The Extended Steam Salon

[MWBailey]

In the office deep inside of the building (A Gigantic sheet-iron-and-brick Warehouse) at 132613 Chaise-a-Geuse Road, among the depths of the Waterfront District of a steam-and-diesel-driven alternate version of Chicago Illinois of the 1940s,  Another greenish flash showed in a line of booths; over 125 booths were in that line, and there were 25 lines of booths, all of them intermittently flashing green either after someone entered or just before someone exited. It was not generally known to anyone outside of the organization, but it this was the only way to enter the True Administrative and R & D sections of the Aunt Sally Condiments Division of the Kemmermann Shipping Company; A dummy set of such offices existed in roughly the same space, in a different dimension that coincided with the Real-Time physical occurrence that was known as the warehouse at 132613 Chaise-a-Guese Road.

It was also not generally known that this was the Earth Portal headquarters of the temporal-regulatory organization called A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.I. As such, it was not actually inside the warehouse that housed the temporal anomaly ion which it did reside. In a complicated bit of temporal physics, it existed both in and not in regular space, but rather in a huge bubble of 'anti-time' or, as some have put it before, a 'state of temporal grace.' It was a zone in which normal mundane physics did not wholly rule the Real.

Eddie Beltane stepped out of the Booth Complex, heading for the office of Sally Kemmermann, (generally and customarily addressed as 'Miss Sally'), Head of AUNTSALLI and The Committee.

He stopped at the Dispatcher's Window, turned in his chit, and asked if Miss Sally were in.  "I'll Check, Officer Beltane," the pretty brunette at the window's counter said. Just then, the intercom buzzer at  her elbow sounded, and she pressed a telephone handpiece to her ear. "Yes, Miss Shirley, he's right here, he just arrived....Yes Ma'am. Understood. She typed up a new chit on the Underwood typewriter before her, and handed it to Beltane, saying, "You are ordered back to Relevant Time 1942, the Extended Steam Salon, Mr. Beltane. Our apologies for the abrupt turnaround, but the party you were sent to find will be there when you arrive, and the situation you are to work to rectify will have begun to develop. We're so sorry for the SNAFU." The brunette smiled and gestured back toward the Booth Complex. "Use Booth 35, and punch in your number, and transport authorization sequence five."

Eddie Turned around, muttered, "wish they'd make up their damn minds, or call me before I come back or something," but marched straight back to the Booth Complex, entered Booth 35 and did as instructed. Minutes later, he was back in the Steam salon, strolling toward the bar, and looking around at the rest of the establishment in a casual sort of way. He sat at the bar, and Mac turned around from the drink-dispensing fountain, saying, "Mr Beltane! So good to see you again. What'll you be having?".

"Howdy Mac," Eddie said, digging in his pants pocket and pulling out a Finn and handing it ove rto Mac. I'll have a Mug of that ale I had last time."

"Good Choice, sir, we've just laid in a new shipment this afternoon." Mac Said as he held teh mug under teh tap and filled it with teh requested beverage.

"Say, Mac, uh, anybody , you know, odd-like, come in while I was gone?" Eddie murmured in a low voice to the Brass Bartender.

"No, Sir," Mac said in an equally low voice,, slowly and metallically, "But that blonde gentleman, the one who looks like a seaman, over at that table, there, is new."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

(ooc) was just trying to keep it alive for now.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Sidebar

I also, am posting to keep this thread extant...I have to set up a new printer, and definitely wish to print this story in a permanent form.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles gets up from the table he has been sitting at walks over to the bar and asks" is their a resonable hotel around here close .I think I'LL be in town a while, as my ship is in drydock for the next three weeks and i don't feel like staying aboard? while you are figuring the answer out i'd like  another whiskey and another bottle of mead if you have it,thanks : as the 'tender pours the shot glass full again and sets anouthe quart of honey wine on the bar after pulling the cork.  Miles pays him and turns back to his table,limping a bit as he goes.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

.

[The Abiliegh]

Just a post to keep this alive... And to inquire if it is indeed time for another? I'm most certainly open to ideas!

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

my dear,The Abiliegh  ,i would be willing to contribute to a new story line ,i enjoyed being drug along in y'alls slipstream the last time. t'was a great ride to me.         Miles

[The Abiliegh]

OOC: Seeing as we've had ourselves a Western and a Noir, I've been condisering a new setting for our collective writing efforts, and I've gorwn fond of the idea of using a little port town on the Congo River, giving us opportunities for safari, steamers, and jungle dangers all manner of exciting. My other thoughts include Cairo, and perhaps something more traditional, like Boston, Chicago or New York at the turn of the century... Opinions?

[The Abiliegh]

I just spent the past couple of workdays re-reading this, and by JOVE, what a ride! There were definitely some bumps and some glaring inconsistancies, but, upon the level of completion it reached, this was a fantastically compelling story. I am sad to see that most of our participants do not appear to be posting any longer.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

the RSM is around , spotted a post by him a few days/hour ago.
                                                  miles

[The Abiliegh]

RSM?

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

`Thistlewaite

[The Abiliegh]

Ah yes. I've been sendng whispers to his ears about another jaunt via facebook

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

The Cruzan rum is good, the sun is bright, and the sand is warm. The gulls are making their usual squabble, and all is right with the little microcosm that is Key West. Still, Tommy thinks, retirement is not all it's cracked up to be. It's almost too perfect, and the truth is, he is bored. Mrs. Cross has made great progress with their little Martian, who is actually a bit bigger now, and may be nearly capable of assuming his duties as "King" of the Martian collective hive mind. She has been diligent, and their time here has been productive, but, aside from an occasional walk together, she has been much more involved with the little fellow than Tommy has, leaving him feeling a bit like a fifth wheel. Having been a man of action almost all his life, this idyllic place was very nice, for a while. They have been here nearly a year. Occasionally, a telegram from the Mainland arrives, always from his uncle, usually just a few sentences, inquiring as to their health, and vaguely intimating that The Iron Furnace still needs a General Manager. Standing, Tommy brushes golden sand from his legs, and ambles in the direction of his friend Ernest's bungalow...might as well have a buddy to get drunk with, and Ernest is an expert at that. He has almost arrived when there is a noise in the sky, faint at first, but steadily rising until it becomes a clattering roar, and a full size Pitcairn Autogyro settles onto the beach, sending seven toed cats running in every direction. It is, of course, his uncle, and the diminutive bundle of energy fairly leaps from the cockpit, landing on the sand in front of Tommy before the rotors have stopped turning. "Hello, lad, hello!" exclaims the old Baron, "Ready to be done with this laying about? It's not you, y'know....no, no, just won't do!" As the wiry old gentleman pumps his hand up and down, Tommy realizes that his uncle is quite right...it is time. Ernest appears in the door of his bungalow, cradling a ten gauge shotgun, squinting at the Autogyro, and looking none too pleased with the interruption. "I'm trying to get some writing done! What's all the racket?" Tommy smiles, and introduces the men. "Ernest, this is my uncle, Thomas Elihue Thistlewaite, the Baron Luxborough. Uncle, this is Mr. Ernest Hemingway."
Pleasantries exchanged, and drinks in hand, his uncle fixes him with a serious gaze. "As you may know...certainly hope you do...I have mining interests in Africa, along the Congo River. Things aren't right there, lately, no, no, not right at all. I need someone I can trust to go and sort it out, and you and your lady friend are the most able candidates...ready for some more adventure, lad?"

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC ;and away we go.

[The Abiliegh]

She heard the commotion of the autogyro outside, and rose from the table. The martian, she'd taken to calling him Perry, sat stoically, his head moving to watch her as she moved for the door. She felt a moment of motherly pride at the human gesture. He didn't need to watch her; the hive mind made that unnecessary.

Stepping into the Florida sun, she smiled, held her sun-hat to her head against the breeze, and started to make her way across the sand to the group of men. She'd always liked the old baron, and she liked watching Tommy around him. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she suspected that something was about to change.

"...ready for some more adventure, lad?" Thistlewaite's titanium teeth flashed brightly as she slipped under Tommy's arm.

"You say that like you have to ask him, Baron." She stood on tiptoe to kiss Tommy on the cheek. "Perry is as ready as he's ever going to be, and assuming there's a way to get him home, I wouldn't mind a little adventure myself." She felt the tickle of the martian's mind against hers, images of his home and of his people following. She felt agreement.

She knew how Tommy felt about their time spent in Key West and she wanted nothing more than to put this chapter to rest. She hoped the Baron would oblige. She and Tommy had grown to love each other in adversity, and what should have been their chance to lose themselves in each other had turned into her playing schoolteacher and him drinking with Ernest. Perhaps a little danger would patch up the hurt feelings.

[The Abiliegh]

OOC: I wonder if we should start a new thread for this. It would be nice to get some new attention and hopefully some new writers. What do ya both think?

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

ooc;

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

since i was not one of the original group on this thread it wouldn't bother me either way; staying here or starting anew. i was just a avid reader of the adventure you all created, quite fun to read.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"Getting your ...erm...protege home will present no problem, my dear. We have streamlined the process of traveling to and from the Red Planet a great deal...little blue fellows have been most helpful at their end, y'know...we can have him home within a fortnight. Still have to launch from the Virginia complex, but we have three smaller gun tubes now, so it is almost a matter of routine. The three of you will have to motor up, though, or take the train...the Pitcairn is a good ship, but only has one passenger seat." The old man is fairly beaming at them, obviously pleased. "Tommy, is your Buick still serviceable?" Tommy nods. "Yes, sir...I've kept her oiled and polished, but haven't run her much...no real need to drive here on the island. The salt air has been a bit of a challenge...I would prefer to leave it at Thistlewaite Hall if we are to be heading for the Dark Continent...without anyone here to keep the rust at bay, she'd be a pile of scrap in another year." The big man is also pleased...already he feels a rush of anticipation...he had not realized, until now, how numbing the peaceful routine of Key West had become. "I'll get the Buick ready, and we should be at th' Furnace within three or four days." Thistlewaite's head bobs quickly up and down. "Excellent! Excellent!" He pumps Tommy's hand again, embraces Abileigh (catching her somewhat by surprise and eliciting a small exhalation as he squeezes her...he is abnormally strong for an old fellow,) shakes Hemingway's hand, also, saying, "Very pleased to meet you, Sir...always enjoyed your books, got 'em all in the Library, y'know...if you're ever up in our area, feel more than welcome to drop by!" Then, with his rapid way of moving, he places a foot in the step on the side of the airframe and vaults back into the cockpit. "Toodle Pip, then! See you in a few days!" With that, he fires the big radial engine, engages the rotor, and, with a short take-off run, is back in the sky and rapidly fading into the distance northward bound. "Astonishing chap!" says Ernest, "Is he always that..um...abrupt?" "He's been like that since I can remember," Tommy answers.

[The Abiliegh]

OOC: moved everything here

http://brassgoggles.co.uk/forum/index.php/topic,31226.0.html

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Bumping this excellent story to make sure it stays alive!!!
sidebar: Hello, everyone. I am still alive. 

[MWBailey]

Howdy, Sgt. Major! Long time no see. I and a few others have an RP in Portrayal now, The Log of the HMAS Marigold. Check it out if'n you want!

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Bumpitty bump bump. Finally got a printer...'near half printed out and I ran low on ink.
Cheerio. T.E.T.

[MWBailey]

The bump, screech, and shriek of a Chrono-Jumper Pocket Devuice's ravelling field rors through the sub aether between on e post and the next, makingfor an alternate time in the retrofuturistic continuum, out amongst the planets of a Terran system in which steam-driven aetherships ply the void and cartry their crews and cargoes to detsinations scarcely dreamt of by their 19th-century forebears. Wendell Brantley heaves a heavy sigh, and then slips away again on the screeching stormwinds of time...

[Prof Marvel]

Bumpitty bump bump. Finally got a printer...'near half printed out and I ran low on ink.
Cheerio. T.E.T.

Another Bump for the Story and
to say hello to the Good Sgt Mjr.

yhs
prof marvel