The council chamber in the Presidential Palace of Manila was filled with silence. For the last ten years the Philippines had been slowly progressing towards total independence.
And now the ships in the harbor said otherwise.
Outside the window, one could see in the distance that the port was filled with freighters, a newly painted ANZAC transport ship, and a pair of US Liberty-class troop carriers already taking on fuel.
The sound of diesel and gulls threaded the air like a warning.
Ambassador James Halvey smoothed his tie, an anachronism of silk and American confidence, and folded his hands on the mahogany table.
Across from him sat the Transitional Council for Philippine Independence: a mix of former guerrilla commanders, technocratic economists, and a woman who had once run a provincial hospital and now ran the Council's public health portfolio.
There was an undercurrent of fatigue in every one of their faces. Ten years of transition had aged them ahead of the calendar.
