San Francisco, California – Port of San Francisco
The USS Arathia sliced through the cold Pacific waters as it approached the docks of San Francisco Bay. The towering hills of the city were partially shrouded in morning mist, but the crowds gathered along the waterfront were unmistakable.
Matthew Hesh stood on the deck, hands in his pockets, his coat flapping slightly in the wind. Behind him, Amber adjusted her hold on baby Sophia while Maverick tugged at the hem of his father's coat.
"Why are there so many people, Daddy?" Maverick asked, craning his neck to look at the thousands of onlookers packed near the docks.
Matthew exhaled. "Because they want answers, buddy."
And he wasn't wrong. News of the assassination attempt in Japan had spread like wildfire across Arathia and the world. Speculation was rampant—so believed it was a failed coup, others whispered about foreign powers trying to spark war. The newspapers had published contradictory reports, leading to even more confusion.
As the ship closed the final distance to the pier, Collins walked up beside Matthew. "Looks like the press is out in full force," he muttered. "And from the looks of it, they're hungry."
Matthew glanced toward the dock, where dozens of journalists from the country's largest newspapers—The Arathian Post, The San Francisco Herald, The Liberty Tis—were waiting impatiently, notebooks and caras at the ready.
"Let them eat," Matthew said dryly. "We're not hiding anything."
Collins chuckled. "Brave man."
The mont the gangplank was lowered, the roar of voices erupted. Reporters shoved their way forward, calling out questions, trying to get the first word from the President himself.
Matthew stepped down with Amber at his side, his security detail moving into position to keep the crowd from getting too close. Maverick stayed close to his father, his small hand gripping tightly onto his coat.
Then the questions began.
"Mr. President! Can you confirm if Russia was involved in the attack?"
"Was this an attempt on your life, sir?"
"Is Japan covering up the truth?"
"Does this an war between Arathia and foreign powers?"
Matthew raised a hand, signaling for calm.
The noise died down just enough for his voice to carry over the crowd.
"I understand that there are many questions and I will address them. But let be clear—Arathia is not at war. Japan is not at war. And we will not let fear dictate our actions."
The journalists imdiately fired back.
"Then what do you say about the claims that radical nationalists in Japan were behind the attempt?"
"The investigation is ongoing. But I can assure you that Emperor Yoshihito and the Japanese governnt are committed to uncovering the truth."
A reporter pushed forward. "But why did you leave so quickly, sir? Was there a security risk?"
Matthew hesitated for only a second. He had expected this question.
"I left because I had a duty to return ho," he said carefully. "The safety of my family was a concern, yes. But I also have a nation to govern, and our allies in Japan understood that."
"Sir, do you believe The Order is involved?"
Matthew's expression darkened slightly. "We don't deal in speculation. We deal in facts. And the fact is, the people responsible will be held accountable—wherever they are, whoever they are."
The questions continued—rapid, relentless.
Matthew answered where he could, carefully dodging where he had to. This wasn't just about information—it was about maintaining stability. If he said too much, it could spark international tensions. If he said too little, Arathia would look weak.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, he raised a hand once more. "That's all for now. I appreciate your patience, but there's work to be done."
Collins stepped in, ushering them toward the awaiting carriage. Amber glanced at her husband, noting the way his jaw was set.
"You handled that well," she murmured as they climbed inside.
Matthew sighed, rubbing his temple. "I told them what they needed to hear. Nothing more."
Maverick leaned against him. "Daddy, does this an you have to go back to work now?"
Matthew looked at his son, his expression softening. "Yes, buddy. But I promise I'll be ho for dinner."
Maverick bead. "Good! Mama makes the best roast chicken!"
Amber smirked. "I do."
With that—his security detail escorted the President's family to the awaiting automobile, which would take them to the airport.
The journalists who weren't satisfied with the answers that they have got from the President chased him, but they were stopped by the security details who ford a protective barrier around him.
The family hopped inside the automobile and then departed from the bay.
Maverick pressed his face against the window, watching the streets blur past. "Are we going back ho now?" he asked.
Matthew ruffled his son's hair. "Not quite yet, buddy. First, we're heading to the airport."
Maverick's eyes widened. "Are we flying?"
Matthew nodded. "Yes. It'll get us back to Washington, D.C. much faster."
Amber shifted Sophia in her arms, adjusting the blanket around their daughter. "It's been a long journey," she said softly. "I'm just glad we're almost there."
The automobile pulled up in front of San Francisco International Airfield, a relatively new facility still under construction but already serving a growing number of flights. A private military aircraft awaited them on the tarmac, its engines already warming up for departure.
The security detail stepped out first, scanning the area before signaling that it was clear. Matthew exited the vehicle with Amber beside him, Maverick gripping his father's hand tightly as they made their way toward the plane.
Collins walked up beside Matthew. "We've got a direct route to D.C., should take a little over ten hours. We'll have full radio contact with the White House the entire way."
Matthew gave a small nod. "Good. I need to be briefed on everything the mont we land."
As they reached the stairs leading into the aircraft, Maverick paused. "Daddy, do I get to sit by the window?"
Matthew chuckled, squeezing his son's hand. "Of course, buddy."
Amber shot her husband a knowing look. "And what about ?"
Matthew smirked. "You can sit by ."
Amber rolled her eyes but smiled as they stepped aboard.
As the engines roared to life, the plane taxied down the runway. Matthew exhaled, sinking into his seat as he gazed out the window. The cityscape of San Francisco grew smaller in the distance as they ascended into the sky.
They were finally heading ho.
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