NationStates Jolt Archive

"Back in the day yo as we learned
A man was not considered to be
Considered to be fully grown
Has he not gona beyond the hills
Has he not crossed the 7 seas
Yeah, 7 seas at least!"

[Eloi International Airport, Terminal B, Nexus City, Nexian Administration Zone, The Silver Sky]

The noise level inside Eloi International Airport was deafening, babies crying, children arguing and businessmen attempting to speak loud enough into their Bluetooth headsets so that their clients could hear them, permeated the air inside the seemingly cramped terminal.

Various college graduate age students from the local university chatting away on cellphones and listening to music loud enough that they really shouldn't wear headphones didn't help the cause of quietness any around Gate 32-B. The flight had appeared on the tarmac a few minutes ago and was simply waiting to unload its passengers into the already cramped area.

Zoey Larson was one of the few students who had their headphones at a reasonable volume. She listened to various songs as she played a game on her touchscreen phone, rhythmically bobbing her head side to side, causing her brunette ponytail to sway a bit back and forth. In a few moments she would be boarding the waiting plane. Her intended destination was Carranda, No Endorse; to be specific, her destination was a public university in Carranda. Said university and her own were operating an exchange program between their respective Aerospace Engineering departments. The exchanged involved a summers stay in the graduate co-ed dorms. It was an opportunity solely available to graduate students. It would provide a unique look at a foreign nation, and not just any foreign nation, but the nation most allied to The Silver Sky, one could say the two nations were married and no one would bat an eyelid.

The catch was that the students were to fund the trip and costs themselves. This might pose a problem for the average ten-thousand Pandora Gems in debt graduate student. But Zoey was a 'trust-fund baby', upon receiving her bachelor's degree from the university she had received access to a trust fund worth several million Pandora Gems from her deceased wealthy grandparents. Also stipulated in the will of her grandparents was that she was to use some of the money to travel to another nation to learn about their culture. No Endorse had been the cheapest to visit while still technically fulfilling the criteria, so the trip was a no-brainer.

Finally the flight was to be ready to be boarded. Zoey stood up, and streched all 5'4" of herself before leaning down to grab her few belongings, she figured she would buy some clothing during her stay their, probably donating it to charity when she came back home, after all, money wasn't as important anymore.

She quickly navigated to her email inbox on her phone with a simple swipe of the finger. The latest email, besides your usually 'want biggah brest?' or 'add fiv + in to pinis' spam messages, was from her future roommate in No Endorse. It seemed he was a male but the poor guy had failed to leave his name in the obviously hastily written email. Zoey was about email him back when she accidentally deleted the message with a lazy miss targeted swipe of her finger.

'Damn, didn't even save his email address.' She though to herself.

It was no matter, she would simply look for a guy with a "Welcome Zoey Larson" sign as he had said he would be holding in his email. For now she would worry about getting some sleep on the several hour long flight across the ocean.


[OOC: Closed for now]

[Carranda Upon Tyne Central Aerodrome, Domestic/Skian Terminal and Flight Line, Carranda Upon Tyne, No Endorse]

Most airports around the world fell into a few distinct categories. Firstly, you have your first world airports, spotless marvels of engineering kept totally sterile through incredibly advanced security checkpoints. Then there are those second world airports, laid back affairs in tacky seventies style architecture. Finally, there were the third world airports, the squat cinder block buildings with outdoor "gates" sometimes painted on the tarmac/dirt. Those last were the worst, 'steerage' often really meant just that. It was a mark of civilization when livestock was forbidden from a nation's passenger planes.

However, no matter how far Zoey traveled, a No Endorse Aerodrome was still something of a culture shock. Maybe it was the soldiers toting NESR-21s all over. Maybe it was the atomic bomb proof buildings, somehow light and airy inside. Or maybe it was the fact that planes never touched the terminal buildings; with passengers bussed out to the flight line as a rule. Whatever it was, the whole atmosphere just seemed... different.

Zoey turned her headphones up and strode to the nearest bus, blocking out the crowd. She really didn't even mind the oppressive heat of the bus, whose air conditioning was apparently broken. So long as her headphones blocked out the catcalls from a nearby soldier, life was good. His teeth are funny she thought, pulling out her phone and firing off a few texts. They shouldn't allow soldiers to go without basic dental hygiene here.

After a few moments, the bus sped towards the terminal building, its deltic engine roaring with excess power. Say what you will, Endorsians appreciated building their vehicles well. The bus had probably run the same line, stopped at the same crossing to let a plane pass, and entered the same slot in the terminal for two or three generations of drivers.

With the jet passing, the terminal finally slid into view. A massive, low building with incredibly sloped sides, it was rated to withstand anything but a direct nuclear impact. The long rows of windows had lines of massive shutters, ready to clamp down at a moment's notice. Rumor said that a full scale model of the terminal lay somewhere in the Andorran Plateau, bombed to destruction to verify its design. Any good Goth, however, knew that No Endorse was far too cheap for that. At most, they'd built a two foot steel and concrete model and spent an afternoon bouncing RPGs off it. Then they'd probably gotten drunk, knowing engineers in general.

Zoey looked about as the bus entered the terminal, passing through several meters of steel reinforced concrete. It was truly remarkable that such a solid building didn't collapse under its own weight. The bus creaked to a halt in its slot just as her song ended, perfect timing. Doors opened, and before she knew it, she was standing next to a huge map, pondering how to best navigate the terminal's central hall to reach baggage claim.

She didn't know if it was luck or what, but she just happened to glance down at the bench beside the map. A man about her age lay draped over the bench sound asleep, caredboard sign held loosely in a limp hand. Though upside down, she could make out "Welcome Zoey Larson" plain as day, just like he'd said. He didn't look like much, from faded Treadway sneakers to a ratty "CUHAA," Carranda University of Hydronautics, Aeronautics, and Astronautics, hoodie. Oh well, at least he didn't snore. He did mutter though...

"mmf, you sure those are real, Fred?" he muttered, shifting about. "They look fake...."

Zoey grabbed the sign and whacked the sleeping student over the head, receiving a start and a confused "BWAH?!" in response. "What in hell was that for?" Zoey just looked at him, shaking her head and chuckling.

"I'm Zoey Larson, and you're lucky I didn't head for a different map." She tossed him her carry-on and motioned for him to follow. "Thanks a bunch for taking my bag! Who says chivalry is dead? You're forgiven."

The young man shook his head a few times, trying to clear his grogginess. "Uhh, I'm Peter Candu... Candu like the reactor. Welcome to No Endorse?"

"PETER! THAT WAS IT!" Zoey whirled and smiled, extending her hand. "Pleased to meet you." After a few moments of Peter staring at it blankly as he fidgeted with her bag in his arms, she retracted it. "Oh. Right. Let's get my bags..."

[Carranda Upon Tyne Central Aerodrome, Domestic/Skian Terminal and Flight Line, Carranda Upon Tyne, No Endorse]

It didn't take long for the odd pairing to find their path towards the baggage claim, traversing it would be another story. The maze like path through the throngs of people presented one of the smaller hazards.

Cat-calling soldiers were another hazard. Zoey had taken her bag back from poor Peter, and instead clung to his arm. Well, clinging might be overstating it. More like pulling on it... Okay, she was dragging the poor soul. The somewhat couple-like contact had only been initiated to be a deterrent to the cat-calls. Peter was reduced to being dragged across the terminal, he did deserve credit for looking as dignified as possible after stumbling the first few steps.

After several minutes navigating the maze of steel, concrete and humans they reached the security checkpoint. State employees moved the lines of people along at a decent pace while their poorly paid counterparts in the military looked on, joked with one another, and smoked cigarettes. As they neared the checkpoint Zoey peeked over Peter's shoulder and watched a soldier, who she assumed to be in charge, randomly point at people. Looking closer she noticed him saying the age old counting rhyme, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe".

His sighted rested right on Peter, he motioned for another soldier and they began walking towards them. As he approached Zoey quickly turned away. The soldier tapped Peter on shoulder and said with the cheesiest forced smile. "Sir, could you please come with us."

Peter and Zoey began to protest but the glare from the soldier and his group told them to do otherwise. Peter was lead off to a private room while the soldiers whistled at Zoey. She gave them the dirtiest look she could muster before moving through the checkpoint. "Okay, with no guide and no where to go i might was well get my baggage." She thought to herself.

Nearly half an hour and a set of checked baggage later poor Peter emerged from the checkpoint. Zoey noticed he was walking strangely, a little hitch in his giddy-up if you will. "He's walking like he' got something stuck up his bu..." Zoey's train of thought derailed as a blush came to her face. Peter looked down at the sitting Zoey and the two exchanged blushing glances.

Zoey popped up, gave her bags to Peter and started marching off towards the exit. She only made it few feet before turning sharply on her heels and making an embarrassed face. "Where are we supposed to go?"

".... Peter?"

"Hmm?" Peter Candu stood next to a small pushcart, examining a stack of laminated paper cards. Zoey's bags sat in a pile next to him, almost as high as the cart itself. Peter tossed the Cartpusher a coin and turned back to a nonplussed Zoey. "What?"

"Which way?"

"Oh, that way." He handed her the card and picked up her bags, awkwardly handing her the card in the process. "Here, you'll want that card. Now you can tell what division the soldier hitting on you is in. It's got every badge, from Civil Protection to Army."

Zoey glanced over the card, and then back to Peter. ".... Will that make them stop?"

"Not a prayer."

"..."

The two wandered in awkward silence, navigating the thick mass of public transport that powered Carranda upon Tyne. From the coal powered commuter rail to the creaking Deltic-powered double decker that finally stopped in front of Peter's Dorm, Zoey took in the sites of the city. Much had changed in Carranda since the atomic bombing of Lover's Leap. The total mass of displaced people and capital had relocated here under government coercion, turning a bustling port city into a megalopolis.

The crush of the new population had taken its toll on the whole public transit system. Bits of plywood lined the floor of the double decker, hiding the worst of the rusted out floor panels from prying eyes and feet. Trains had been kept in service long past their retirement date just to meet demand. Even so, there were so many passengers during rush hour that Rail Marshals now rode in every train and bus. Rail Marshals that got bored and grinned at pretty girls. Needless to say, Zoey spent the whole ride glued to Peter's arm. Was No Endorse always so barbaric? she thought, glancing to the front of the car, eying the Marshal's rifle. Most likely she concluded, tightening her grip, prompting a confused glance from Peter.

A few minutes later, the bus screeched to a halt. "Here we are!" Peter hopped lightly off the bus, deftly avoiding the stagnant puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. Zoey followed close behind, avoiding the gaze of the grinning Rail Marshal. "Fifteen-Eleven, Fourth-and-a-Half Street. Cheapest dorm in the whole Uni."

He spread his arms wide and gestured at the brick building, towering some ten stories. Zoey looked askance, rubbing some crumbling brick from the near wall. "Peter, does this place meet ANY building code?"

"Meets every one we've got. It's better on the inside, the brick is just a facade added a few decades ago, the cinderbloc walls are fine." He grabbed the bags and swiped in, holding the door for his guest. After a short elevator ride and a shorter walk, they finally reached his double room. Peter tossed Zoey's bags on top of a pile of engineering books, dirty laundry, and what appeared to once have been an office chair, before flopping down on what seemed to be a couch.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"I call top bunk. Now clean your gross laundry off it. I'm going to go powder my nose, please try to tidy up some while I'm gone."

"Typical man, why can't they be clean creatures?" pondered Zoey as she closed the bathroom door.

She was confronted by a sight even more disturbing then Peter's living area. There was soap scum all over the shower stall, soap and toothpaste scum all over the sink and counter, towels piled on the floor instead of hung up neatly and to top it all off, a dirty toilet with the lid up!

Zoey's eyes sparkled as she hoped to $_deity that Peter had some kind of cleaning supplies under the sink. Well, Zoey might of heard angels singing when she opened up the sink cabinet, several kinds of cleaning supplies as well as paper towels and plastic bags were all in supply under the sink, of course they all looked like they had never been touched.

She rolled up her sleeves and moved the pile of towels into a better location only to discover a matching panties and bra set hidden underneath the towels. "Never would of figured Peter to be a stud." She thought for a moment as she reached for a plastic bag to put them into.

Before depositing the bra into the bag she looked as the size and thought, "So much for being a stud."

"Now, the real cleaning can begin!" She said to herself.

Nearly an Hour Later

Zoey emerged from the bathroom with a victorious smile and sparkling bathroom in her wake. She looked around the bedroom before applying her palm to her forehead. Peter hadn't cleaned at all, he simply organized his many small piles of dirty clothes, engineering projects, and detailed/technical drawings into several larger ones.

She set down her towels and bag she had been carrying and looked out into the living room. Peter of course was sitting on the couch watching what she surmised to be "FI-20 ; Daredevil of the Sky", a documentary on the newest Endorsian interceptor.

You see when a tornado is about to hit your area you usually receive some kind of warning, whether it be the sky changing or sirens wailing, but poor Peter here wasn't receiving any warnings as to the impending F-5 tornado that was Zoey on a cleaning warpath.

If Peter was some innocent white trailer trashing being interviewed after a tornado ripped apart his single wide he might of said "I couldn't tell you what happened, it was all too fast, it was on us immediately." That probably would of been an apt description of the next few hours in the dorm, Peter had cleaned and organized his mess as he had never done before (and never would do again if Zoey had any say in it).

The only fine details he remembered was the conversation preceding the tornado.

"Peter, clean up this mess NOW."

"Who are you? My mother?"

"No, I'm Zoey, NOW CLEAN!"

Several Hours Later

Peter lay exhausted on his bed looking at the ceiling while a triumphant Zoey stared at him from the bedroom door. Technical drawings had been placed in a file cabinet previously hidden by dirty clothes and the clothes and towels had gotten a much needed wash and were folded and placed away into drawers, she had even unpacked her own stuff. But Zoey still had one more task for him.

"Peter, I need you to do one more thing for me." Said Zoey as sweetly as possible.

"What might that be your majesty?" He asked in a guarded tone, moving his eyes from the ceiling towards the girl he had determined was trying to be his mother.

"Take down the poster of the girl in the bikini thats across from the bunks. She's not even that pretty."

Peter's glazed eyes widened a bit, "bu...bu...but, she's the Hull Aircraft Spokeswoman!!!!!"

"Take it down NOW." Said Zoey in a tone that conveyed this to Peter. "Take it down or something worse then the last few hours will happen to you." So the poor lad did as told. Zoey replaced the picture with a poster of the new Project 352 Fighter, better known as Nukefighter in aerospace circles. An excellent plane, Peter would admit, if just simply to lessen the sting of taking down the poster of his dream girl.

Poor Peter was not yet done being abused. Zoey grabbed the plastic bag out from the bathroom and removed the bra from it.

"Hey Peter, I'm charmed, but this isn't my size." She said to the man desperately trying to regain his self esteem. Peter turned to look and when he saw he could only belt out a startled. "Bwa?"

"A cup size and plain white panties? You can do better hun." Said Zoey as she re-bagged the bra and threw the bag at the startled Peter who simply belted out another "Bwa?"