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Botha
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“Good lord! You want me to go in that?” exclaimed a surprised Sarah Tintagyl.

The group of Transvaler officers and her had been let off the train, which then steamed off on its way into the silent, cool darkness of the Namibian desert. The six of them stood alone under the moonlit evening sky. One of the soldiers lit a small campfire and made some boiled coffee while they waited until daybreak.

As the sun began to rise over Africa, the sound of a helicopter in the distance could be heard coming closer to them.

The sight of the contraption was not very uplifting – as an antiquated Nordic-built dual-roter helicopter deceneded in front of them. While Sarah seriously weighed the survival odds of lasting out in the blazing desert sun and risking her life in this bucket of bolts, one of the Krygsmagte officers encouraged her, “It’s the only thing we have that can land in the sandy soil, what would you expect? Afrikaanse Lugdiens non-stop to Jo’burg? Besides, the Staatspresident is fond of this bird and uses it often to get around on his private business. It’s perfectly safe – hasn’t crashed yet!”

Sarah cautiously climed on board and strapped herself in as the craft become airborne and turned to the south.

“It’s a five hour flight to George Plass, the Staatspresident’s farm around 600 kilometres away.”

She thought to herself ‘this wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I said I love long nights…”

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"Six-Hundred Kilometers! In this?" Sarah said as she buckled herself to the chair and leaned back against the seat. "Five hours, good lord." The problem was that she hated flying in planes to begin with, she had always hated flying in planes, planes and elevators anything that made her feel enclosed and no amount of training was going to get her out of a crash if this thing went down. Sarah had survived one plane crash already and that adventure, just thinking about it made her get goosebumps. 'Rather nothing think of something from a previous age.' She thought to herself as the blades of the plane began to whirl around, a sickening sound coming out of them. The heavy smell of gas and fumes in the air lit up across the abandoned desert as the craft ascended to the sky, Sarah's fingers gripping her chair tightly, her eyes darting this way and that as they broke off the ground.

"So this thing has never crashed?" She called out to the pilot. It also didn't help that she was alone on the passenger deck, plus Transvaal was at war. What if they were brought down by an RPG? So many things could go wrong right now and she could feel the beads of sweat already forming on her face and traveling down her neck and body. Couldn't they have at least let her change her dress?

"Nope, we've been pretty good so far Ms. Tintagyl." Returned the pilot from the cabin ahead. "You should probably get some sleep, its going to be a long flight." A sudden bump sent the copter shaking through the air for a minute as Sarah's eyes widened.

"You want me to sleep on this thing? You must be out of your mind?" Sarah broke her grip on the old seat and closed her eyes. "Sarah, c'mon, you've been shot at, almost killed a dozen times, its just a plan-" Another bump sent them reeling towards the ground before the pilot was able to bring the copter back up to flying straight. "Christ! Can't you fly this thing right!" She screamed at the cabin, but never got a response. It was going to be a long night indeed.

Five hours later, the copter finally touched down outside of Botha's private residence and instantly after the wheels touched down, if anyone was around, they would see a woman in a black dress fall out of the passenger cabin onto the ground, on all fours as she began to cough violently and finally let loose a stream of vomit onto the sandy ground. "Definitely not what I had in mind for a long night." Sarah said moving her long hair out of the way of her vomit as she looked up into the bright sky, her body still perspiring. But she had arrived and in one piece too, finally being able to see Botha face to face.

Edited by Sarah Tintagyl
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Five hours later, the copter finally touched down outside of Botha's private residence and instantly after the wheels touched down, if anyone was around, they would see a woman in a black dress fall out of the passenger cabin onto the ground, on all fours as she began to cough violently and finally let loose a stream of vomit onto the sandy ground. "Definitely not what I had in mind for a long night." Sarah said moving her long hair out of the way of her vomit as she looked up into the bright sky, her body still perspiring. But she had arrived and in one piece too, finally being able to see Botha face to face.

A few hours later as the helicopter began to head southeast, Sarah looked out and noticed that the desert was giving way to grasslands. Ahead in the distance, was a chain of snow-capped mountains. The terrain was now a combination of flatlands with scrubs amongst scattered hills and small flat-top mountains. But it was the large snow-capped ones far off which drew Sarah’s attention.

“Beyond those is George Plass – the Staatspresidents’s farm” said one of the crewmen when they noticed Sarah appear near the flight cabin.

The helicopter began to climb. It was now getting rather cold, a combination of the altitude as well as Sarah not being dressed for the flight. Someone from the cabin threw a heavy aviator coat towards her. She put it on.

The peak was now directly below them. Sarah reckoned that if the decrepit helicopter went down here, she’d freeze to death in a few minutes. ‘Strange’ she thought, ‘I never figured Africa could actually be cold enough to have snow anywhere.’

Thankfully the helicopter began its decent. The air in the cabin began to warm up somewhat. Down below she could see a picturesque white building sounded by lush greenery.

“George Plass” said the pilot.

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There was some radio chatter in Afrikaans with the ground – although Sarah did hear her name spoken.

Finally the helicopter touched down a few hundred metres from the farm house. There were men in suits at the landing site waiting. After the rotor blades stopped, the crew unbuckled themselves from their seats and extracted themselves from the cramped cabin.

“See? That wasn’t so bad” the pilot said to Sarah.

The main entrance door was now open. Sunlight beckoned them and a gentle warm breeze basked over Sarah as she stepped down on to the ground. ‘I forgot it was now almost summer down here’ she thought.

A large African man, bald and wearing dark sunglasses along with an earpiece walked up to Sarah. He took a look at the woman, and seeing the state of her dress, she said ‘Come with me, you can freshen up and rest before you meet His Excellency. Prime Minister van Matteus said you could borrow some of her clothes that she keeps stored in one of the guest rooms.’

Apart from the ground crew working with the helicopter and birds chirping in the fruit trees, it was otherwise silent. It was obvious that the farm was the scene of a lot of activity, judging from the vehicles parked near what looked like an aerodrome shed (probably for the helicopter) and the scale of the farming, but it was strangely devoid of the human activity one would expect associated with running an operation such of this size.

“Here you go ma’am”, said the man escorting her. “This will be your guest room while you stay with us. I will give you a couple of hours and then call on you to take you to His Excellency.”

The ‘room’ was actually a small cottage, around 500 feet from Botha’s main house which sat alone away from the rest of the complex. There were half a dozen of these cottages –all linked by a narrow paved pathway. Inside the cottage was some clean clothes lain out on the bed and an assorted hamper of snacks and refreshments on the main table. A silver teapot of steaming hot rooibos tea waited to be drunk. Next to the rooibos was a bouquet of flowers, with a note attached in cursive handwriting. “Welkom in Transvaal – Botha”.

Edited by Botha
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“See? That wasn’t so bad”

She turned and glared at the pilot while she wiped her mouth from the spit and vomit still hanging from her lips. "No, that was just exactly what I look forward too every night. Flying through the desert and snow covered mountains in a bucket of bolts." Sarah sighed and pulled the jacket she had been given tight around her and looked back at the pilot who seemed genuinely hurt by her comment. "I'm sorry, its just that I don't like to fly all that much and when I do, that's the last thing I want to be flying in. Trust me, I'm a Colonel in the Imperial Union's Special Forces and when I was Lady Protector I had to fly everywhere, its something that I've never gotten used to."

But as the sun shone over the hills and hit her soft white skin, it warmed her to the touch and she smiled taking off the coat. Though looking down, her evening dress was pretty much ruined. As Sarah sat in the morning light, a large African man walked down the path towards her with a smile on his face. ‘Come with me, you can freshen up and rest before you meet His Excellency. Prime Minister van Matteus said you could borrow some of her clothes that she keeps stored in one of the guest rooms.’

"Thank you very much." Said Sarah as she took his hand and led her across the farmstead.

The Botha plantation in the early morning had the feel of something Sarah had not felt in a long, long time. Her grandparents when she was very young, if she could remember correctly only about five or six years old, had a great plantation in Southern Poland, it was in Nordland at the time, but the Tintagyl family was influential enough to own the land without the state bothering them, even if they were foreigners. The sun always seemed to shine brightly in a clear blue sky, as the morning dew dripped silently off the trees onto the ground below. Birds sung a melody in the distance and the young Sarah Tintagyl with pink ribbons in her hair would smile as she looked over the rolling Polish fields heading off into the Tatra Mountains. It reminded her a lot of the past and she couldn't help but sigh, it was nice to at least see a replica of something she longed for, for so long. It was this kind of setting she wished she could have for the rest of her days.

Finally the man lead her to a small cottage a small distance away from the main residence. He told her he would be back in a few hours, which would give the girl ample time to freshen up, shower, and change into something much more pleasant. Inside the cottage, which was as quaint as it was cozy, with a soft bed and warm decorations around the room. A clean pressed outfit lay across the bed, while a tray of food and tea was sitting waiting to be taken in at the foot of the bed. With the food was a beautiful bouquet of flowers with Botha's note written next to it. Sarah smiled as she smelled the flowers. "A true gentlemen no doubt."

Needing a shower desperately, she undressed herself and walked into the bathroom taking a long shower under steaming hot water that seemed to rid herself of all the grim that had built up since that night in Italy. "God!" She said as she shampooed her hair. "Has it really been that long? God Sarah, no wonder you've been in such a lousy mood lately." Finally after an hour long bathing cycle, the former Lady Protector stepped out and putting on a fluffy cotton robe went back out to the main room of the cottage, poured herself a cup of tea and rested her head against the pillows. It was like sinking into heaven and Sarah was asleep before she knew it.

The girl awoke a couple of hours later before the manservant had arrived to take her to see His Excellency. Quickly, she dressed, and luckily, Annetjie and herself, shared about the same body structure, though Van Matteus was just a bit taller, but Sarah was a bit more muscular, so perhaps they canceled each other out. Finally dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white blouse, she waited for the servant to take her to the audience, with a man who for so long she had admired, a man that so few in the world had seen, and her opportunity was nearing.

Edited by Sarah Tintagyl
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As the two figures walked along the path towards the main farmhouse, the large African security man briefed Sarah Tintagyl over some protocol.

“Afrikaner society is very stratified, so out of deference to him, refer to him as Meneer Staatspresident or Your Excellency. He will probably refer to you as mejuffrou but when he stops using that term – which means ‘miss’ in Afrikaans – then you can just call him Staatspresident unless he says otherwise. If you use his name, always put some sort of title in front of it or even just Meneer (mister). Basically, as he permits formalities to lessen between you, you may reflect that as well.”

“Also…” and the security man let go of Sarah’s hand at that point, “do not touch him, unless he does so first. He is a very private man and does not like to make physical contact.”

Unbeknownst to Sarah, the security guard also did not want to be seen holding the hand of a white woman. Despite the fall of apartheid twenty years ago, intimate contact between the races was still uncomfortable and often looked down upon. The formal walls of segregation may have come down, but many invisible barriers still remained.

By now they were walking around the back of the house. A light breeze picked up as they approached the patio. A swimming pool, rather small in size, was located around back and they walked along a cobblestone path to get around it. In front of them was a wrought iron garden table with two chairs. On one of the chairs sat a recognizable grey-haired figure in a navy suit and wearing glasses – reading what appeared to be a newspaper. On the table was a teapot.

“Wait here…” the security guard instructed Sarah when they reached around fifty feet away. He walked up to the Staatspresident, leaned and whispered something in his ear. The guard then motioned for Sarah to approach.

As she made her way towards the table, Botha stood up to greet her. She noticed his left hand was bandaged up. What then struck her was the size of the man, he stood around 6’4” tall and while not heavy in weight, he nevertheless seemed to tower over everyone by his height and sheer presence of personality. She had seen numerous photographs of Botha but they never really gave much indication of his physique.

Botha held out his hand. “Goeiedag mejuffrou Tintagyl, good afternoon!” he spoke, mispronouncing her name ‘tuhn-teh-hhrale’ as it would be said as spelt in Afrikaans. “Welcome to George Farm, this is my home when I am not in the capital. I do not get many visitors here, so this is an exceptional day...”

Botha motioned for her to sit down. He then poured out a cup of rooibos tea for her, serving it with milk and a slice of lemon. He then poured out a cup for himself and sat down.

“I trust you had a safe journey under the circumstances?”

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The amount of protocol and instructions for meeting Mr. Botha were enough to make Sarah's head spin as she walked along with the African servant towards the farm house. There was of course the necessity to call the man by a title, which she had always done with world leaders so this one wasn't new, even if she had become less formal since the dissolution of the state, however not touching him was something utterly strange to Sarah, who had always make it a point to extend her touch to anyone she was speaking to and for Botha, not even a handshake was sure to drive her up the all. Nevertheless, Sarah agreed, meeting Botha was much more important to her than not adhering to the customs of the people around her and for a woman that brought herself up on the ideas of multi-culturalism, not giving Botha the respect he deserved was out of the question.

As they approached the back of the farmhouse, the servant told her to wait as he walked forward to alert the Staatspresident of Tintagyl's arrival. In a moment, she saw him mention her forward and with a deep breath and a great stride Sarah walked across the cobblestone path towards the patio. Walking forward, the man stood up and for the first time Sarah was able to get a good look at the venerable leader, he was tall, very tall, and for Sarah who was a small girl of 5' 4", the man towered over her, but that didn't stop her from sending a beaming smile back to him.

“Goeiedag mejuffrou Tintagyl, good afternoon! Welcome to George Farm, this is my home when I am not in the capital. I do not get many visitors here, so this is an exceptional day...”

Sarah chuckled at the pronunciation of her name. "If I may Your Excellency, 'Tin-ta-gael', otherwise I'll be chuckling our whole luncheon. But I understand perfectly with the difficulty of the name. You aren't the first and I promise you won't be the last, it's always been a pleasure going around the world and to press conferences where you can here fifty different variations of your name, though I much like the Afrikaaner sounding of it, I may have to adopt it." She watched him pour her a cup of tea and then sat down after pouring his own cup.

“I trust you had a safe journey under the circumstances?”

Sarah smiled again and chuckled. "I guess you could say it like that. Honestly since Italy everything has been extremely smooth for me, but if you go back further, since the Fall of the Hansa, my life has been one big adventure after another, its nice to just relax again for once. But at the moment, things have been very enjoyable. Though." She smiled. " Your helicopter." Sarah put her hand up and shook her head. "I don't know how you can fly in that thing comfortably, maybe its just my fear of flying, but good God was I scared, though its something I'll never forget I can assure you." She sighed. "Though I have to thank you, you and Annetjie both for allowing me this opportunity. I've wanted to come to Transvaal for a long time, a very long time and the country is more spectacular than I would have ever imagined."

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"If I may Your Excellency, 'Tin-ta-gael', otherwise I'll be chuckling our whole luncheon. But I understand perfectly with the difficulty of the name. You aren't the first and I promise you won't be the last, it's always been a pleasure going around the world and to press conferences where you can here fifty different variations of your name, though I much like the Afrikaaner sounding of it, I may have to adopt it."

“Tintagyl…” Botha said, pronouncing Sarah’s name correctly. He laughed, “before we met today, the only news I had about you was through our media services. Naturally they have mangled your name, so you must accept my apologies for mangling it now. I have the same problem with my own name – even here in Transvaal you hear variations due to dialectal pronunciations.”

" Your helicopter." Sarah put her hand up and shook her head. "I don't know how you can fly in that thing comfortably, maybe its just my fear of flying, but good God was I scared, though its something I'll never forget I can assure you."

“That old bird is the best in Nordic technology built to last. I acquired it during a visit to Deutschland a long, long time ago when Transvaal was just standing on its own feet – so you must excuse me for being sentimental towards it. It has never failed me yet, and as we Afrikaners have learnt over the years, we cannot turn our backs on those who have proven their reliability, loyalty, and dependability.”

"Though I have to thank you, you and Annetjie both for allowing me this opportunity. I've wanted to come to Transvaal for a long time, a very long time and the country is more spectacular than I would have ever imagined."

“This pleases me to hear these most kind words.” Botha then laughed again, “Ah yes, our dear prime minister, she is certainly something else. I am glad to see her working so hard. She had a legacy of political baggage which I thought might have brought her down, but she seems to have been remarkable beyond anyone’s expectations – myself included. I just hope for her sake she can maintain herself and not fall back into her own selfish ways.”

“So, the famous Sarah Tintagyl… here in Transvaal. I have to admit that we keep our heads buried in the sands of Southern Africa, but from what I gather you have had quite an interesting life. Imagine that, here we are… having a quiet cup of tea, while in other times the world would be trembling from our words and actions, what do you make of that?”

Sarah could sense that Botha was trying to put them on a level footing, lest the young woman be unnecessarally intimidated by the Old Man.

Edited by Botha
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“So, the famous Sarah Tintagyl… here in Transvaal. I have to admit that we keep our heads buried in the sands of Southern Africa, but from what I gather you have had quite an interesting life. Imagine that, here we are… having a quiet cup of tea, while in other times the world would be trembling from our words and actions, what do you make of that?”

Sarah smiled and bowed her head to the ground. "You do me too much honor Your Excellency, I have been trying to shrink back away from fame, though it is a bit hard considering what has been going on in the former territories of the Hansa." She sighed. "I'm known more as a witch today than as a leader, but such is the life of one that travels with the wind. Things will get better for those people, I have a great suspicion that the wheels somewhere in the world are already turning to make that land great once again." The girl looked back up at Botha and nodded her head. "But as to an interesting life, yes, I think God like to mess around with me. But to be perfectly honest Your Excellency, everything that transpired in the past ten years or so. I never wanted for any of this to happen."

"Honestly, I wanted to be a school teacher, but well my father had other plans for my life and after ten years of surviving a nuclear blast, two biological bombings, three wars, and building an Empire that I do hope that the world will not soon forget I find myself here after becoming a commando in the service of Empress Nadine Peacecraft." Sarah sighed. "I think that for just being someone in their early thirties, I've lived quite the life. But as to the world trembling, I would rather it tremble by someone else's words. If I have learned one thing on this journey Your Excellency that the majority of this world is extremely stupid. They want to be ruled by overlords and imperialists, and I guess I can't call names because I myself was an imperialist." She sighed again. "I guess that's why I left, the world has confused me to the point that I'm nothing more than a lost child. Perhaps its immature running away from responsibility and power. But such is the way of the world. I have gone West have have no intention of returning to the East. My life as a leader is hopefully over."

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After listening to her incredible and interesting story, Botha remarked “Well, we often cannot choose the course which Fate dictates for us.”

“Three years ago, or thereabouts, when I stood up to [the in-game] Nelson Mandela and proclaimed my people’s independence from his corrupt, rogue regime, little did I even know that one day I would be responsible for the lives of everyone residing in Southern Africa. Very few people – except perhaps for Emperor Mudd of Tahoe – gave Transvaal much chance of survival considering we lived in the military and political shadow of two other rival powers in South Africa – namely, ANC ruled South Africa under Nelson Mandela and the Boer Staat under High Chancellor Hendrik von Kruger. Yet here we are today, drinking our tea on this most pleasant day within earshot of the birds here singing in the trees – yet Boer Staat and ANC South Africa have been long dead and buried. Strange how fate works sometimes - isn't it?”

Botha then changed directions… “But enough about the past…”

He poured out more tea for Sarah Tintagyl and then asked. “So, do you ever see yourself reclaiming your former glory in Australia?”

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Sarah smiled at his question.

"Not by my hand no, but there are forces that are at work in this world and I do not believe that that saga of the Hanseatic Commonwealth is over just yet. You see Your Excellency, I have been around the world for a long time, and of all the nations, Nordland, Transvaal, Promised Land, these nations are a constant, along with the Hansa. They say that it is because the leaders are constant, you, Martens, Subtleknifewielder, but..." Sarah placed her hand on the table and undid a small ring from her hand, on the ring was a beautiful silver feather outlined in gold. "This is the ring of the Lady Protector, along with this, there was also a locket of the same image. The ring is to represent the past and what the country was, order, stability, peace. The locket is to represent the future, influence, power, glory." She opened the top of her shirt to show that her neck was bare. "Someone has this locket and I have been paying close attention to her and her travels have lead her into the pits of Hell themselves. I do not know if she is alive or dead at this point, but until that locket is once again in my hands, then no, the Hansa will not rise again by my hands."

"However Your Excellency, I can assure you this, it will return and it will be a voice of peace yet again for the world and perhaps I will watch as the great leaders and myths of the past to see my people grow and prosper again. From, oh so far away. In fact, it was one of the questions that I thought of proposing for you myself. You have a beautiful country here Your Excellency, one that I believe I could rest my head in. Would the Staatspresident of Transvaal be in the least bit upset if the former Lady Protector and her family were to settle in his country permanently so that I might be able to focus on my memoirs and my future as, perhaps someone a bit more reserved from the struggles of world politics?"

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“By all means you are welcome to take up residence here in Transvaal…”

Botha then looked intensely at Sarah Tintagyl. The conspiratorial expression in his eyes now made her realize where he got his nickname of Big Crocodile. He then smiled…

“…but what if I told you there was a way you could regain a silver of Australian territory and remain under my protection?”

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Sarah looked at him curiously. "Well I would be interested, you I must tell you that I am quite a woman of my own free-will so I would hope there wouldn't be many strings to this deal. But yes, go on, I am listening to you. Quite curious indeed."

Botha then sat back in his chair.

"The Cocos Keeling Islands in the Eastern Indian Ocean. Australian territory before the Great Scramble for claims which resulted in them ending up under Franzharian rule. We acquired them in September 2008 when the Franzharian Empire collapsed and subsequently transfered them to Transvaal."

"Apart from a radio station and transmiter located on one of the islands which we use to monitor ship traffic in that part of the Indian Ocean - and radio to our allies such as Tahoe and Arctica - we have basically left them alone. I realise that they are fairly remote from civilisation, but you are welcome to set yourself up there. We could make you an automonous province of Transvaal so you would be under our military protection - but free to do otherwise what you want, such as re-direct the radio broadcasting transmiter towards Australia and broadcast propaganda and such..."

"Each week the military flies mail runs out to our remaining Indian Ocean islands, so you would have a means to get supplies as well as get to and from the Republic mainland should the need arise."

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Sarah's eyes fluttered open in absolute shock. "Your Excellency, I...I...I would be honored. This, this is one of the nicest thing someone has ever done for me." She couldn't help herself as she jumped forward across the table and embraced him like a little girl would do to her grandfather. "I am eternally in your debt, honestly, I have a place to retire and can still watch the world, it would be perfect." The former Lady Protector looked up into the man's eyes as her's twinkled in the sunlight. "There must be some way that I can repay you for such a gift, there must be something that I could do for you. To be able to see my homeland from the distance again, it would be a true blessing." She hugged him tighter and buried her head into his heart. "Thank you Your Excellency, thank you so much."

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Botha looked rather uncomfortable as Sarah hugged him, but he could tell that she was ecstatic with his offer so he let her do so. He discretely waved off two guards which has been watching from afar but suddenly moved towards the meeting area when they saw Sarah make contact with the Staatspresident.

“Okay, okay… enough…” he laughed. After Sarah backed off, he continued:

“I realize the islands aren’t much but some atolls with palm trees and such, but in theory you would back in Australia technically so to speak. All I ask is if you ever find that you no longer require their usage, then please kindly relinquish them back to my government. Also, please do not hinder the military use of the radio station.”

Botha then motioned for one of his security to bring some paper and a pen. He began to scribble up a hasty proclamation. He then handed the sheet of paper back to the guard, and instructed “Please forward this to Pretoria and make sure it is made public through the prime minister’s office and foreign minister.”

Botha then sat back in his chair.

“Well, Miss Tintagyl, I have just proclaimed the establishment of the Autonomous Province of Nieu-Hansa as part of the Republic of Transvaal and appointed you the provincial governor.”

Edited by Botha
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Sarah let go of the Staatspresident nervously. "I'm sorry, they told me that I shouldn't touch you and for that I apologize. I just get carried away sometimes." She said pushing the hair out of her eyes. "But as to what you told me to do, I promise, though I plan then to retire on the atolls so I doubt that until I die there would be any need for the reinstatement. They of course will follow Transvaaler law, Transvaaler doctrine, but it will be nice to be in the sun once and for all and to be able to relax. As to the military radio." Sarah laughed. "You'll probably find it with dust on and about it. Other people can handle propaganda, it is not for me to do. But after this meeting here, if I would be able to get a plane to take me to Nieu-Hansa, I would be most appreciated, there are many family things I will have to take care of once I arrive."

"I can finally be a mother of two and a wife of one without having to worry about the destruction of this god-awful world of ours."

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REPUBLIEK VAN TRANSVAAL

FROM THE OFFICE OF STAATSPRESIDENT BOTHA

By the authority vested in me as Staatspresident of the Republic of Transvaal, I hereby proclaim the establishment of the autonomous province of Nieu-Hansa over the Cocos Keeling Islands.

For the posting of Provincial Governor, I hereby appoint Sarah Tintagyl.

As provincial governor and member of the Executive Cabinet of the Republic, Governor Tintagyl is hereby protected as a full citizen of the Republic of Transvaal and subject to all the benefits which citizenship entails.

[signed]

Botha

Staatspresident of the Republic

October 12, 2009

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But after this meeting here, if I would be able to get a plane to take me to Nieu-Hansa, I would be most appreciated, there are many family things I will have to take care of once I arrive."

"Why, of course! Arrangements will be made. Is there anything else you wish to discuss - or shall you be on your way now?"

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"Why, of course! Arrangements will be made. Is there anything else you wish to discuss - or shall you be on your way now?"

Sarah sighed as she looked back up at the Staatspresident. "I feel like we've only just met and yet there are so many questions for me to ask you but I'm not quite sure where I can even begin. The mere fact that I can be close to my homeland, my adopted homeland again is more than I could ever have asked for and I have you to thank for that Your Excellency. I sincerely hope that I can bring as much prosperity to my little island as you have done to Transvaal here. Ever since I was a little girl, I admired this country, sure I detested some of its policies, some of its leaders, but something always drew me towards Transvaal. It is a fitting end to my story and for that I am eternally in your debt." Sarah rose from the table. "Yes, I would love to see the islands as soon as possible, but I sincerely hope that I will be able to be just as part of daily Transvaaler government as you and Annetjie are. My new adopted country and my new adopted father, it will be a story that I hope to write very soon."

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Staatspresident Botha embraced Sarah and then showed her to the door.

“No doubt mejuffrou we shall meet again many times, I wish you godspeed on your journey. I hope Nieu-Hansa is everything you want it to be. And as one of our provincial governors, of course you are free to attend executive government meetings whenever you may find yourself in Pretoria.”

Sarah was then led by Botha’s security to the waiting helicopter as the staatspresident watched from his doorstep. ‘An intriguing young woman she is, I do believe Annetjie may have found her match’ he thought to himself as he looked upwards at the twin-rotor helicopter now airborne.

In a few hours Sarah would find herself in Johannesburg to board a B-1 Lansier bomber which would then drop her off during its mail-run to Transvaal’s most eastern and isolated location of its so-called ‘empire’.

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