Seven thousand feet above the Pacific soared the Celeste II. In an earlier life it had been a Jefferson class Helicarrier with a crew component of seven hundred and fifty, an air wing of sixty four F-35s and a company of US marines. Decommissioned in 2015 after its reactor took damage in an engagement with REDACTED over the coasts of REDACTED it was sold to an audacious startup who rebuilt the warship of the skies into a sun-kissed luxury resort craft that catered to the one percent of the one percent.
Richard's helicopter touched down with hardly a bump and he climbed out onto the hardwood deck. There was hardly a scuff to be seen and the glow of the sun was reflected in the polished surface. A trio of staff awaited him, unpacking his luggage and taking his jacket.
"No." Richard didn't smoke.
"Of course sir. Might I offer the gentleman a tour?"
"Also no." He had memorized the layout on the way up.
With a respectful bow the staff stepped aside, sensing he wished to be alone. Only the best were employed on the Celeste II. Their clients would accept nothing less.
He took sunglasses from his pocket and walked out to stand next to the railing. The airship drifted into a cloud and wind ruffled the black tie that wrapped around the collar of his white Eton dress shirt.
Richard took it off and unbuttoned his collar as the airship drifted out of the cloud bank. Below the ocean gleamed blue like a sapphire a flock of birds wheeled, diving and rising-- little black dots specking the surface of the gem of the earth.
The billionaire placed his hands upon the ivory and gold trimmed railing and watched the waves.