Narobi sat resting her cheek on her open palm, elbow resting on the chair arm next to her. She was really trying to pay attention, she honestly was, but the man's voice had long ago devolved into a serious of noises unrecognizable as anything more than white noise or TV static as she stared through him towards the back of the room and the open door. Sunlight streamed down from above and onto the tiled floor inlayed with delicate patterns and colorful reliefs. Large plants dotted the outside of the room still and drooping in the oppressive summer heat spilling in through the open doors and windows. It would have been nice if the air conditioning was on, but her father was like a desert lizard, and had always proclaimed that he loved the dry heat.
While she didn't hate the heat and much preferred it over the few times she had experienced cold weather, she would definitely have preferred a heat range in the low seventies.
She rested her hand on her other arm and sighed tracing the dust moats with her eyes, when that was not enough to satisfy her, she sat up straighter and then secretly reached into the folds of her clothing seeking out the hidden pockets she had sewn herself to withdraw a small handful of gears, springs and washers, by which she contended herself for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.
"Thank you, Mr. Diallo I will be sure to take your concerns to the UN the next time I visit."
Narobi lifted her head as the meeting concluded and quickly stowed away her handful of washers back in her pocket, hiding the little bird she had managed to construct from the springs. Her father stayed straight and erect until the man left before slumping down in his seat and sighing. Two armed guards moved to close the door plunging the room into cool shadow though the heat still permeated the room.
King Issa Konate was a tall, well built man in his mid-fifties with hair shaved nearly to his bare scalp. Much of his frame was hidden under a draping of traditionally inspired fabrics dyed in vibrant oranges, yellows and reds. Despite the colors, what he wore could not have been considered ostentatious, as vibrant colors were a common and preferred style of the region. If he was out on the street he could have been mistaken for anyone going about on their business, his open toed sandals exposing dust stained feet, It was that time of year again, and you could never seem to keep the stuff out of anywhere, especially when her father insisted on keeping the door open.
He turned to look at her and she stood straighter smiling at him.
His eyes narrowed.
"You weren't paying any attention were you?"
Her smile fell a bit, "Yes?"
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, while she watched him in concern. Her father had taken the throne at a young age, probably in his mid-twenties sometime near the end of the pan Asian war. While it had been his father that had originally negotiated with the UN, it had been his responsibility to slowly integrate their little slice of the world into the worldwide government body as seamlessly as he could. But of course, this was politics, and nothing was ever really seamless, and the premature greying of his hair was making that pretty evident.
"I wish you would try just a little harder. These are going to be important to you one day when you take my place."
She huffed and leaned back in her seat kicking her feet idly over the tiles. Sunlight shone through her orange dress. Her favorite color was green, but yellow, orange, and red looked best on her. She liked to think they made her look like some sort of sun goddess. It was an idle fantasy she had had since childhood dreamed up while playing in the gardens with her sister and the other local children, "I'm sorry I.... tried."
Had she really though?
When was she finally going to admit to her father that this is not really what she wanted to do with her life? What she was going to do, she wasn't sure, but she certainly couldn't see herself being a politician. In fact the vast majority of their politicians were elected these days. Her father really only held a ceremonial title, though he was popular enough among the NAC, (North African Coalition that he had actually been democratically elected to be their representative to the UN as WELL as their figurehead.
She wasn't expected to run for office, but she was the first in line to take his place when he abdicated.
She glanced over at him, and the look he gave her made it more than clear that he was not fooled by her declaration.
Narobi sighed, "Ok, I wasn't paying attention? What was he asking about?"
Her father turned his eyes to the ceiling and let off a long suffering sigh, "That was a representative of the NAOR. You at least know what that means?'
"North African Oil Reserve." She grumbled, "Yes I remember. I pay attention in class."
"When you aren't taking all your pens apart and turning them into projectile hurling weapons?"
She shrugged and grinned rather sheepishly reaching up to nervously fiddle at the dangling end of the colorful orange scarf she had tied around her head, "Its not that bad."
"not that bad until a stray ink tube hits your teacher in the back of the head."
"That was an accident."
"Sure it was, and I am the queen of Neptune."
She looked him over, "You'd make a very pretty queen of Neptune."
He huffed again, "Narobi.... " He paused and then took a deep breath to calm himself. Her father was never one to cave to his frustration, even when she was being particularly difficult. "Mr. Dallo is trying to seek financial aid for his struggling businesses. The people from NAOR have fallen on hard times, and a part of that is contributing to the rising unemployment in the country."
"Makes sense, no one uses oil anymore."
He threw up his hands, "That's what I have been trying to say to him for years. As a source of power natural gas and oil have been outdated for a period of so many years its almost laughable. It was practically phased out during the Pan Asian war, but they never moved their business on to better practices. I told him he should have converted to solar, or any other kind of energy production to sell, but no, he didn't listen to me."
She waited for her father to finish. He had been fighting with the oil men for as long as she could remember. Everyone knew the market was trending down, but there was some measure of pride for the business men and the local people having to do with oil and natural gas. It was hard for her to remember, as she had never really liked history, but sometime after the third world war, during the great "fracture" when multiple countries and their economies completely collapsed under the pressure of severe climate change followed by nuclear fallout, the northern African states had been pulled together by one of her great grandfathers under the North African coalition. The fracturing of other countries and their economies had allowed them to push foreign powers out of their borders, and the chilled climate caused by Nuclear winter and a second mini ice age, had reduced the heat of their climate and allowed for greater fertility in plots of land that had been completely useless before hand. They had taken over the production of Oil and natural gas so plentiful in their region, and had taken the opportunity to secure all the natural resources which had been, but were becoming even more plentiful over a wider area.
This threw the NAC onto a global stage that had not seen before giving her grandfather a great amount of sway in the global community. He had made quite the profit off the fourth world war, (one of the longest wars in recorded history) though towards the latter end they had experienced another heavy climate swing that sent the entire earth into a sort of dust bowl like state and caused a water shortage so bad that the human population had taken a nose dive towards endangered.
The NAC had held on by a thread during the dust surge, mostly living off the fact that oil and gas had become prominent once again, and their ability to sell gave them access to the ability to survive which many other people didn't have.
It was all very boring and very history related, and she wasn't even sure she was remembering right. But long story short is that certain factions of the populace considered the production of natural gasses to be a part of their history, and when the oil started drying up and everyone else moved onto to fusion and nuclear power, they were being left behind.
Now they were left with soaring unemployment her father was desperately trying to combat.
Not soemthing she wanted to do.
He stood from his chair and she followed suit, walking over the decorative tiles and behind their chairs to the small door recessed into the wall. It wasn't really a throne room per say, but it kind of was. Entering into the rest of the building, Narobi shivered as the air conditioning washed over her. Her father looked a bit put out, but she was happy enough.
He rested a hand on her arm, "I can see that I'm probably not going to get you to focus any more for today, why don't you go on."
She beamed and hugged him before running off thinking only of her mass collection of legos and magnets.
You were never to old for Legos, and that was a hill she was willing to die on.
She passed through the inner courtyard with its fountains and trees to see her mother sitting on one of the benches. She too was a tall woman, with a large bun sticking out from her red headscarf. She had many colorful beaded necklaces hanging around her shoulders as she took a break from her dancing. Her mother loved to dance and bead as pastimes when she wasn't too busy advocating for a good cause.
She greeted her mother and headed towards the far side of the palace complex sandy orange on the outside and reflecting the light of the sun. She was crossing just under the fence when she paused hearing some cursing on the other side. It wasn't Bantuese (the most common language spoken in Africa, resulting from a conglomerate mix of many languages that had fused together over the centuries.) another history fact she only half paid attention to.
"Mother Fucker."
That on the other hand was definitely English.
Narobi was fluent in English, Bantuese and Arabic. She also spoke a little Spanish though it wasn't her best. Out of curiosity she peered up over the side of the wall stepping up onto a low railing to peer over, and found herself looking down on a caravan of vehicles with the blue and white UN crest on the side. Most of the vehicles were parked, but one of them appeared to be stranded under the heat. The vehicle would rev for a moment hum to life and then cut out again.
There was a woman sticking her head under the hood while a man in the driver's seat tried the key.
Neither of them were from around here. The man was short and pudgy with pale skin and watery grey eyes, while the woman was also short with tan olive skin and flowing black hair tied up in a tight bun. Both of them were wearing sharp grey uniforms which she recognized from the UNSC.
They tried the vehicle one more time.
The woman still cursing.
In half amusement half curiosity, Narovi pulled herself over the wall and hopped down on the other side, landing with a puff of dust as she walked over hands behind her back peering over the woman's shoulder as she stuck her head inside the machine. Narobi loved vehicles, and machines of almost any kind, cars, Tvs, Refrigerators, airplanes. She had pulled almost everything her father owned, apart and put it back together again in one way or another. Her free time was pent watching thousands of vidos and tinkering with as may objects as she could get her hands on.
This was a classic military hover vehicle.
She saw the problem almost immediately honing in on the source of the issue. Her shadow fell over the woman's work.
"May I."
The woman jerked back nearly slamming her head against the hood of the vehicle staggering back and rubbing her head swivling to look at Narobi.
She had dark brown eyes with the sort of shrewd and calculating nature you might expect from a soldier.
"Where did you come from?" The womn asked looking around in bewilderment.
She pointed towards the wall, and used the opportunity to slide into the woman's place leaning in over the hood to begin tinkering with the inside of the machine. The woman stared at her almost not sure what to do, but stood back. Narobi pulled back and turned her head to look at the man who was sticking his head out of the open window, "Try it now."
This time the vehicle roared to life without so much as a hitch.
The woman rested her hands on her hips with a raised eyebrow and turned to look at Narovi, whose dress and hands were now stained with grease.
"Well you made that look easy."
"Because it was."
The woman smiled, "I like that confidence, what's your name."
"Narobi." She watched the woman looking her in the eyes to see if her name meant anything to her, but weather it did or not was hard to tel. The woman had a face like stone.
"Are you as good with all machines as that or just hover vehicles."
"Why do you ask?" She wondered crossing her arms over her chest.
"not everyday you see someone your age with that kind of talent."
Narovi shrugged, "I like machines, and they like me."
"I don't doubt it."
It was almost at that moment she heard running footsteps and watched as two of the house guards came charging around the side of the building along with her father. He made his two guards look like charging rhinos compared to a gazelle, his steps quick and lithe as he ran over, "Narovi, what are you doing!"
She shrugged, "helping them with their car."
Her father skidded to a halt just before the two UNSC officers who were now standing side by side. The man saw her father and his eyes widened, hurriedly saluting. The woman, not so flustered, bowed to him once, "King Konate."
He turned to look at her his panic draining and a warm smile breaking out over his face, "Captain Kelly." The two grinned and embraced each other Narobi standing off to the side in confusion as she looked between them.
"You look well." Her father said
"As do you.'
She turned to look at Narobi, "This is your daughter."
"Yes, my oldest. She's a bit impulsive sometimes." He gave her a look and she frowned.
"Impulsive?" Captain Kelly locked eyes with her, "She seems to know exactly what she wants. Tell me your majesty, has your daughter always been so good with mechanics.'
He paused opened his mouth and then closed it as he looked over at her, "Well, yes I, do suppose she has. She's always loved building things, why?"
"Well she just fixed the car I have been trying to get to start for the past hour and a half. In less than five minutes."
Narovi wasn't going to point out that's because it was an easy fix, but she did enjoy the praise. Machines did love her.
Captain Kelly looked at her, "Have you considered becoming an engineer/"
Narovi paused as her father looked at her. She saw surprise in his eyes, and curiosity maybe but nothing like anger. He simply wanted to know what she would say.
"I.... have thought about it."
"Well I might as well pitch you the offer. The UNSC is preparing for the first Interstellar space ship launch within the next few years and between the two of us." She leaned in towards Narobi's father, "They have picked me as it's captain."
Her father beamed and clapped her heartily on the shoulder in congratulations.
She waved him off modestly, "Point being, they are looking for a lot of people to come on these missions, setting up special schools for pilots, and marines and scientists." She glanced over at Nairobi, "And engineers."
Narovi felt her insides thrill just a little peering at her father's face from the corner of her eye.
He looked thoughtful and maybe a bit confused though she wasn't sure what that meant.
Either way she had no time to think about that as her father was pulled away into meeting with the UNSC people and she was left to her own devices, sitting in her room and constructing oddities though her mind was somewhere else. Being an engineer on a spaceship, now wouldn't that be interesting, ships were huge, and complicated, and involved new technology. The thought almost made her hungry as she thought of all the new things she could get herself involved in. The more she thought about it the more and more the idea seemed appealing to her, but of course there was always her family to consider.
What would her mother and father think?
What would her siblings think?
It was only later that night when she met her father for dinner that anything was said at all. The whole family, her parents her sister and her brother were sitting and eating in contented silence when her father looked up at her from across the table, "You don' want to become queen do you?"
The bluntness of the question took her by surprise. Her father was a politician and not generally known for being blunt, that was her mother's thing.
She opened and closed her mouth for a moment and then, with the entire table's eyes on her, "Well..... it isn't my first choice."
Her siblings looked between each other.
Her mother was not surprised at all, "I thought this was obvious." She looked fondly at her husband who rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry narobi, I guess I just forgot to ask..... that seems like a poor excuse."
Narobi shrugged, "I understand."
"He straightened himself in his seat, Well then, if that is the case, and as your father, and the king, I...."
She grimaced waiting to hear his pronouncement that she was going to have to say here forever despite her wishes.
"I release you from your duties."
Again she was the only one in the room who even seemed surprised, "Really?"
He smiled, "Yes really, of course, I would not force any of my children to do something they hated."
Her sister, sitting on the other end of the table swallowed hard and looked up, "Can I take your spot!"
Narovi looked at her surprised, "You want to?"
"Course I want to." She stood up and danced around the room, "I would get to be queen." Her mother laughed and dragged her sister back down.
"Finish your food."
She beamed.
Her father smiled and nodded turning to look at Narobi taking her hand in his, "Of course you know this means I expect you to be the best engineer in the UNSC you hear?"
She certainly did.
And she certainly was, or at least she thought so. She had gone and attended one of the schools with the endorsement of Captain Kelly, she had excelled there, had some time on her hands and modeled for a while, though she didn't like that much. She shipped out on the Enterprise under captain Kelly as part of one of the detailing teams for the shuttles and had meticulously prepared the craft before their first landing on Proxima B. She had been forced to hand her craft over to a young pilot in a blue space suit who had practically skipped into the room like a giddy school child sure that he was going to crash it into the planet like a speeding torpedo in which case she was going to have to kill him.
As Captain Kelly walked past she had leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, he's a bit of a spaz but he flies as well as you take care of machines."
That had calmed her down a little bit. If that was the case, and if Captain Kelly endorsed him that meant he had to be good. At least she hoped he was, as she watched him forget to duck and smashed his head into the frame as he tried to enter the hatch.
She shook her head once.
Hopefully that man would never be given command of anything bigger than a shuttle.