Chapter 56

The shock wasn't so bad ... well ... hell ... it was too. It was awful.

Instinct put up her shield.

Instinct made her roaring mind search for any faint feeling a daughter has for her mother.

There--was--nothing.

Mother was gone.

Daddy was gone.

The twins were gone.

It took just a second of joyous rejoicing to realize the pests of her life ... were gone, and their wives and four small babies.

Gone ... not even a wisp to bury.

Nothing she could recover ... no relic ... G-O-N-E!

The hole was still filling ... there wasn't even any floating debris...

Still in shock, she realized that the hole was MUCH bigger than the Princessapality.

There were other islands missing ... other people gone.

This was the biggest most destructive device she had ever heard of.

There were ships down there ... melted, twisted, burning, swept towards the hole in the earth ... her compassion for her fellow innocents ... they needed her!

She spent days in rescue mode. It wasn't what she wanted to do but she had to. The legacy of a loving mother and dad. She was in the process of delivering another batch of wounded and maimed to a hospital in Canada when the Powers that Be showed up.

"We know who. We know why. We even know the delivery aircraft and crew. It's not our place to offer compassion or grace to you, but you need to let us finish this work; you need to go to New York. We have converted the past to the mode present. Take this cube and place it on the desk of the Secretary of the United Nations and ask to show the world what has happened. The United States Ambassador will object and then leave. What happens after that is up to you."

Wendolyn Elizabeth Wanzor Austin, Princess of the Princessapality of Island Home appeared in her seat at the United Nations. There was nothing and she was. The was that was she was dirty, bloody, bedraggled and dripping.

"Mr. Secretary!" she spoke into her microphone.

"I object," shouted the Ambassador from the United States. He was a sterling example of American Statesmanship, silver haired and graceful, dressed impeccably and enraged.

"Mr. Ambassador? To what do you object?" said the Chair.

"I object."

"To what do you object?"

"To the Presence in the Seat of that Perfidious Nation. That Stain on Humanity, that THING from the Princessapality." It was all so dramatic except that the finger on the hand at the end of the extended arm pointed not at the object of his intention but, rather, was crooked, and pointed to the floor.

The Ambassador was quivering in supposed rage, but, in actuality, he was enraged because he had lost control of his arm. His--finger--would--NOT-- Point!

His personal assistant was rapidly shoving parers and property into the attaché case marked The United States of America. The PA, the actual brains of the delegation to the United Nations, touched the retired Shakespearian actor on the arm.

The touch, so personal and unwelcome, came at a very bad and inconvenient time. The Ambassador actually swung and attempted to strike the PA at the same time he lost control of his bowels. The report and resultant smell caused the surrounding members to giggle uncontrollably while searching for something ... anything ... to stop the smell. The French delegation began spraying cologne. The Americans left with the Ambassador crying, "I object, I object, I object, until the door closed on their heels.