Chapter 23

There wasn't a reasonable house for sale in Konstanz. The military base was on the other side of the lake and 16 kilometers inland, although there was Bodensee access and a dock? Some would call it a dock. Vee didn't. She needed a place to lay her head on this side of the lake ... but not in Switzerland.

Switzerland wasn't too far south but it had border crossings. In the past year, the border had been closed seven times for as long as three days. The University students who were taking the cheap way by living across the Rhein in Kreuzlingen, Tägerwilen or Gottlieben and biking or boating to Konstanz missed too many classes and had to repeat the year. The Swiss were generally cooperative but, alerts happen, and the borders closed. The Swiss were neutral and determined to stay that way.

After her Sukhoi was delivered to England by Princessapality C-130 airfreight she had the nightmare of recertification in England, again in France, once more in Belgium and then in Germany. It wasn't that any one nation was what one could call picky; they were careful.

A fourteen year old redheaded princess with an unlimited pilots license was just a trifle unusual. That she was accompanied by an aircraft that no one alive had ever seen and piloted by the princesses physical twin ... who wasn't a princess ... and one hundred and twenty-two years old to boot ... both aircraft and pilot caused no end of physicals and tests for both ladies.

The first time she flew from the Flugplatz in Konstanz and headed across the lake she was surprised to find she had an escort of Swiss, German and Austrian military interceptors. The Swiss, because they didn't know; the German, because all was not in order, and the Austrian because they had a shared border with the other two ... and they were nosy.

Someone ... none of the trio would accept responsibility ... got into Vee's comfort zone and she pulled a couple of 12g maneuvers and left the pilots of all three aircraft looking at an empty spot in the sky.

She returned to Konstanz, landed at Flugplatz Konstanz EDTZ (the airfield) and fumed. The police were more or less right behind her ... they were fuming too. The Sicherheitswacht (civilian patrol) was first on the scene. Before they could do anything they had to summon a Landespolize (State Police) Frau, because they were dealing with a female.

"Pilotenlizenz?" was the first and only question the woman asked ... twice.

Vee smiled.

The Princessapality Princess Pilot License (PPPL) is one of the wonders of the world; a goatskin document the size of a reasonable contract bridge card-table, it is a calligraphic masterpiece in living color and four part harmony.

Issued by the Island and authenticated by the signatures of the Ambassadors to The United Nations, except the FED A, each one is consecutively numbered. Every country affixed stamps, seals, ribbons and goat poop to the license with great ceremony but in no discernible order. It was fun.

Wendy Too had had license Number One, Junior possessed Number Two, Wendolyn IV had Number Three and Vee had Number Four. Wendy Wanzor had a regular license ... she wasn't a princess.

The Princesses also carried the standard drivers license size but this was the first time anyone had asked Vee for the document. She carried it in the inside pocket of her coyote fur lined leather flying jacket fashioned after the ubiquitous pre WWII fighter pilots jacket.

"License," she said as she unzipped and unsnapped the jacket lapel and delved into the mysteries of the inside pocket. She removed the leather pouch that housed the document and proceeded to unfold it.

The princesses competed with each other to see who could come up with the most diabolical way to fold the license ... Vee had patterned her folds after a Texas Road Map that she bought at an auction. Flips, shakes, flaps and tucks later, the multicolored document was displayed for the Landespolize Frau's perusal. That was the second time she said "Pilotenlizenz?" Her expression was more, "What the fuck is this shit?"