H.M.A.S Badger ~ Online Æther Ship ~ Member's Wanted

[MWBailey]

"Lordy," said Jack,  in between whistling the verses of the old banjo tune Dandy Jim From Caroline as they navigated the twisty inner ways of the Lygos, more like dim cavernous tunnels than arboreal swamps. "this is darker than than the Black Bayou back home!"

"Black Bayou! That en't in Texas, Jack,"  Bailey interjected, "how d'you know about the Black Bayou?"

"Born thar, Jus' after they declared Louisiana an empire in itself, when France disowned 'em 'cause they didnt have any goldfields! Damnedest empire I ever saw, weren't nothin' but territories in a strip from Lake Ontario down through the Delta. But you already know all o' tha-!" He paused, realizing, once again, that this was an incarnation of Bailey who had not been killed in a mid-revolution battle in Texas in the 1830s, and that he did not know all about Dreyfuss' Uncle Caractacus or the Neo Caledonii Colony.

"Sorry, MW, " he said, I'm still forgettin' about that, seems like."

"That's alright Jack, sometimes I forget too."

Oh, round and around we go,
Best lookin' feller inth' country, oh,
Looked inda mirror an' ah found it so!
Jes' lahk muh Mama Tol' me, oh!

They were flying without the travelling field on, but the trees were getting close, and Jack was thining about turning it back on just in case, especially after seeing that colony of monkey-like creatures about three miles back. just like Rhesus monkeys they seemed (a shipmate, from before he was assigned to the Beauhad had one, and knew what it was called), but these were much larger, almost like a chimpanzee in size, and they had huge, curved-dagger-like opposable claws where their opposable thumbs would have been,which scared Jack for the sake of the envelope of the airship, even though it no longer used gas to stay aloft.

He slowed , and flicked on the first-level field, several limbs being snicked off when it came on. Just in time, too, for at that moment something bumped the ship's bubble from underneatch, sending it crackling up into the overstory; looking down, jack could see what looked like an impossibly-long and large eight-legged crocodile sinuously wriggling away between the mangrove boles into the deeper darkness of the arboreal caverns...

They finally reached a place where half-sunken clanging-bell marker buoys denoted that here was some kind of human-built domain, albeit overgrown and barely-discernible through the massive growth of trees and vegetation. sunlight burned downward in several places here, signifying that somewhere above was a break in the near-constant leafy cover. They phased around through the heavy vegetation surrounding and anchored to the rock, looking for a way in, up, or around that didnt involve the field, but found none. Jack then switched to full third-level travelspace, and scanned teh rock for any voids of rooms or hangars, and fiound one almost directly in front of them, which appeared, in the Scan Tank, to be completely deserted.

"Well, he said, here we go..." And they phased through the rock, steel, and near-solid vegetation and into a gigantic, echoing space, which looked, when Jack switched the searchlights and running lamps on, and they returned to first-level travelspace, as if it contained every broken or disused machine ever brought to the surface of Venus. There was a vast empty space in the middle of the room, and  Jack set down there, leaving the first-level field up, adn then , after a few minutes, scores upon scores of tiny, silvery dots began to line the darekness around them. Jack swept the forward searchlight around , revealing hundreds of tiny ratlike animals. Jack shuddered and hurriedly threw the ship into third level, and upward, toward a much-smaller room (according to the energy picture) they headed. Mingh reflected, amusedly, that she had not sen a single rat aboard Jack's airship, nor did it smell as if it had housed any for several decades...

[Alexis Voltaire]

The room above was just large enough for the Beau Rosin to fit inside, and besides a few ancient wood boards and broken crates, it was empty. The room was carved directly into the rock, roughly finished but expertly made. There were two doors, a large double-trapdoor in the floor, maybe ten feet across, and another in the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. Both looked like blast doors, and the room, from what they could guess when the light shone on one of the old empty crates marked 'explosive', had been used to store the mine's blasting components.

A careful search revealed no rats, or any other signs of life, and it looked as though the room had been undisturbed since it was emptied how-many-ever years ago. Jack set the ship down lightly and turned off the traveling fields.

The room was cool and slightly damp, and there was a slight breeze coming in from a heavily-barred and meshed grate high in the ceiling. It was apparently rodent-proof, and though Zhi-Selkio could smell them faintly in the air when he stepped out onto the deck, it was apparent that there hadn't been any in the room since it was last closed, and possibly before then.

"A very good spot," he said, looking around. "a lot safer than I had guessed we'd find. If anything could have gotten in it would have already."

[MWBailey]

A huge, lithe, furry shape tracked the route of the Beau Rosin, following swiftly behind. when teh giant Crocodile bumped the ship, Mr. Winkie poised himself to spring, then all six legs relaxed as the huge reptile disappeared into the maze of mangrove boles and root tangles. Mr. Winkie continued to follow until the ship, Donnavan, and the rest of Donnavan's people disappeared. Yowling in frustrated longing for his master, Mr. Winkie finally climbed to the top of the rock and stretched out in the cloudy sunlight at the top of the topmost tree, catching a sunbath until Donnavan might reappear...  

[Dr. malcolm moriarty]

Dr. Malcolm Moriarty, returned to his office grateful that any danger of anything remotely interesting or exciting would be happing to the crew of The Mad Badger had passed. He sat motionless for several hours at his desk before plunging on ahead with his duties.
 
He was working on reordering the file system before the vile threat of adventure had reared its ugly head and returned to the task. It was shocking how the last ships Doctor had let the file system slip into total chaos. Moriarty was still struggling with the confusion that had resulted when he found that the crewmen O’Rourke J. W. ‘s file had been placed in front of O’Neil, A.T. ’s.

After several hours of work Moriarty had gotten to the section of the files were the crewmembers who last names begin with “Q” was kept. The fact that sixty percent of the crew members on the ship had names that began with “Q” made this a daunting task. The Doctor had considered asking Captain Grey to send someone with knowledge of filing systems to help him but decided not to. The last thing that Moriarty wanted was some no it all file clerk trying to do things his way.

Moriarty was by this time feeling hungry thankfully on his way to his office he had stopped at the ships galley and had a steward fix him a cheese sandwich to take to his office with him. Taking the tray to his desk Moriarty was going to attempt to do two things at the same time and eat his cheese sandwich and continuing work on his files. Then to Moriarty’s horror as he took a bite he realized, that the steward who made his sandwich had put mayonnaise on the bread! Moriarty was livid, he remembered he had made a point of telling the steward that he did not want mayonnaise. Moriarty had a long history of hating mayonnaise even as a child.
 
To make things worse as he dropped his sandwich in disgust the sandwich fell open and landed in his lap!
Mayonnaise! All over his best pants, now what? That would never come out! His pants were ruined.
Even if he sent them to the ships laundry the stain would never come out. These pants were part of a suit, what was he going to do now? Just toss a perfectly good suit coat and vest in the trash?

In any case he could not just sit around in soiled pants. What if someone came in to the sick bay? He had no pants hear, Moriarty would have to go back to his cabin and change before continuing his work. With a sigh Dr. Moriarty got to his feet and left his office. What more could happen to him today was anyone’s guess.
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter two
 
Dr. Malcolm Moriarty is trapped in his cabin because the ships laundry failed to deliver his laundry back to his cabin on time.

For Dr. Malcolm Moriarty time had come to a stand still. Peeking out his door for the hundredth time he still saw no sigh of relief. What could be taking them so long? How long would he be forced to wait? These questions haunted the Doctor day and night as he walked back and forth in his cabin, in his underwear with his shirt tails hanging out. He could not go out without pants after all.

As he closed his eyes Moriarty imagined himself walking down the passage way without pants. The pointing, the laughter, the ridicule. No, he would stay in his cabin, after all it had only been two days how much longer could it take?
 
Moriarty rested on his bunk looking up at the bulkhead, he imagined the files on his desk in disarray. Then the shelves with the packets of bandages, medical tape and cotton balls. He had planned on bringing order the shelf system next. All that was now out of reach.

The walls of his cabin were covered in small tiles. To occupy him self Moriarty started counting the tiles. He moved the small desk to count the tiles behind it. His cot was bolted to the floor so he had to crawl under to count the tiles under that. Twice he lost count and had to stare over. Then he started using a bit of shoe polish to mark each tile counted so the danger of counting the same tile more then once had passed.
The sink was a real problem it was covering an entire section of tiles. With a small ruler he mathematically estimated the number of tiles it obscured.

It was then that the Doctor heard the sound of someone hanging something metal on the hook on the outside of his door. Hope was kindled anew for Dr. Moriarty.

[MWBailey]

Security Lance constable Milhouse turned around and headed back to the 'midships Security Office. the squawkbox at the sergeant's desk was winking its red light, and sergeant Krinsdale picked it up. "Yessir Mister Arguild Sir!Milhouse just returned from deliverin' it. 'ow'd you know 'e was in there, sir?"

"Simple." Arguild answered, he's not been seen for more'n two days, and the maid said there be snadwich fixins all over teh desk and floor in the sick bay; he's had no laundry returned to 'is room on account o' that sump backin' up in the laundry, so it's just natural 'e'd be 'oled up inna cabin, waitin' for th' deliv'ry of 'is trousers." Poor fellow's prob'ly gone mad waitin'...

"Tha's bloody amazin', Leftenant!"

"Well, that'n I listened on th' security channel on 'is squawkbox..."

[Dr. malcolm moriarty]

The London Times, September 15, 18__
 
HEROIC FINANCIER FLEES LONDON AHEAD OF SCANDAL
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Formerly respect London financier Mr. Cornelius Nightshade is on the run from local authorities who are acting on warrants for his arrest. Mr. Nightshade has apparently cast aside past reputation and honors and been found to be consorting with no less then reputed asteroid pirate Giacomo Ruscelli of The Roma.

With Nightshades long association with the firm Lloyds of London his being caught en flagrante delicto with known pirates is extremely incriminating.  Scotland Yard in association with Lloyds of L. are conducting a detailed investigation of all Nightshades dealings over the past few years.

Impeachable sources notified authorities of Nightshades meeting with off world outlaws and a raid ensued.
In a brutal gun fight several law officers were killed as well as the now positively identified Ruscelli. Nightshade and an unknown number of associates managed to escape on a hidden shuttle.

Any one with knowledge of the whereabouts of Nightshade and….
============================================================================

“ What utter rubbish! “ Nightshade swore under his breath tossing the newspaper to the floor.
Cornelius Nightshade was fuming at life’s inequities.

It was that woman’s fault not his. She should have been more forthright with the fact that she was the mistress of a powerful man, Nightshade fumed.
If she had, Nightshade would never had, well to be honest he would still have, but he would have been more discreet. She was irresistible after all. As it turned out she was the mistress of H.R.H Prince Albert no less.

When H.R.H. found out about Nightshade, he sent his cronies to dig up dirt on him to ruin him publicly.
Worse luck yet that Nightshade happened to be having one of his rare meetings with his pirate contacts.

Nightshade shuddered at the memory of the raid and battle. It was a chancy thing that got him safely aboard the shuttle before Violent George, Ruscelli’s first officer, and The Roma’s Chief Engineer took off. The three had been on the run ever since.

The small ship had just got into orbit in time to see the two British battleships pounding away on the doomed Roma at her high orbit. With no place to go, the three headed to and  landed on the moon, outside of Moon Base Victoria. George and O’Dullie rigged the little craft to head back to earth and crash to evade pursuit.

For a week now the three had been held up in a dirty little office in a cargo bay, of one of the Roma’s former contacts on the moon base. Photos of Nightshade and of Violent George  in the papers prevented the two of them from showing themselves in public. The two had to rely on Dunnagin O’Dullie to bring in supplies and information.

George trusted his shipmate but Nightshade hated the grubby little Irishmen. O’Dullie with his all too practiced smile had the look of a true English hater to Nightshades eye. He suspected the Irishmen of being secretly clever, a dangerous thing in an Irishmen to Nightshades mind.

Nightshade and George had been waiting all afternoon for O’Dullie to return. He had been out to gather  information on what ships were coming and going at the port. He was also casting a net to see if he could recruit a few trusty lads to help George and him commandeer a ship and get back to the asteroid belt. When he did come back, Nightshade got news that made him think his luck and at last returned. First he found four good men willing to go along with whatever the final plan was. Secondly, The Mad Badger was in port.

“ The question is my hulking friend is, can you handle that ship or not?

Sullenly, Violent George looked over at Nightshade. It was times like this that George really hated that man. He always seemed to confuse George to get his way with him, like now. The fact that it was Nightshades cunning that had kept them free so far only irritated the giant former wrestler even more.

“Yes, I can pilot her once she’s aloft but that’s the hitch. She is in dock ant two people cant get her launched. YOU, wont be much help. Add to that we would have to fight our way on, no one likely to just give us,,”

“No, we wont. I have been on that ship”
Nightshade interrupted.
“I can sneak Mr. O’Dullie into the engine room.”
Turning to the Irishmen
“Can you, I don’t know, “engineer” some sort of emergence to get everyone off that ship. Or at least most of them?”
 Dunnagin O”Dullie’s grin was all the answer Nightshade needed.

“ Remember friends, the information Mr. O’Dullie brought us. The Captain of that ship has just resigned, he is gone as well as most of her officers. { even that big pain in my backside Bailey thank you very much } Most of the crew will be on station not on the ship. If we can clear the decks and take the ship. Well can be well away before anyone realizes it”
----------------

One massive slice of luck later, Nightshade was on the bridge of the Mad Badger looking back at the landing pad as a lovely young women in a pressed uniform ran around shouting orders.
Nightshade mused that it was a shame she got left behind. Still maybe not, the way Violent George and his new men came aboard shooting and killing anyone left. George had taken out all the pent up rage from the last week on the remaining crew.

After The Mad Badger had gotten away from the moon Nightshade, Violent George and Dunnagin O’Dullie met at the navigation station.

“ No sigh of pursuit yet, “ George reported “But their will be, every ship between hear and the belt will be looking for us”

“Well them, lets not be anywhere were they might look. Set our course inwards not out” Nightshade said

“Inwards? What about the belt we were going to,” O’Dullie began.

“Don’t be daft! What did being pirates get you, a death sentence and hard living. No, my fine gentlemen forget that, we have much better prospects. We will find a place for ourselves in the legitimate world wear we can enjoy life and become stinking rich.”

Nightshade settled himself down in what had been Captain Greys chair

Violent George was getting that “I hate Nightshade feeling again”
“And, just how are you going to get the British Crown to just forget what we just did. And the past for that matter.” he muttered.

Leaning back in the Captains seat Nightshade smiled.
 “I am not George, for now anyway.
We will however make ourselves indispensable to The rich and mighty German Empire.
So maintain this course, so we can make sure that all our possible pursuers will be looking for us in the belt. Then we change course. This is what we are going to do next……”

After three weeks of dodging patrols and British war ships The Mad Badger touched down at the German colony of Venusstadt in the highlands of Venus.

[MWBailey]

Arguild and the remnant of the Security force had gone into hiding aboard the Mad Badger, and as soon as the ship set down on Venus, and the Engine room was left unattended, set about rendering the Badger inoperable. They disconnected entire sections of cabling and removed the electromagnetic generators from the cavorite turbines, as well as setting up the boilers to blow in case anyone tried to fly the ship that way.

Then, they snuck around in teams of three or four and, using passageways that even regular crew were unaware of, set about setting charges and damaging countermeasures all through the ship, finally removing whole consoles from the navigation and command centers and sinking them in the ships water supply. Then, they left the ship under cover of darkness, lighting the fuses and setting the timers on the explosives on their way out.

The Badger , at about 10:00 pm that night, was suddenly engulfed in a cloud of smoke and metallic particles as the various devices detonated or set themselves off. The resulting fire gutted the Engineering and section and crew quarters, and the third munitions locker went up. Arguild turned on his uniform radio at that moment, set it to all of the available frequencies. it would drain teh batteries, but that didnt really matter any more.

[Theosophus Grey]

Oh, the humanity! 

The Hindenburg Explosion

Mr. Bailey, sound "Taps" if you please, column at attention...

[MWBailey]

Right SAH! *snaps to bladelike attention, turns to the newly- returned Leftenant Arguild* Sound taps, Leftenant!

*taps sounds, Arguild order-arms the bugle, then Bailey turns to the riflemen of the honor guard*

"Rifle Squad, LOAD

MAKE READY!"

"FIRE!"

*thunderous mass rifle discharge from five-man Rifle Squad; orders and firing sequence is repeated four times*
"SALUTE!"
"ORDER ARMS!"

"Taps and Salutes completed, SAH!" Bailey thunders.

[Theosophus Grey]

Very well, Mr. Bailey - squad at parade rest.  Send in the clowns. 

[MWBailey]

There ought to be clowns...

[Theosophus Grey]

Who knew Venus looked just like Lakehurst, New Jersey?  Or is it the other way round?  

SOMEWHERE IN LONDON...

The cadaverously thin, white-haired man with shocking green eyes suddenly clenched the arms of the massive high-backed iron chair in which he sat, breath stolen away; the dozen other elderly scions at the long, dark table took shocked attention, and moved to aid him.  Recovering his senses and waving aside their aid, the aged Grand Master of the Illuminati folded his hands under his chin, and looked upward through the high glass dome towards the night sky hanging above their sanctum sanctorum, and contemplated the flickering blue speck that he knew to be Venus.

"It was nothing..." he explained to the others; "... I felt a great disturbance, as if... as if a Lloyd's man suddenly cried out, and was silenced.  Oh, well... biscuits, anyone?"

[Matthias Pennypecker]

The San Francisco Chronicle
October 10 18__

WAR WITH BRITS LOOMS!
============================================================     
 A vile plot was unearthed that has shaken American British relations to the core. Not since 1812 has America been poised to go to war with the British Empire. Exposed was the British intent to usurp the American holdings on the planet Venus as well as long range plans to force the Americans from their foot hold on Mars.

    The German ambassador presented the Secretary of State with documents and witness accounts of the British Foreign Office plans three days ago. Most damming of all was the irrefutable evidence and testimony of a former British subject now an honored American patriot Mr. Cornelius Nightshade.

At great personal risk Mr. Nightshade smuggled the documents out of England fleeing to Venus were he contacted the German authorities. The German Governor of the colony of Venusstadt arranged to transport Mr. Nightshade to San Francisco to meet with American officials.

   The smuggled documents were carefully examined and proved genuine to the satisfaction of American authorities. When confronter with the overwhelming evidence the British ambassador cried foul and denounced the entire case as fraudulent. Then demanded the extradition of Mr. Nightshade.

    A rising call from Congress to expel the British delegation and close diplomatic relations is now being debated in the Senate. American fleets air, sea and aether are on high alert as the threat of war looms.

   Meanwhile back in San Francisco the President of the United States has honored Mr. Nightshade at a formal banquet were the President himself administered the oath of citizenship to Mr. Nightshade who had been dubbed by San Franciscans as The Sterling Silver Patriot.

   Mr. Nightshade when asked about future plans said, { while rubbing his hands together manically } that back in England he was an active import-exporter, and planed to resume that profession once he contacted his eastern colleagues.
    This reporter is sure  that The Sterling Silver Patriot, will find America “the land of opportunity“.
   
                                                                                                                       M.H. Pennypecker

[Theosophus Grey]

"A bad penny always turns up" 

Amidst the roar and clank of the Victoria graving yard, Captain Theosophus Grey attempted to shout instructions to the foreman installing the next-generation aetherscrews on the Widow's Son, her sleek aluminium frame glistening in the reflected glare of the white lunar sands.  "Take care, you dolt!  Those beauties are unique!" he snapped, waving the rolled blueprints in his left hand and the heavy walking stick in his right in emphasis.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea swept over him, accompanied by a dread chill, forcing him to sit back down at the small field desk under the flapping canopy that provided what little shade could be had out on the sands.  Wiping his brow with back of his hand, he popped the collar on his tunic to better catch a breath, and accepted a glass of water from the yeoman attending him during his recuperation.  "Are you alright, sir?" queried the young man in a thick Scots brogue, moving efficiently to the sideboard to fix the captain's afternoon tonic. 

"Fine, fine, Cameron" Grey replied; "Just felt like... well, like someone stepping on my grave, if you know what I mean."  "I do indeed, sir" continued the yeoman; "...me Gram had the sight, she did, an' she'd say you were expectin' an unwelcome visitor."

Mumbling under his breath, Grey downed the bitter tonic and returned to his work, determined to finish ahead of schedule...

[MWBailey]

Across the wide dimensions,the intrepid crew of the Time Ship Beau Rosin board the sturdy little flying scow, throw the Chonojumper Drive into motion, and head for their home dimemsion, little reckoning the fire they are jumping into from the relative safety of the frying pan...

"Consarned flyin' piece o' !@#! junk!" Jack said, as he hung up the aetherphone again. Brantley had gone off into the Wild Purple Past just before they took off, and couldn't be raised by aetherphone. "Just when I need a corroboratin' story, off he goes to play Alpaca Lips with Sally..."

"Surely, you mean 'Apocalypse,' Jack," Mingh suggested , whilst Kirza giggled in the background and Bailey guffawed.

"I know what an Alpaca looks like. Never saw anythin' called an 'Apoca.' Besides, you've all seen Sally, so..."

[Alexis Voltaire]

Dawn was coming over the horizon on Venus, the already noonday-intense sunlight filtering down through the ever present cloud cover and down to the endless green below. The remnants of fog still hovering over the jungle glowed golden as if lit from within. Though the damp, heavy atmosphere had yet to get past the timeship's fields, the slight difference in gravity was noticeable. It was a subtle but definite reminder that they were no longer on Earth.

A few of the dragons and troopers looked out of one of the ports, catching a glimpse of some huge red multi-winged creature emerge from the fog and then quickly dive below it again, chasing it's prey.

Frank tried to radio the Mad Badger, and after several unsuccessful attempts, managed to get a hold of the new Dragon Corps base on Luna. Too much had happened in the time they had been gone for those at the base to tell all of it in detail, but they were able to tell him much of what had gone on in their absence.

The news that the Mad Badger had been almost completely destroyed came as a shock and seemed almost unbelievable at first, though it was some consolation knowing it had been to prevent the enemy from using the ship and it's weapons. He only heard a small part of the recent political troubles, but it was enough to worry him more than a little.

The dragon troopers from the Khukhuri, and those from the Mad Badger that had been reassigned to other ships, under Mercourt's command, had wiped out any of the remaining Drene-Vah that they could on Venus, and several smaller groups on Mars and an atmosphere-bearing rock in the asteroid belt called Delta III.

Their work on Venus was done, for now at least, and the advance party being called back to Luna to rejoin the rest of the troopers waiting on the construction of the new ship...

[Theosophus Grey]

Grey stood on the balcony just off the Governor General's office, adjusting his smoked-glass goggles against the white glare of the lunar sands and sipping the last of his afternoon coffee, running his hand through greying hair only recently allowed to grow longish.  Handing the cup and saucer back to Cameron, he stepped inside and took up the pen offered him by the Governor's aid and, with a slight hesitation, signed the commissioning papers for the Widow's Son on behalf of the Lunar Masonic Temple.  A pity Rhys can't be here for this, Grey thought to himself as he slid the completed papers back across the desk; the ship was his conception, and his architectural skills made it possible.

Paying his respects, Grey accepted the leather tube with the Widow's charts and papers and, making his way back to the graving yard with Cameron in tow carrying his instrument case, arrived in time to catch the final stages of the turbine engines' test runup, white dust billowing in vast clouds so as to obscure the ship itself to view.  Securing his few belongings in the ship's launch at the edge of the field, Grey climbed the long stairs to the port controller's tower to receive his formal launch permissions and aetherdefense clearance codes.  As he stepped stiffly out onto the high platform, his left leg still dragging despite months of recuperation, he leaned heavily on his walking stick as he moved to the railing facing the yard.

As if on cue, the evening breeze began to roll away the dust from the graving dock, shards of reflected light sparkling from the ship's exposed hull in a cascade of white fire.

The Widow's Son was a sleek blued-steel dart sheathed in Neptunium-alloy plating, a hundred meters in the keel by a third of that in the beam, bristling with weapons blisters above and below and sporting twin aeatherscrews of an unusual new design, the latter passing from view as the ship completed the test of the atmospheric turbines by rotating slowly in place, bringing her bow-on to the controller's tower where Grey stood in quiet pride.  

Waving to the ensign on duty, visible now through the glassteel port of the flying bridge, Grey turned his gaze to the vast maw of the bow-canon as the ship turned slowly past him, the chrome-lined barrel extending into darkness within the long axis of the ship on it's way to the main engineering compartment - a Vilhaus Gun of epic proportions, integrated into the frame of the ship itself, and drawing power directly from the reactor core; Grey had christened it 'Lugh's Spear', from a childhood fondness for Irish fairy tales.

As the Widow's Son assumed stationkeeping above the launch cradle where she had been born and now awaited orders, Captain Grey inhaled deeply in the thin lunar air and, pausing a moment, hung his walking stick on the tower railing before walking stiffly down the long stairs to take up his next command...

[MWBailey]

As Captain Grey boarded his new command, the Beau Rosin completed it's last ferry job, that of bringing the Advance Party of the Dragon Corps to the Graving Yard on Luna to report aboard the Widow's Son for regular Duty. Jack left the 1st-level field up and carried a remote to switch it off so that the Beau could be boarded again after the ceremonies and reports were made.

He wore his RTAF Captain's Dress Uniform (The one dating from the 1870s back home), with its long blue greatcoat, bands on the cuffs and brushes on the shoulders, his cutlass hanging on a baldric at his left, possibles bag on his right, mauser in a shoulder holster so as not to mar teh symmetry of teh uniform. Standard RTAF black-leather-and-buckskin Airman's boots, and a very-wide-brimmed hat with cigarette rolled brim. He cut a dashing, white-moustached figure among the rest of the Party, Bailey and Frank and the other human Dragon Corps troopers in thier pith helmets and Dragon Corps blacks, Khukhuris in shoulder or hip rigs on their left, their chosen sidearms on the right in patent black leather holsters. The Dragons wore their various leather-and-gemstone harnesses, their weapons prominent.

They were piped aboard the Widow's Son, and they and Vilhaus saluted enmasse, Frank making the report for duty as commander, subordinate to Captain Grey, as befit military protocol.

"Commander Bailey, Report!"

"SAH!" Bailey, despite his rank, was still a sergeant at heart --but that didn't stop him from acting like an officer when it mattered. "Sergeants Cartwright and Korza! REPORT!"

"Sah! Customs Officer Brantley Absent With Leave! Republic of Texas AirFleet Captain John Pulsifer and his Companion Mingh Shrighk present as our guests of honor! All others present and accounted for, SAH!" Cartwrignt shouted.

"All Dragons Present and accounted for, SAH!" trumpeted Korza both mentally and vocally.

[Matthias Pennypecker]

Otto Vandenberg sat in The Sans café he had been waiting for almost an hour for Mr. Pennypecker. If he didn’t desperately need the newspaperman he would have left already. The sad truth was he did need his help.

Otto Vandenberg was the head of the Olympus Mons Observatory hear on mars. He had once been a highly respected member of the scientific community. Now, he saw the snickering and mockery of his peers when ever he encountered them. He had to redeem himself and with the help of the young journalist he just might. Three years ago he had made a discovery that put him on his way to great prominence. He had discovered a rouge asteroid out on the outer rim that had been on a collision course with Jupiter’s moon, Callisto. For most of two years he tracked the pending impact. Then, something, happened.

Vandenberg, mopped  the perspiration off his balding head. Mars was a hot place for and older man in his fifties. He still could not accept what had happened. To put a not to fine point on it the asteroid missed the moon, no impact. The miss had been by such a massive distance that he Otto Vandenberg had become a laughing stock. It should not have missed, Vandenberg knew his calculations were correct. Something strange had happened. The only way he could regain his reputation was to find out why. He had tried to get funding for a deep space expedition but with his shattered reputation it had been impossible. Now that fat Belgian bastard Henri LaFrange was organizing his own expedition. Trying to steal his discoveries. Vandenberg needed to beat the Belgian to Callisto or he would lose everything.

“Vandenberg! Sorry I am late ol’ boy the British are getting pushy when it comes to journalists, especially Americans. You would think we were already at war!” Pennypecker slid into the chair next to Vandenberg letting his satchel bag slide to the floor.

“I have been sitting hear for over an hour.” Vandenberg grumbled trying to hold his temper in check. This American, pushy and ever enthusiastic to the point of annoyance got on the stoic scientists nerves.
“Did you get a ship?”

“Ahh sorry ol’ boy no. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I offer, well the newspaper offers, to hire a ship. No one seems keen on the idea of going beyond the belt. That and when ever I so much as say the name Vandenberg all I get is laughter. Did you know you have a nickname in the press on Mars, Cantcount Vandenberg.”

Pennypecker ignored Vandenberg slamming his hand down sharply on the table in furry.
“ Still, I do have some good news, a new ship is just launching from Moon Base Victoria. If we can get that ship it just my be the ticket. I sent a message and an offer, just a matter of time before we get a reply. All we have to do is wait.”

[Theosophus Grey]

With Bailey and Vilhaus occupied with quartering the remaining Dragon Corps aboard their purpose-built mobile infantry deck adjacent to the main bays of the Widow's Son, Grey returned to the bridge to see to the launch trials.  Pausing a moment to straighten his old merchant-mariner bridge coat (a bit moth-bally, but still sharp in the seams and shiny in the buttons), he stepped through the round opening of the heavy pressure door from the main gangway and took in the hectic scene.

Technicians were just clearing their circuiting gear from the main controls, the series of polished bronze and copper panels being closed and dogged shut in turn as they passed calibrations.  The massive glass and brass hemisphere of the new aethercompass, taking up the majority of the deck aft of the ship's wheel, was spinning up it's familiar storm of fireflies as the radiograph antennae came online and began to sense the other ships in lunar orbit and nearby.  

"Morning, Theo" called the grizzled helmsman from his expected station at the wheel, knowing his use of the familiar would irritate Grey but that, now absent their military commission, the captain would grudgingly submit to the less formal rules of the merchant service he had grown up on - the aged Mr. Lemming was, after all, his third uncle and former mentor in the China Trade.  Gifting the old goat a wry smile, Grey turned to accept a radiogram from the ship's operator, the red seal a flag that privacy was indicated.  "Carry on, Miss Okana" he nodded to the young oriental woman, noting the vast collection of tools and wiring she carried about her person, ever prepared to exercise the ingenuity that had gotten her a berth on the Widow in the first place.  Stepping astern and into his new ready room, Grey slid the pocket door shut and ducked his head under the inconvenient beam Rhys had thought necessary to inconvenience him with, despite his aesthetic misgivings and head lumps.  Breaking the still-warm waxen seal with the compass, square, and level of the Masons impressed upon it, Grey held the paper under the desk lamp to better read the typewritten message from the Lunar Temple.

"BON VOYAGE AND BEST WISHES TO A FELLOW TRAVELER, STOP.  SORRY I CAN'T JOIN YOU, BUT YOU KNOW WHY, STOP. EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED, FULL STOP. RHYS."

Kind of him to remember us, considering his predicament Grey thought before turning the lampshade upward to shine through the paper rather than on it, finding the "unexpected" of the more public message as printed by the radio operator, handwriting hidden by heat-sensitive ink: "STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER."  Grey frowned as he touched the onionskin paper to the hot bulb, and watched it burn in the ashtray next to his long-extinguished pipe.  Turning to sift through the earlier batch of mail, he extracted a formal letter from a Mr. William Randolph Hearst of New York, inquiring as to the passage of a certain Mr. Pennypecker, a journalist in his employ, to cover the Widow's maiden voyage as a freetrader, "...in the renewed atmosphere of peace and business enterprise after the recent unpleasantness on Mars" etc. etc., suggesting that they made quite a story to interest his readers on Earth and elsewhere.  Picking up the brass tube next to his daydesk, Grey blew hard and called "Central! Have the ship's operator report to my ready room for a message to Mars."  Blowing again, he ordered "Bridge!  Prepare for departure, set course for Sirtis Major, we'll shakedown underway."

Returning the tube to its hook, Grey wryly contemplated that Rhys, no friend of the press, would only encourage such an arrangement for a higher purpose, certainly one in the business of the Order - particularly with Mr. Hearst being a well-known Master Mason and all...

Welcome to Chapter Six of Red Sands and Red Swords - The Inner World!

[Matthias Pennypecker]

Henri LaFrange had just finished the second half of the roasted chicken he had for lunch. The greasy remains still clinging to his piggish cheeks and chin.

Across the table from him, Captain de Rossi locked his eyes down in his own plate avoiding his new employers horrible table manners. After two weeks the refit on The Amadeus was just days from completion. Soon all would be ready for this deep apace mission. Captain de Rossi, did not know if the start of the mission was a good thing or not.

What was worse, being stuck with this arrogant Belgian on Deimos ship yards, or being stuck on The Amadeus for who knows how long with him. The money he had been paid was what had quieted him so far. He would never have been able to afford the upgrades or the new armaments. de Rossi was not sure why the Belgian insisted on them. After the Mars uprising most of the belt pirates had been cleaned out. Beyond that was nothing, so why bother.

The belch LaFrange let out singled the end of the meal and the Captains appetite.
 
“Captain, if you cannot get that load of loafing drunkards you call a crew to get that ship ready discharge them. For what I am paying you..”

“Sir,” de Rossi interrupted “ I should remind you we are in fact a week ahead of schedule we will be ready for your new launch date on time. We are loading the extra equipment you ordered even now, as well as your “associates”. I must tell you Mr. LaFrange I don’t like having mercenaries on my ship”

“Captain, I am not paying you to like it. My “associates” as you put it are my insurance of a successful mission. Now if you will excuse me, I have important matters to attend to, as do you I believe.”

 Captain de Rossi turned to rejoin his ship wishing not for the first time that he never met that fat Belgian bastard Henri LaFrange.

[MWBailey]

After the ceremony, Jack and Mingh returned to the Beau Rosin amid many goodbyes and well-wishings. As the tiny blimp-like ship rose into the air above luna, a soap-bubble-like field materialized around it, and then with a flash like a wreath of fire around its spinning aether prop, the Beau was gone from view. A distant flash, like a pinprick against Heaven, was the only indication that the ship had departed into threadspace.

In truth, only a few were watching the ship depart. Among them was a diminutive blonde, pointy-eared female who wore technician's garb, standing atop the roof of the hangar reserved for the Widow's Son. Farewell for now, Jack[/i, Sally Ingram thought to herself, I and Brantley will see you soon. She smirked, pulled a brick-like, gauge-switch-potentiometer-and-pressure-valve-studded black object from her toolbet, made several adjustments, then slapped a button, and stepped though the vertical parting of spacetime that appeared behind her. Thin air mended itself, and then there was naught but moondust blowing away from the roof of the hangar.

"Say, Bob, didja see that up there!? a blonde beauty just stepped off inda thin air!"

Oh, sure it is that I believe ye, Pete, sure as the nose on me face I believe 'at you fink you saw're it!"

"But I did, Bob, I did...."

Jack and Mingh laughed as the unwanted passengers they had found in the hold floated off into first-level threadspace, dressed in the space suits they had been wearing. apparently they had thought the cabin was the only protected part of the ship when it was Travelling.

"Where to now, Mingh? Any Ideas?"

"A few, Jack-Captain, A few..."

[Matthias Pennypecker]

Matthias H. Pennypecker returned to the rooms. The Chronicle newspaper of San Francisco held several rooms at the Regency Hotel in the center of Sirtis Major for traveling newsmen. A bit more posh then Pennypecker was used to but he had no complaints. He had lived out of this room for better then a month. So it was packed with stacks of newspapers and the remains of long forgotten meals.
 
It was the large open wood and brass control panel of the aethergraph transmitter that dominated the room. It was provided to him by the group of newspapers his work normally appears in, it was the state of the art in communication. Pennypecker can transmit his articles and have it on his editors desk back on earth in an hour! The down side was that his editors could also contact him as quickly.

The fact that the aethergraph transmitter was just over one hundred and eighty pounds and only the size a little bigger then his steamer trunk meant it was completely portable!

Pennypecker entered the room and was about to cross the room in answer to the blinking light that told him that he had messages held for him. Suddenly this hotel room door shut behind him, and when Pennypecker turned a man with a gun stood behind the door.

Pennypecker had a pistol on his writing desk his eyes darting to it seeing that the gun had been unloaded the bullets on the floor.

“ Don’t bother, If I came hear to kill you, you would already be dead. there is a bottle next to your gun fix your self a drink. We need to talk. I have questions and you are going to give me answers.”

[Alexis Voltaire]

The Dragon Corp's new quarters on board the Widow's Son consisted of many rooms arranged in two inner and outer rows around a large circular common area. Overall it was roughly the same amount of space they'd had on the Badger, and since it was better laid out there seemed to be more room.

Once the dragons and troopers had been assigned their new quarters, Frank went to his own to catch up on the news he'd missed over the past weeks. He wondered grimly as he read through the stack of recent papers if they might soon be at war with the United States, the same country those on the Beau Rosin had helped and fought beside less than a standard week ago. (Though it had been, or would be, more than thirty years in the future from now.)

He also took some time, mainly out of curiosity, to look over the blueprints of the new bow gun, something he'd seen previously only as a theoretical design that a few of the engineers that worked on the Badger's guns had drawn up.

He looked up from reading at Shi-iri's mention of hearing from the others that the ship would launch soon. The faint steady hum of the ship's engines soon grew louder, and heading to the deck's observation ports, they watched along with a few of the other troopers as the white and gray plains fell away far below and the huge cloud of white dust stirred up by the launch grew more distant until it was lost from view.

[MWBailey]

Bailey set Cartwright and Korza to work cataloging and inventorying the weaponry  kept aboard for the Dragon Corps troopers. He himself and Kirza also set about familiarizing themselves with said weaponry, after they had stowed their gear, Bailey propping the Villar Perosa HMG in the corner and racking the Kothi-Mora Khukhuri on the cabin's built-in bookshelf; he had re-hilted the Neptunium-allow khukhuri and now wore it in the shoulder rig, since it was harder than most any other steel and able to cut almost anything. He figured that, what with the kind of action that tended to almost magnetically accrete around himself, Frank, Kirza, Shi Iri, Grey and the others, it would come in handy. On his way back to his and Kirza's quarters cabin, they watched teh ship 's takeoff, waving at the tiny figures waving back from the gantries and the pad.