. After all, that whaling party was navigating based on landmarks and astronomical observations. They probably have no idea where they were. Whenever it's time to sail back home, I bet they just bump into land masses until they find the right one."

Esterild has been making great advances in modernity of late, but old habits die hard. When the Council finally came to a decision, they seem to have forgotten all the technology they had at their disposal. They decided to send teams of Esterild's famed river runners out into the ocean, armed with the traditional oars and pivot-poles, to row around the Forest maritimes until they could locate the island for themselves.

The Council did, however, remember to supply each team with a GPS device, so they could record the location of the island once it was found.

[Caracasus]

OOC: Do we have an OOC for this yet?

Persephio Province - Inigo University grounds



The news had buzzed across the university as quickly as it had spread across the communes of Caracasus. A new island! Caracasusian satellites had picked up the island remarkably quickly - though not soon enough to get an accurate recording of its conception. It lay in the water as if it had always been there. As if it had not appeared one day like some children's tale of long-sunk Atticci. Mist across its face had rendered images indistinct and blurry.

In his lecture hall, Dr Yakob paced up and down. He had a class to deliver - seventy six students had requested that he deliver lectures on isolated biomes - so-called "bubbles" of nature, cut off in some way from the rest of the world. A quick set of instructions to his heuristic device had included references to this new land in his lecture this morning yet...

He longed to go there. He had applied, of course. So had damn near every scientist with a passing interest in doing something other than teaching or lab work. Geologists, biologists, zoologists and botanists had all filed their requests. It was in the hands of Industry and Trade (Caracasus's central distribution network) now. Industry and Trade's resident scientists had removed themselves from any selection process as a matter of fairness, no doubt with some serious regrets.

In a land of qualified (over qualified in many respects) scientists, Yakob placed slim hope in his selection. Nonetheless as his students filed in, datapads ready for taking notes or checking the latest news on the island, Yakob dreamed of being one of the first Caracasusians to set foot....

---

Council Elect buildings - Jevellit Metropolitan District


Jevellit Metropolitan District

The Council Elect occupied one side of the River Tarr. Nineday House, the headquarters of Caracasus's revolutionary army occupied the other. This offered protesters ample scope to pick a site to protest the latest issue or tragedy. The troubles of the Peninsula war were not receding. A humanitarian disaster had engulfed the tiny nation of Menthi, and the international community still locked horns on the best course of action. Caracasusian troops were under fire on the border whilst allies and enemies stared each other down on the great expanse of ocean.

People were becoming almost immune to the images flowing from Menthi. Starving civilians, bombed hospitals and aid clinics and line after line of those blank faced walking husks, victims of the Carosi plague too far gone for medical miracles to assist.

The new island offered a topic for debate that was not connected to the horrors of the ongoing conflict, and people grabbed at it. Following overwhelming public request, the matter had been debated and a referendum called swiftly on what was to be done. Caracasus had spoken – a scientific discovery team would set out from Quoris City within a week or two. The freighter Orpheus had been refitted with an array of scientific equipment and temporary, sterile habitation modules - even a Kavverit landing pad.

Nineday House had commissioned the frigate Jassir to escort the mission, after which time it would depart until required once more to escort the group back. The media communes were busy as ever; not quite getting the science right enough for most scientists and still managing to confuse many more people with technical terminology they were forced to search the net for to sound informed enough to their co-workers.

---

So a man walks into a bar...


The Red Lion in Parsoh - originally a Bohemivarian Ex-Pat pub, now very much in the hands of the Mortics

The Red Lion was a popular drinking establishment in Parsoh. The tiny city-state on the peninsula that was rumoured never to sleep. Most likely because a sleeping Parsohian would potentially wake up to find his apartment ransacked, his cards stolen and his car broken up for parts.

The Red Lion was a favourite haunt of the Mortic family. One of the city's oldest crime syndicates, the Mortics had undergone significant changes in the last few months. Instead of relying on the older methods of smuggling freely available drugs out of Caracasus to sell at a profit, instead of shipping weapons and slaves to discerning customers the world over, the family had diversified.

“Knowledge. That's why we're going.” Hemi did not look impressed.

“Knowledge? Of what? A bunch of plants, a few weird looking animals? Forgive me uncle, but who gives a flying fuck? A bunch of scientists – hah! They're not exactly high earners.”

Hemi's uncle sighed. His nephew was a bright enough lad really, but lacked the imagination. Around them the slightly illegal and very illegal dealings of the Red Lion's clientele continued unabated. No-one cared what you did or said in the Red Lion unless they were interested in something you had to sell. The Militia left the place alone as long as their monthly payments were made – an arrangement that suited everybody – apart from perhaps the Zaria who found themselves traded like animals, or those who had become hooked on whatever latest synthetic drug the Mortics had accessed. The lights were dim, the glasses grimy and the staff surly. The Mortics had made the place their own.

“Listen Hemi, it's not scientists – it's everyone. Companies all over the world pay top Yen for this kind of knowledge so they can stick a patent on it faster than the other guys. It'll be an auction! Now we're not scientists, we're not researchers but bugger me if I don't know who will be going to the island.” He grinned, showing several missing teeth.

“The Caracasusians are sending a special scientific mission there. They'll be collecting data galore! Millions of Petabytes of data – DNA samples, Heisenburg scans of animals... even tissue samples... all ours for the taking! There's just one small problem. They've got a frigate escorting them and security is tighter than a duck's arse.”

Hemi snorted. “So how the fuck are we going to get to the island?”

His uncle smiled. The gesture did not quite reach his eyes. “Use your imagination boy. Who do we know with submarines? Who do we know who might go in on this little venture for a cut?”

Hemi's eyes widened. “The Brotherhood? But they're....”

“They're men Hemi. They like the feel of Syndicated Yen as much as the next man. Get your stuff ready. I hope I don't have to tell you to pack a gun. Something a bit bigger than that silly peashooter that you're carrying”

Hemi blushed. He thought his holdout piece had been concealed well, though he should have remembered that nothing stayed hidden from his uncle for long...

[Algonquian Nations]

[Having heard the whaling party's report of the formation of a new island across the sea, the Sa¢em Council of the Confederation met in emergency session at the Šiniqoq Fire. All nine tribal Sa¢ems attended on the First Day of the Full Beaver Moon, and ∞iondanš, Chief Sa¢em, opened the Council....]

"Gentlemen, I have called this council as a result of the recentreports that a new island has emerged in the eastern seas. While this normally would be of significant scientific interest, our Natural Resources Director, Don Melanšin, has contacted me with some urgency concerning this issue. I have invited him to speak to you all about the concerns he has...Don?"

"Thank you, Sa¢em. Gentlemen, I don't know how much you have know about the significance of this event; it is relatively recent, but already the nations are gathering to send scientific explorations on the new island..."

Sa¢em ∞idis interrupted, "Are you concerned that there will be pillaging of the new island? Plants, animals, the earth itself?"

"Yes," responded the Director, "but even worse. There are stories that go back for generations of an island nation that once existed in that area. They were a First Nations People, who worked the sea as we do. There are any number of inconsistent legends as to what happened to the nation, but all end the same way: somehow, the island simply sank below the surface the ocean, never to be seen again."

"Were they Algonquian Peoples? Were they ancestors of our own people?"

"Again, we don't know; the legends all suggest that they were, but there were no physical artifacts left behind to say so with conviction. But I would say it is certainly a possibility. And that means that if this newly risen island is the same as the one that disappeared years ago, then buried beneath the surface may lie the key to knowing the answer to your question. Shell middens, tools, writings, fabric - all would provide us with clues. But even more important . . . if the island disappeared as quickly as we all believe, it means that the graves of our ancestors may be located on that island. If the world descends on it to perform scientific research, it means that once again our people's very bones will be stolen and treated as exhibits in museums and curiosities passed from one lab to another. We can not permit the raiding of the island; we can not permit the nations to plunder what lies within its lands and waters."

"This is deeply troubling," added Sa¢em Noeaq. "We must do all we can to stop them. We need to appeal to the World Council of International Antiquities to oversee any . . ."

He was cut short mid-sentence by Qin.

"Nonsense! I am tired of begging international agencies to safeguard our people! They talk and talk and delay and compromise and nothing ever gets done - except we lose again. We need to act, and we need to act NOW!"

"What are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that we immediately call upon our Warrior Society to set sail for this island, and set up an encampment. We are the only ones who have ever safeguarded our people, and we need to take direct action..NOW."

The Sa¢ems looked at each other in silence. The gravity of the situation was dawning on each of them.

"Are we in agreement on this course of action, gentlemen?" ∞iondanš finally asked.

The Sachems nodded in agreement.

Very well then. I will summon the Warrior Society. And I will accompany them in the encampment as the leader of our People. Qin, I will ask you to rally the people to organize supply shipments, as we may be encamped for a while. We will need water, food, and clothing ferried to us on a regular basis, for however long this lasts."

"Of course," answered Qin. You can count on the Narragansoqs."

Very well, then. This council is adjourned. Let's get to work.

[Mount Seymour]

Aboard the M/V Martinsdale, Northern Sea of Basking Turtles

First Mate Argus Lesile stood in the bridge, viewing the control panel of the Martinsdale.

Almost the end of my shift, he thought to himself.

They were due to arrive in Saint-Étienne, Monpiterre with their shipment of wheat on Friday, right on time. All seemed to be calmly running, the ship plowing through the water quickly. Proudly, Argus reminded himself—he was part of the Novûe Line, the premier Seymourian shipping company. It was his duty to prove the quality of Novûe and the values of Mount Seymour to the Monpiterreans.

Surveying over the bow of the ship and on out across the ocean, Argus saw nothing but the sea, the sky, the clouds. This must be the most beautiful view in the world, he thought. So peaceful—nothing to disrupt your thoughts at all.

Beep! Beep!

Suddenly, the ship's radar started blinking. Argus stood back to look at the main monitor, scrutinising it for any hazard in their way. And—up ahead—there was what seemed to be a landmass of some sort—but where?

The radar must be malfunctioning…

He walked over to the GPS console, but there was no land indicated anywhere within a hundred miles. He checked the navigation screen—it recorded a depth of 1,000 feet.

He once again scanned over the horizon. Nothing but clouds.
Wait——

Clouds didn't hang so low they touched the ocean. Clouds didn't get smaller at the top and wider at the bottom. Clouds weren't slightly green tinged.

"Captain!" the First Mate called into his radio. "Captain, I need you at the bridge. There's some land that's ahead but it's not on any of our maps. We're heading straight for it."

The captain rushed up to the bridge. After some quick changing and replotting of the course, the enormous ship slowly turned itself away from the mysterious land. Argus looked out through the side view window, trying to glimpse all he could of the land before it was gone. As they passed it by, he could see that it was an island, one with a large, smoking volcano at its center. Vegetation looked lush and green, up to a sharp point when all growth stopped.

Huh… I wonder what it's like there…

"Mr. Lesile," the Captain barked. "Get me those coordinates before we lose the island."

"43.200128:-04.018571, sir."

"Good. I'm going to report this island to the Maritime Office. Maybe somewhere in that bureaucratic nest they'll get someone out to examine it. Or at least fix this damn schmuck of a map that we have."

[Frieden-und Freudenland]

Clark Meyer staggered down the dimly-lit corridor that led down into the meeting hall with a 40-degree angle. He had to clutch at the railings in order to keep his balance - which was harder to do with one hand, as his other hand was holding a coffee cup. ''I should have resigned,'' he said. ''This job is not for me. I speak 7 languages, surely I must be able to find another job. I could perhaps translate books.''

As he was lost in his musings he was greeted by Paul Polinsky, a happy-go-lucky fellow whose never-ending energy he could not endure, especially on such days, when he had had to drag himself from the bed at 3.00 a.m. after receiving an emergency call from the Head of FUFIA. ''How'ya doing buddy?'' Paul asked, cheerily. ''Be careful, you'll spill your coffee.'' ''Just leave me alone,'' Clark grunted. Paul smiled and turned his head away from his colleague, knowing well that he had a bad temper whenever he had to wake up early and not wanting to anger him.

The steep descent finally ended. Clark and Paul had now started to walk on a level corridor. Paul raised his head and looked at the moss-covered, damp, smelly ceiling. ''Can you believe that the Kolaxa Sea is just 100 feet above us?'' he asked. ''To be honest, I sometimes fear that it may break the concrete ceiling with its weight and we can drown here.'' Clark was too moody to respond to Paul's comments.

Suddenly the corridor terminated in front of a door that looked more like a vault door.



Paul slowly turned the wheel and both men had to squint their eyes dazzled by the light streaming out.

The moment they entered the hall, they were met by the stern looks of Christina Lafayette and a bunch of confused people in suits seated around the large round table. ''Oh, we are honoured to have you, gentlemen.'' said Chief Lafayette with a sarcastic tone. ''Did you sleep well? I hope we didn't wake you up. What would you like to have for breakfast? Shall we make omelettes for you?'' ''We are extremely sorry for being late, Chief Lafayette,'' said Paul Polinsky apologetically. ''I received your call and immediately rushed here. You know it's a long way down here. And... and you know my friend Clark has asthma and he doesn't tolerate damp air very well. And the air in the corridor is always stuffy and damp. And you know...'' - ''Shut up and sit down!'' Chief Lafayette interrupted. ''We have no time for your excuses now. We have an emergency.''

Paul and Clark took their seats with puzzled looks.

Chief Lafayette turned to Clark Meyer and spoke, ''So Agent Meyer, is there anything you want to tell us about?'' Clark Meyer was surprised. ''I assume you should have something to tell us about, since it was you who woke us up in the middle of the night.'' he blurted out, somewhat indiscreetly. Chief Lafayette cast a contemptuous glance at Clark Meyer. ''You have been appointed as the Head of the Intelligence Division for Geography for a reason, Agent Meyer.'' she said. ''And if a mysterious island suddenly appears on the Sea of Basking Turtles, I should receive this intelligence from you, not from a tabloid newspaper published in Monpiterre.''

''Mysterious island?'' Clark Meyer gasped. He was flabbergasted. ''I am really sorry. I - I am mortified.'' he stammered. ''I-I-I didn't know.''

''Being sorry does not give us back the time we lost.'' said Chief Lafayette with a solemn and chastising look. ''This was a grave mistake. The only reason I am not firing you is because I have noone to replace you with at the moment. --- And there will be some paperwork. But one more mistake -- even a very slight one -- and you can look for a job on the yellow pages.'' Clark gulped and swallowed the words he wanted to say in his defense. For once, Chief Lafayette was so damn right. He had failed. Though he wouldn't really mind getting fired, he thought the best thing to do was to keep silent at such a tense moment.

''Chief Lafayette, what are we going to do now?'' asked Admiral Ralph Wood, a serious 75-year-old man who was both mentally and physically in good shape, despite his advanced age. ''Whatever is your decision, know that the army is at your service. Shall we invade the island?'' ''No, no,'' Chief Lafayette protested. ''That's not our purpose. It's never been our purpose. Even if it were, this is the worst time to undertake an invasion. Many nations in Forest are already over-excited about this island and are sending research teams there. Some are interested in the island's natural beauties, some crazy wackos romanticize about finding their ancestors' bones on this island - which they suppose to have harboured an ancient civilization before sinking into the sea. Whatever their interests in this island, an invasion is the most politically incorrect thing we can do. It would attract too much negative attention.'' ''Then what do you want us to do?'' inquired Felicity Potansuu, second-in-command to Chief Lafayette. ''There is one shocking truth that our friends have not yet discovered, but FUFIA has - despite the ridiculously big delay with which we found out about this island.'' Chief Lafayette spoke. At this point her eyes wandered through the room and landed on Clark Meyer's face. He lowered his eyes and inspected the dents and chinks on the table. ''Have you noticed anything peculiar about the coordinates of this island?'' she asked the agents. Silence. ''Well, our satellites have been following the island since the time we learned about its existence - that's to say, for 5 hours. And during these 5 hours the island has moved southward by about 30 feet.'' she said. ''That's impossible!'' yelled Olga Shishkina, an agent from the Intelligence Division for Geology. ''Such a motion, such a gigantic displacement would only be possible with a huge, huge earthquake. And our seismographs did not detect even a single vibration on the Earth's crust in this part of Forest. You must be mistaken. The measurements of the satellites must be wrong.'' ''No,'' said Chief Lafayette, with her usual, imposing manner. ''The measurements are all correct. But you are right that there is no geological activity in the Sea of Basking Turtles. Because no geological activity is needed for the island to move.'' Chief Lafayette briefly paused for dramatic effect and drew breath. The apprehension in the room was great. ''Because the island is no island to begin with...'' she muttered. ''It is alive!''

[Caracasus]

Control deck of The Jassir - Sea of Basking Turtles


Stock photograph of The Jassir on maneuvers[/img]

The Commander Elect of [i]The Jassir sat in her chair. The seat had moulded itself comfortably to her predecessor, and she had yet to make it hers. The damn thing had a personality of its own, the armrests in particular would snap up at the slightest tampering with the lever and the buckles that restrained crew members during battle snapped short at the slightest movement. She had left them undone. The odds of war decreased with every nautical mile they put between them and Caracasus.

"I'm getting it again."

One of the S.C.O.P.E operators leaned back from his console, sighed deeply. "Yep... and it's gone. S.C.O.P.E keeps picking up something out there... then it vanishes." He sighed, drank deeply from his mug and cracked his knuckles. "I know that this boat isn't exactly cutting edge, but would it have killed the engineers to run basic diagnostics? The damn thing keeps mistaking shoals of fish for submarines."

Commander Elect Eiris frowned. "Have you run a full sweep?"

"No, no I haven't Commander. I ran a full sweep the first time we got something on S.C.O.P.E that vanished. And the second time - remember that? Eight hours delay. Then six. Hey, you want to order me and mine to go over this section of the seabed with combs - be my guest. Someone else can explain it to the scientists though." He banged the side of the borderline obsolete holoconsole and swore. "Look, if we stop every time this tub throws up an anomalous reading, we'll have a really detailed map of absolutely no submarines and no bloody scientific base on the island."

"Eh. You have a point. Okay - continue."

---

The freighter Orpheus

Yakob addressed the crowd of scientists, researchers and everyone else who would make the expedition into the unknown. He had not expected in his wildest dreams to be standing here. He had not expected Industry and Trade to select him... he had found it even more surprising that the expedition had voted him to command it. Still, it made a kind of sense, he mused in his tiny cabin. His speciality was unique ecosystems. He had studied flora and fauna that had been cut off from the rest of the world for thousands of years - examined the peculiarities, the odd niches that were created in such places. Birds that had long since lost their fear and ability to fly from millennia without predators. Elephants the size of ponies and reptiles the size of large dogs. Evolution came up with some interesting creatures, if you knew where to look.

The briefing was one that he had been dreading. He did not know how so many people would react to the restrictions he was about to place on the team. The formalities dealt with, he began to outline his proposals.

"Firstly as I am sure you are all aware, we are dealing with a unique ecosystem. Something unseen and untouched and it must remain this way. There are to be strict checks on all craft leaving for the island. Sonic emitters are to be placed on all cargo and constructions for six hours before departure - we cannot afford to transport rats or mice to this place. Once the base camp is established we will be using an airlock and decontamination system. Inside the cabins you may do what you want, but outside protective masks and clothing must be worn at all times. we cannot afford to contaminate this ecosystem with even the smallest microbes - and in return I have no wish to report back that half of us have been wiped out by some new pathogen...."

The speech continued in this vein for some time, as the ship rocked in the swell. The island was approaching now - the long range S.C.O.P.E provided by The Jassir had confirmed its location... although the readings were confused. It appeared that either the satellite that took the initial picture or The Jassir's sensors were out of alignment by approximately fifty foot - beyond what could be considered reasonable error.

Still - the island! An unknown ecology just waiting to be explored and documented! Yakob had spent his childhood reading the exploits of famous explorers - how they bravely set off through the blank spaces on the map only to find as he got older that the map was no longer blank. It had been completed, filled in. A part of him had died at this revelation - the part that had found new life now.

---

Brotherhood of Pirates Submarine

The three pirates chatted in silent hand gestures. Hemi's uncle did not understand a word of their fast moving fingers and hands - Hemi knew a little. Picked up from his childhood on the docksides where the handslang had first originated. The language, developed originally for those working in noisy conditions worked equally well in a submarine where the objective was to stay as silent as possible. Sound carries.

The tiny compartment that held the kitchen and laughably titled "recreation area" was made smaller still by the sheer amount of carpet tiles and acoustic squares riveted to every surface, floor and wall. One of the pirates went to check on the navigation array whilst the other two chatted. Hemi watched.

"See no contact - no detection yes?"

"Not happy. (Unknown) than it. No journey no pay."

"Is good. No problem so far, no?"

"Problem begin. Shallows. No depth. No cover. Warship upside."

"Elephant warship. No fire first."

"So surrender? (Unknown) that!"

"Half pay for half job in account. Worse things."

"Swap bunk?"

"No. Fat old one farts"

Hemi stifled a laugh as they insulted his uncle. The two pirates looked coldly at him. They had not known he could understand them. They stiffly walked out the kitchen area, leaving Hemi alone once more with his thoughts.

[Algonquian Nations]

It was unusual for the nation's Chief Sachem to lead the Warrior Society, but these were unusual times. Besides, this situation might well call for calmer heads to prevail. Sachem ∞iandanš

pronounced, "WHY-en-dansh"

had full confidence in his Warrior Society, but it's leader, Bele-Tyen, was known for being a bit reckless and hot-headed...and Bele-Tyen was not happy in the least to now be 'second' in command under the Chief Sachem.

The three boats landed on the south side of the island, where the gradient seemed gentlest. As the two dozen men climbed onto the island, they wondered if they had chosen the best place to land: the ground was soft, even spongy, and every footstep quickly filled with water, like walking through the mudflats of a swamp. They had expected a firmer, even rocky and barren shoreline; instead, the spongy mud appeared covered with green algae or seaweed exposed by the island's emergence. The party headed inland, where it appeared that the land was firmer and drier. More than once the party stopped suddenly and looked at each other as it seemed that the very ground trembled or shifted a bit...but it was minor, and very subtle...and, upon second thought, probably just a function of the incredibly wet and slimy landscape. There were only about 300 meters between where they were and the apparent end of the marshy flat, and they moved quickly, making sure no one sunk or got stuck in the muddy plain.

[Mount Seymour]

Aboard the R/V Sérrion

The ponderous Research vessel steered slowly around the tip of a small peninsula protruding from the northeast corner of the island. Why couldn't they have given us a newer ship, thought Jacques Russell, the captain of this expedition. The Sérrion was over twenty years old, creaky at sea, and needed a good new painting. You'd think they'd give us something better for such an important expedition as this...

He walked out onto the deck, watched as a pair of marine biologists lowered a plankton net, looked ahead at the stark cliffs surrounding the north side. Maybe around this bend we can land.

The captain walked down the steps and around, into his cabin to put away his coat. It was getting warmer here in the tropic reaches. He pushed through a door with a small placard: "Pascal J. Russell, Captain"-- he never used his actual first name-- and set his coat down on a bench.

Bzzzt!

A dispatch from the Maritime Office!

Russell strode back up the stairs, into the control room. He read off the wire:

FORWARDED DISPATCH

FROM: Naval Intelligence Service, Seymourian Marine Department
1233 Sesién Ave Quixotea MS

----------------------

The M-16R satellite division and the Air Mapping Division are currently imaging and mapping the sectors around and containing the 'Mysterious Island' reported. 
Expected full results are to come in Monday, but we are excited to have preliminary images of this island from above.
Below is an aerial view of the island, taken last Wednesday. It appears largely mountainous and contains an active volcano. This view was taken from the Southeast.

Russell peered at the photo. Quite a forbidding island. He tried to find his location in the picture. Just north of the little spit of land on the north side. But he couldn't see the spit. Even at that low a quality of photo, you still should've been able to see the spit. But it simply wasn't there.

It can't have just vanished...

[Frieden-und Freudenland]

Clark woke up in his cabin and stretched. It had been a bit hard for him to sleep, as the vessel had constantly been shaking in the choppy sea. He got up and looked at the mirror. With his electrified blond hair, he just looked like Ronald Rump, the mascot of the McRonald's fast-food chain. He grabbed his comb and tried to get his hair into its normal shape as fast as possible. ''I should really, really quit this job,'' he murmured. He didn't understand why he was being sent on this mission. Christina, that crazy woman, had insisted that no island would ever appear out of nowhere, and even if it did, it would not move; so this gigantic spot on the map, which deceptively looks like an island, should in fact be something else. Of course Clark knew that sometimes islands could suddenly be formed, for example in volcanic areas huge lava outflows could rise up to the surface of the ocean and lo and behold - you would have an island. Plus, for anything he knew, Southern Forest had high volcanic activity, so why not? As for the movements of the island - well, they could just be errors in the measurement. Needless to say his theory didn't explain why such a recently-formed island could have a thriving vegetation. But he was sure one could come up with an explanation that would be more logical than asserting that the 'island' was a living creature. As these thoughts crossed his mind, he had already finished dressing.

He went up to the deck and inhaled the cool breeze. He was used to the hot and humid air of Southern Forest, such cool weather was actually quite rare around these latitudes.

''It's gonna start raining soon, you'd better come inside, son!''

Clark turned around and saw the cheerful face of the captain, who was an old but sturdy man. A sea wolf from Mount Seymour, who has known the entire Kolaxa Sea and the Sea of Basking Turtles like the back of his hand.

''Come on, I just brewed tea. You don't wanna miss that.''

For the first time since his mission began, Clark smiled. Then he nodded and followed the captain into the navigating bridge. When they took their seats inside with their tea cups in their hands, the captain turned to Clark. ''So you and your research team are travelling to this island to study its geography?'' he inquired with a sly look on his face. ''No,'' responded Clark firmly. ''The other researchers on this vessel are geographers affiliated with Worcestershire University.''

''And how about you?''

''I am an independent researcher. I fund my own studies. You know, kinda like a hobby, but more than a hobby.'' He tried to smile and seem natural.

''Then you must have a lot of money, rich kid!'' said the captain and laughed heartily. ‘’This journey is way too expensive for private individuals to undertake.’’

Clark hoped that the old foxy captain did not see through his disguise and slurped his tea, regretting the noise he made.

After a brief pause, the captain resumed the conversation. ''So what kind of an island is this? I've been sailing on these seas for half a century, and never seen a moving island. What the hell?''

This came as a shock. Was it common knowledge that the island was moving? More importantly, was it even true? Clark thought it would be wise to not say anything. ''I don't know. Who said the island was moving? That's utterly crazy,'' he remarked.

''Nobody said it,'' retorted the captain. ''I realized it myself. You see, I've been carrying passengers to this island for days - this is my fourth round, in fact. And each time I made the voyage, I noticed that the island ended up being several dozen feet southerner than where it should be.''

''That sounds hardly believable. Maybe your devices are broken or something.''

''Ha ha, no. No way. My devices work perfectly. But I shouldn't be surprised that the island is moving. After all, it's probably not an island. No, I am sure that it is not an island.''

Clark broke out in a cold sweat. If this island was really gonna turn out to be a gigantic creature, he'd better jump overboard, swim back to Frieden-und Freudenland, and resign from his stupid job that never failed to jeopardize his life.

''It's Ecosphere 2 or else I am not the greatest sailor in Southern Forest!'' yelled the captain and chuckled.

''Ecosph- Ecosphere 2? What is that?'' asked Clark, both relieved and confused at the same time.

''Oh, you wouldn't know, of course. You are too young for that.'' The captain gave him a huge grin that exposed his golden back teeth. ''Have you ever heard of The Great Space Migration Paranoia?'' he asked.

Clark shook his head.

''This was a crazy mass paranoia that took over the entire Mount Seymour when I was a young lad. It started in 1967, to be precise. That year was a crazy, crazy year; boy. The climate seemed to go crazy, as well as the people. Mount Seymour was first struck by the worst drought of its history in the first half of the year, and in the second half, there were typhoons and floods coming upon us one after another. As if the whole craze was not enough, we had had to deal with a Purple-Spotted Newt Flu epidemic. All people believed that the end of the world was near.'' The captain briefly paused. ''Ever heard of Vanessa Williams?''

Clark shook his head again. His ignorance seemed to amuse and please the captain.

''She was a nutty lady who made her fortune writing cheesy vampire romances for teenage girls. But the dreadful events of 1967 inspired her to change her career a bit. So she started writing her famous ''Exodus Trilogy'' where she told the story of a group of 'chosen people' who would have to leave Earth to start a colony in space and to carry the legacy of the human race to another planet, so we would perish on this planet, but at least our legacy would live on. Stuff like that. And people took it seriously, boy. So seriously, that they thought they'd better equip some individuals with the skills that would help them survive on another planet. That's how Ecosphere 2 has started. Ecosphere 2... It had to be the perfect training ground for people who would explore the scape and find our future home. Those pioneers... They had a tragic end, people say. If it was really so, may God bless their souls.’’

‘’Did they die on mission?’’ asked Clark. He was confused. He hadn’t heard of Mount Seymour sending pioneers to space. At least not as early as 1967.

‘’No,’’ the captain said. ‘’They died during training. Within Ecosphere 2.’’

‘’What was Ecosphere 2?’’

‘’Haven’t I told you yet?’’

‘’No. I’m sorry, you keep talking about it, but you haven’t told me what it was, except that it was a training ground for space explo-‘’

‘’Oh, please don’t mind my forgetfulness!’’ interrupted the captain apologetically. ‘’You see, this old wolf is a bit too old to remember to give details. Well, Ecosphere 2 was a government-funded, top-secret project. Caught up in a fierce paranoia about the future of our ecosystem, and firmly believing that we would have to leave our planet; the Seymourian government has launched the project. Their first task was to investigate whether our race would survive outside the Earth at all. It had to be tested first on Earth. So the government ordered the construction of a secret completely enclosed complex of steel-and-glass bubbles in which an artificial ecosystem would be created. It would have its own soil, trees, even its own weather. The water that evaporated inside the bubbles was filtered out from the air with de-humidifiers and poured back down on the area. Artificial rain. Only the sunlight came from outside. Everything else was constructed to be completely self-sufficient. Crazy, right?’’

Clark nodded in disbelief.

‘’Then the government started looking for enthusiastic young people from all over Mount Seymour who would be the pioneers who would first live in Ecosphere 2 and prove their capability of surviving in an artificial ecosystem and who would then proceed to conquer the universe to find a new ecosystem for earthlings to live in. Eventually they found 8 individuals, all of whom were students enrolled in University of Fort-Frédéric-sur-le-Montagne. I don’t know whether they were eager to accept the offer. On the one hand, who would say no to the opportunity of making history? On the other hand the mission could clearly cost them their lives. But it would have killed them even if they didn’t accept it. I don’t think the secret intelligence agency of the government would have let them live in case they refused to join the effort after they became privy to the details of a topsecret project.’’ He sighed. ‘’When the construction of this otherworldly bubble-bunch was completed, it was put to sea.’’

The captain realized that Clark’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

‘’It’s true,’’ the captain said. ‘’The government thought it would be too dangerous to keep such a gigantic structure on land. It could be discovered and soon people would start questioning what it was. And if they found out about its purpose, chaos would reign all over Mount Seymour. So they built a floating structure that could be steered in ocean. Mobility was better in every way, for example if anyone detected this gargantuan structure on the ocean and wanted to investigate it, the pioneers could easily relocate somewhere else and avoid detection. To cut the long story short, Ecosphere 2 has been built and put on sea, with 8 pioneers on board. The first outcomes of the experiment were elating. The artificial ecosystem worked perfectly well, and promised to give humans a chance to live outside Earth. But what we didn’t know was that the climate-related anomalies that Mount Seymour experienced hadn’t ended yet. A few months after the project had officially started, a giant cyclone approached Mount Seymour. But on its way, it first destroyed Ecosphere 2. We woke up one morning, and it was gone.’’ A tear trickled down the captain’s cheek. ‘’The only thing that the government inspectors could say was that Ecosphere 2 had probably been struck by a lightning which shattered the glass structure protecting it. Then the strong winds must have blown away everything on it. Houses, trees, humans... Then most probably the damage also caused a leakage somewhere in the structure, and Ecosphere 2 sank into the sea bottom. People started searching for it on the sea bottom with a radar. Nothing ever appeared. Again, the inspectors estimated that the structure – or whatever was left from it – had most likely been carried away by the strong currents engendered by the cyclone. The remnants of Ecosphere 2 could be anywhere in Kolaxa Sea or the Sea of Basking Turtles. The search efforts would probably produce no results. Just a waste of money. And the government stopped the search. Nobody ever knew about the project, or about those 8 brave people who sacrificed their lives for the future of humanity...’’

‘’If nobody ever knew anything about it, then how can you know so much about it?’’ asked Clark sceptically.

The captain smiled contemptuously. ‘’I had a job with Ecosphere 2,’’ he said. ‘’When I first started working as a sailor – and that was only a few years before this project started – I worked on cargo ships. Our freight mostly consisted of construction materials. And when the construction of Ecosphere 2 started, guess who was working on the ship that supplied materials to the construction site?’’

The pause surprised Clark. Did he really expect an answer?

‘’I assume it was you,’’ Clark said.

‘’Yes! Of course it was me. Even after Ecosphere 2 was put on sea, we kept supplying additional materials for them. But when the experiment officially started, the crazy glass jar was supposed be self-sufficient, so we never went there again. You know the rest.’’

‘’But you said the government wouldn’t like anyone else to know about the project. Again, how can you know all this?’’

‘’You are curious, young man; aren’t you?’’ The captain was more pleased than he was willing to admit. He loved to build suspense. ‘’Well, the other sailors on the ship didn’t know anything about the purpose of this whole glass-bubble-thing. Only I did. Thanks to Carol.’’

‘’Who was Carol?’’
‘’One of the pioneers. While the construction continued, she was working as a supplies manager. Whenever we delivered the construction materials, we would see her. She was very kind. Eventually we became friends, you know. And then we kinda became more than friends. She told me about the secret project, though she wasn’t supposed to do that. I promised her I would keep her secret. And to this day, I kept her secret locked in my heart.’’

‘’And why would you tell it to me just today?’’

‘’Because I feel the secret decided to reveal itself anyway. I believe Ecosphere 2 was never actually damaged. I believe the pioneers sensed a danger and relocated it somewhere else, and for some reason they considered it wise to never re-appear again, until today. My son, I believe your mysterious island is Ecosphere 2.’’

Clark had stopped believing the captain long time ago. ‘’I think you’re just spinning a yarn to entertain me,’’ he said.

The captain was offended.

‘’How about if I showed you some photos?’’

‘’What? Photos of Ecosphere 2?’’

‘’Yes.’’

Clark did not believe a word that the old man said, but he was curious about the photos he said he would show. ‘’Sure. Photos could convince me,’’ he remarked.

The captain slowly got up and walked toward his bookcase. Then he crouched and lifted up a dust-covered old album from the lowest shelf and beckoned to Clark to come and sit by the coffee table next to the bookcase. He complied with the captain’s request. When they were both seated, the captain opened the album. The album was full of black-and-white photos. He had had to blow the dust off the surface to make the photos visible again, and thousands of dust particles started dancing in the sunlight coming through the windows.


The pioneers of Ecosphere 2, 1967

‘’Look,’’ the captain said. ‘’These are the 8 pioneers. See the girl on the bottom right? That was Carol.’’ He sighed and continued to lay the photos before Clark.


Ecosphere 2 first stage completed, 1968

‘’And look at this,’’ the captain said. ‘’This photo was taken when the construction of the first big bubble had been completed on land. I was there on that day. There was a big celebration. The champagne was delicious. You don’t think I am making this all up, do you?’’

Clark shook his head.

‘’And these are the photos that Carol took inside one of the bubbles and kindly shared with me. You see, this one was the artificial ‘ocean’ of Ecosphere 2. And this was the artificial rainforest.’’


The Ocean in Ecosphere 2


The Rainforest in Ecosphere 2

Clark was listening eagerly. He couldn’t decide whether he should believe the old guy or not.

‘’And finally this,’’ said the captain, ‘’this is the finished Ecosphere 2. The last picture I ever took of it. Our job was done, and we never went back. Do you still think I’m lying?’’


Ecosphere 2 finished, 1969

‘’No, I believe you,’’ Clark said. Clark was really inclined to believe the story about Ecosphere 2, but he didn’t think it could be the island their vessel was heading to. The old captain had probably made up this story not to entertain him, but to find solace in the thought that his girlfriend could still be alive, spinning the steering wheel of Ecosphere 2, which supposedly lost its steel-and-glass cover and looked like an island.

Clark thanked the old captain for the tea and the story and went out on the deck. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining. A young sailor boy was moping the deck.

‘’I see you’re lost in thought, Sir,’’ he remarked sassily. ‘’I bet Old Jack told you an unbelievable story, didn’t he?’’

‘’Well, we had a nice little conversation,’’ Clark said. ‘’He has some pretty bewildering stories. Like most captains, I suppose.’’

‘’Oh, don’t believe a word he says, Sir,’’ said the boy. ‘’He has a screw loose somewhere.’’ He giggled. ‘’Yesterday he was telling me that he spotted some mermaids here. Crazy, huh? I told him he might have seen just some dolphins jumping out of the sea and diving in. You know there are many dolphins in Kolaxa Sea. But he wouldn’t believe me. Look, I know he is fun listening to, but don’t take him too seriously.’’

‘’I don’t,’’ replied Clark and walked to his cabin.

[Caracasus]

Jassir communications center

"Hold on... we're picking up some signals here."

The frigate's S.C.O.P.E had picked up a vessel. A blurry indistinct outline appeared on the holoscreen in front of the crew. Faint blue lines appeared across it as the S.C.O.P.E operator picked out key features, bow and stern. A tracery of lines appeared across the outline, pinning it to the holoscreen like a butterfly to a board. The computer whirred, threw up six possible ships. S.C.O.P.E ran another scan, narrowing it down to three. Eventually one remained.

"It's from Mount Seymour. A Meline class research vessel. I'm getting a transponder signal but... there's a great deal of interference."

The commander elect grunted. "I guess it was only so long before someone else came to have a look... distance?"

"Sixteen nautical miles."

The Commander frowned. "Why didn't we pick it up sooner?"

"Ah, it was on the other side of the island. Still... we're getting slower than usual responses from SCOPE... Commander, I think there's some interference here..."

"Hmm. You think we should invite the scientists in for this? It's their ride..."

The expedition's heavy lift Kavverit^* soon arrived, Dr Yakob on board as commander elect of the research expedition. The Jassir was an older generation ship - though it was still preferable to the Orpheus. It rode smoother on the waves, for one thing. Half the scientists were on anti nausea drugs, much to the amusement of The Orpheus's crew. Yakob leaned on the console table and opened a channel.

He had been a little disappointed. He'd been expecting the crew of the Jassir to be a lot more authoritarian and... military. He'd almost been looking forward to a blazing row with the Commander elect over some detail of the expedition or another. Instead the crew just... acted as if they were doing their jobs. Competent, slightly bored but essentially the mission was just another day for them. The Commander elect hadn't even ironed her uniform! He brushed a few crumbs from the console as the operator opened a frequency.

"This is the Caracasusian Scientific Commune Blades of Grass in Sunlight on board the USSC frigate Jassir to the unknown Mount Seymour ship. We are currently inbound for the island. May I ask your purpose and name? We are having trouble with our identification systems at present."

Silence and static.



*Kavverit - a type of aircraft that has all but replaced helicopters in Caracasus. It's a VTOL craft but for the purposes of the RP, read helicopter.