Captain Lubasi sat quietly by the window as the aircraft descended toward Tunis.
Below him, the Mediterranean Sea shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. Most passengers admired the view, but Lubasi's thoughts were elsewhere.
They were with Marco Armani.
His friend was gone.
For several minutes, he stared at the clouds without speaking.
Memories flooded his mind.
He remembered the day they first met in the Central African Republic during a United Nations peacekeeping mission. Marco had been an Italian military observer, while Lubasi had been serving with a Zambian contingent.
At first, they had argued constantly.
Marco loved football.
Lubasi preferred military history.
Marco believed every problem could be solved over coffee.
Lubasi believed every problem required discipline.
Yet over the years, they had become brothers.
They had survived dangerous patrols together.
Shared meals together.
Laughed together.
And more than once, they had saved each other's lives.
Now Marco was dead.
Not in a war.
Not in a conflict zone.
Not while serving under the United Nations.
A simple car accident had taken him.
Life could be cruelly unpredictable.
The aircraft touched down smoothly.
A few hours later, after collecting his luggage and completing immigration procedures, Lubasi found himself standing at the port of Tunis.
Before him stood the Santa Lucia.
The passenger ship would carry him overnight across the Mediterranean to Rome.
From there, he would attend Marco's funeral.
The vessel was magnificent.
Its white hull gleamed in the evening sunlight.
Passengers moved up and down the boarding ramps while crew members loaded supplies.
Lubasi smiled faintly.
For years he had traveled by military aircraft, helicopters, and armored vehicles.
A sea voyage was something entirely different.
Perhaps, he thought, it would help clear his mind.
As he boarded the ship, a young crewman rushed past him carrying equipment.
The sailor's face looked troubled.
Moments later, another crewman approached him.
"Everything ready?" the second sailor asked.
The young man glanced toward the horizon.
"Almost."
His voice sounded uneasy.
The second sailor followed his gaze.
Far away, dark clouds were gathering above the sea.
"Weather report?" he asked.
The young sailor nodded.
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Then the older sailor forced a smile.
"It will probably miss us."
"Probably," the younger man replied.
Lubasi frowned.
Soldiers learn to recognize fear.
The young sailor was afraid.
Very afraid.
Yet the sea before them appeared calm and harmless.
A whistle sounded.
Passengers completed boarding.
The engines rumbled to life.
Slowly, the Santa Lucia pulled away from the harbor and began its journey toward Rome.
As the coastline of Tunisia faded behind them, Captain Lubasi stood at the railing watching the horizon.
Far in the distance, beyond the peaceful waters, dark clouds continued gathering.
And they were moving closer.
Much closer.