NationStates Jolt Archive

Worlds will collide.

Sinking, just ever sinking... That's all it ever is when I dive. Just sinking. Such are the thoughts of the God Emperor Phoren Narqu as he relaxes in one of his frequent dives to the very abyss that is the ocean of Albia. But then, he sees something. A hazy outline of a wrecked yacht, resting upon a jagged rock spire.

And something snaps.

I can no longer serve my people. I have to find the Ark... Every moment of my life has been but preparation. I must find the Ark, find the history of my people...

-21:36, Earth time.
--The Imperial Retreat
---Planet Albion
It is a pity I shan't see my son grow... But my duty is more important than any other. The Empire must know its history, lest it finally be torn asunder...

At his warmstone desk, specially crafted from volcanic rock and lined with heat-prouding elements, sat the God Emperor. One hand stroked through his long blonde hair as he wrote a letter with his free hand, dressed in surprisingly simple, practical gear...

"To whom it may concern...
I, God Emperor Phoren Narqu, abdicate my throne. Until my son is capable of taking my place, Sharr Farathin is to take the throne. I enclose proof that I did not write this under anything but my own will." That was the main letter, in any case. A simple formality... Then came the ones that truly mattered.

"Jack,
I bid you farewell, my friend. I will never forget your friendship. I have arranged for a crate of River and Peca to be delivered to you. Inside there is a special gift. Don't be concerned by the appearance, it's only a copy of my cyberbrain. When you acquire the suitable device, you will be able to see all that I have seen.

I have gone to seek the Ark, the lost City Ship, the vessel that took the Elven race to the stars. The grail of long forgotten history. I do not intend to return.

Goodbye."

He sealed that one up and wrote out the instructions for who it was to be delivered to, and then three more- One for the Regent who would take the throne, one for the concubine carrying his child, and finally, one for the Chairwoman of the Northrop Grumman Corporation...

But that one he did not finish, nor send, and instead he tucked it into his pocket and stood, pulling a bag from his cupboard and leaving the room, heading towards one of the hangar bays...

And then, he was gone into space in an archaic fighter, breaking the speed of light in his quest for the lost repository of Elven history...

I shall find the Ark. And then my Empire will be saved.

I can only pray it is worth the loss of all I hold dear.

The night air rolling westward off of the ocean brought a pleasant cool breeze across the old desolate boardwalk. There the Chairman of the Corporation sat peacefully, under an iron streetlamp whose light only barely pierced the darkness of the sky. Often, he would find himself sitting on that same wooden bench daily, gazing up into the stars, thinking about his life, his nation, and the problems therein. He loved the boardwalk and the tranquility that it was able to provide, away from the hustle of paperwork and the ongoing reconstruction of the capital city. It provided a calming effect upon him after the daily stress and the ever constant reminders of what happened those few months ago. No one ever bothered him when he was out here and he rather enjoyed that, no orders to give, no problems to hear.

Tonight though, he heard soft footsteps steadily approaching from behind him, but for once, he had no fear or concern about who or what it could be. His wife’s “special forces”, if one really wanted to call it that, provided an exceptional amount of protection and always lurked around him, cloaked and ready to sacrifice themselves for the Chairman.

“Jack?” a low voice broke the silence.

The Chairman turned his head slightly to see Shiran Naelthasser, the elven Vice Chairman, standing beside him, clutching an ornate envelope. “What is it, Shiran?” Jack replied with a hint of aggravation in his voice.

“Approximately fifteen minutes ago, we received this letter…” Shiran handed the envelope over as he continued on. “…and a package, which is sitting upon your desk, addressed to you. It is from Underwater Asylum, specifically Emperor Narqu.”

Hmmm…I haven’t seen Phoren in a while. I wonder how he’s doing, Jack thought to himself as he gently opened the envelope and began reading the handwritten text. But before long, his face saddened when he reached the end, and he released a heavy sigh.

“What is wrong?” Shiran asked.

“Phoren has ran off to find this…errr…Ark, some ship that took the elves to space. He writes that he ‘does not intend to return’.” Jack sighed once more. “I seem to be losing everyone lately. And what makes it worse, I never have a chance to say goodbye.”

The elf nodded. “You must think of this, the Emperor said that he ‘did not intend to return’. He may very well come back in the future not fully intending to, but neither one of us knows when or if that will happen. He is not dead, Jack, so you have not lost another friend. Just remember that.” He smiled and added one last thing. “I am reminded of the Cherokee people in your former nation. In their language, they have not a word for "goodbye" or ‘farewell’ because it makes parting seem so final. But instead they use the phrase ‘do-na-da-go-hv-i’ which means in English ‘until we meet again’.”

Folding the letter up and shoving it into his jacket’s pocket, Jack gazed out over the ocean. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” He rose up from the cold bench and stepped to the wooden railing that stood over the sand dunes. Meanwhile, Shiran was already steadily walking back to the remains of the capital building and called out, “It is almost midnight, and Siri will start worrying about you soon. Are you coming, Jack?”

Jack looked back and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” He gazed up into the stars once more and quietly said, “do-na-da-go-hv-I,” before walking away from the streetlamp and into the dark night.