The Saboteur and the Swan

Preface

The Saboteur and the Swan

***

"You little shit you're in it now,

I hope they throw away the key.

You should have talked to me more often

Than you did, but no! You had to go

Your own way, have you broken any

Homes up lately?"

- Pink Floyd, The Trial

***

Preface

***

Misha Tenanbaum only had two jackets- one of which was a military-issued leather coat with wool lining on the inside and rims. She had gotten it as a freebie when she enlisted five years ago, but she had a different mindset then, along with an ever changing perspective of how the world worked. Understanding the fundamentals of a constantly progressing society is a daunting task, but Misha held that as the basis of her new found philosophy in the genesis of the next chapter of her life.

As far as she was concerned, Misha was standing on the soil of another world- one parallel to her own, yet unorthodox and of a completely different nature. Moonfall . . . a place she had grown up only listening to experiences told from her father about the accursed land. A place that she associated directly with iniquitous adventures and calamitous events. A malignant purlieu, Misha was hesitant about traveling here, (especially alone), but she tried to muster up any positivity left in her vessel to view her current situation as an opportunity . . .

Misha scoffed at her own insensate mind-babble as she made herself commit to a reality check. There were people all around her, but she wasn't affiliated with anyone except herself. For seven tight-quartered weeks that she spent traveling via watercraft, she didn't make any friends, only small aquaintances as she idled her time in her own company. That in itself wasn't anything new, as for Misha was never spectacular in the art of the social nature. She had spent her life drifting from here to there, but this sand in time was different than the others. Misha would be turning 30 in three years, but from all of her travels and residencies, she was always accompanied by her father. Now, all she had left was herself.

Misha Tenanbaum had understood from the beginning that her odyssey wouldn't be accomplished legally by any means, but she had expected to land at a more civilized area. Instead, she found herself standing on the shore of a desolate, ashen-colored beach that gradually transitioned into a thicket of nebulous woodlands. Even the sea was stained with dark shades- a complete contrast to the lively hues of her homeland. The only noteworthy colors she witnessed were floating in the sky as little pink and yellow clouds hung around half-heartedly. Misha could see the rims of what remaining sun rays were left on the bottom half of the horizon that bordered the forest.

There were only 75 people that stayed on the boat for the near two months they had been at sea, and that minuscule number included the crew. The ship she sailed on, the Maria O'Nella, had been named after a famous prostitute from the Great Eastern Isles who died some number of years ago. The boat itself was masqueraded as a fishing vessel that specialized in reeling in large aquatic mammals, while the interior had been redesigned with slum-like cabins that successfully boarded civilians and criminals alike who wished to leave her native land of Sire Vonsen without legal documentation. Misha was neither one of these, but with her history, she couldn't have anyone knowing about her whereabouts. The only other soul that was aware of her plans of taking semi-permanent residency in Moonfall was her farther, Sir Wesley Tenanbaum. That, however, was an entirely different matter, and Misha had to deal with the situation at hand: where the hell was she suppose to go?

People ambled past her like ghosts as they scurried off of the ramp from the skiff. Misha watched wordlessly as they all slowly started to migrate towards the woods- all going in slightly different directions than the other. Some went in pairs, but most of them wandered without an escort. Most all of these people were troubled and looking to find a new beginning in a foreign land, (in a way, that included Misha herself).

Misha disbanded her current train of thought before she turned and gestured toward a middle-aged man emerging from the vessel with a concerned look on his face.

"Excuse me, can you tell me which direction I should go if I'm trying to find Orion?"

"Fuck off." The man grumbled without even stopping, knocking into her with his shoulder as he brushed past her.

Having already dealt with enough disrespect in her life, Misha ignored the rude gentleman and repeated her question to an older-looking woman that had an obvious drug problem, who in response gave her the simple answer of "north." That was just fine with Misha, who actually remembered to bring a compass. Despite the nifty navigational tool, Misha wasn't prepared for the task that laid before her- that was more than evident. She had basic items such as clothes, a sleeping bag, and some cigarettes and what not, but she lacked a steady supply of food and entertainment. On her hip, she had an eight-barrelled revolver while slung around her back, safely contained in a sheath, she carried with her an expertly-crafted samurai sword that she had inherited from her father. She wasn't completely faithful she would be able to handle the elements, but she was more than confident that she could handle trouble.

Taking in the scenery once more, Misha noted that nightfall would be arriving in a mere several hours. Before dusk made an appearance, she wanted to at least get in a few miles before finding a tree to rest her head on, (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Misha Tenanbaum's boots soon touched the earthen floor as she ventured north, her half-smirk fading away as the reality of her situation dawned on her.