XIX: Call for Help

... I don't know how we're going to be able to keep in touch anymore.... It's as if Nana has some sixth sense that can pick out anything related to you and destroy it. Your comm frequency has been blocked at her estate. Now she's burned your letters before I had the chance to even read them. There's got to be another way..I'm sure of it. Maybe you can come up with something. 

I love you, Daddy. 
B 

Okins slammed his fist down onto the desk in frustration and tossed the letter down. There's got to be some way to get through.... He looked up to see his fellow officers returning to their offices signaling the end of the lunch hour. As he turned back to his computer, the general office secretary came in and set a stack of files onto his desk.

"Your latest reports, sir." she said before turning back to her station out front.

"Thanks," he muttered, grabbing the first file off the stack and opened it. Scanning through the page's contents, he stopped upon reaching a familiar officer's name. He paused, leaning back in his chair, thinking, exchanging glances from the file in his hands to the letter sitting on his desk.

That's it! The admiral stood and moved to the filing cabinet in the corner of his office. He yanked open the top drawer and sorted through the folders until he found the file he was looking for. He flipped through it in his hands, then returned it to the cabinet. Pausing for a moment to correctly gather his thoughts Okins then stepped out of his office to address the secretary.

"Irma, contact the destroyer Exactor. I want Commander Brisard in my office by the end of the week."

XVIII: Letter Lost

Rebecca sat in her room at the window looking down at the grounds below. Everything had been relatively quiet at the house. After the last two weeks, she had practically run out of topics to argue about and the for the first time in week, she and her grandmother had been getting along fairly well.

A figure below caught her eye. The mail carrier was leaving the grounds. Rebecca immediately bolted from her window seat and scurried downstairs hoping to view the stack of envelopes before her guardian. She peered into the parlor where at this time of the afternoon, her grandmother usually sat by the fireplace and sipped her tea. Sure enough, the woman was seated in her usual armchair by the fire, her teacup in her hands. However, Rebecca's gaze focused on the small table beside the chair. There lay the stack of mail, untouched. Rebecca took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"Good afternoon, Nana." she smiled sweetly, walking over to where Elsa was sitting and giving her a small peck on the cheek.

"Rebecca dear," Elsa said, "It's nice to see you out of your room for a change. I missed you at lunch..."

"I'm sorry," she paused, "I wasn't very hungry."

"Not to worry. I had chef save you a platter for later."

"Thanks, Nana." Rebecca said, eying the mail. "Is that today's post?

"It is."

"...anything for me?"

Elsa put down her teacup and looked at her granddaughter. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"For the last two weeks you've come to me every day the post had been delivered asking me the same question."

"I'm just curious..." Rebecca answered, watching her grandmother sort through the stack of envelopes.

"I'm sure you--" Elsa paused, looking at one of the envelopes carefully. "So...this must be what you're so excited about, hmm? A letter from your father. How quaint."

Rebecca swallowed nervously. "May I have it, please?" she asked, quietly.

"No. You can not."

"Why??" she demanded. "You never said I couldn't write to him!"

"I told you I don't want any reference to your father in this household, Rebecca. That includes all correspondence-- including post."

Rebecca said nothing, looking long fully at the envelope in her grandmother's hands.

Elsa sighed. "I can see I'll just have to teach you a lesson the hard way." She said with a mix of calm and cold in her voice. "It's quite apparent my rules haven't sunken in to you yet, my darling. Let this serve as an example for you." She grasped the envelope firmly and tore it into quarters, tossing the pieces into the fire. "This is what will happen to any such letter I find delivered here with his name attached," Elsa stood and headed for the door. In the doorway, she paused and turned back to her granddaughter, "And if I find his letters continue to stream through our post, I will have to put harsher measures into place. Is that understood?"

Rebecca watched the envelope burn at the bottom of the fireplace. "Yes Nana..."