Steam and Sand 2: Anthracite Days - Game Thread

[Stella Gaslight]

"Ah you are well traveled.  I go to mainly the smaller towns.  People from my home are not always welcome because of trade and color.  I tend to stay to the wilds and only go to the cities when needed but perhaps this trip is lucky.  I have not been bothered at all so far perhaps it is a sign that our trip will be fruitful.  But to tell the truth I am on the journey for journeying sake."  Miri found some small cakes in the cabinets and set a few on the table. "Do you thirst for adventure as well?"

[MWBailey]

"Well..." Percy began, not at all sure any more that Cornwall's Commonwealth University had just let him go to be rid of a round peg in a square hole. It did seem extremely odd, now that he thought about it, that Jenkins bloody Millsbury, Dean of Engineering (even being, true to form, the battleaxe that Millsbury was notorious for being) had let him get away so easily-- and there had been that red-coated fellow around the Admin building the week before. Not to mention the huge severance deal of the sort that supposedly was rare even in the days before the Event, and all sorts of asides about 'Flyin' Machines, what would ye give ta be buildin' on one again, Percy, eh?'

And come to think of it, it would be a masterpiece of manipulation and subterfuge that His Majesty of Anglia would find irresistibly tempting -- to pay, bribe, threaten Warfare, and otherwise cadge Percy out of Commonwealth and back into Oxford... and the loop of the Great Dirigible Folly Program

His mind added the popular jibe about the 'Folly of Air Power' and the various writings and popular outcries against what most of the ground-bound public considered to be Anglia's King Richard's greatest waste of time. Never mind that the thing was already half-built, albeit without a skin to cover its cobbled-together newly-forged frame, or that it actually did already 'fly,' or rather, float above the construction/static testing site, albeit sans engines of any sort. It was reputed, these days, to already regularly block out the sun over West Oxford Atrium, as if in a daily show of strength and wealth.

"I'm beginnin' to think you may be right, Harris. Though if Richard the Mad Lion of London did machinate me out of Cornwall, it just might be one of his most ambitious games yet... Save for the Dirigible Foll-- er, Project, that is."

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

By now the day has worn on and the afternoon has set in, with evening threatening. The charts, however, mark the position to be very close to their goal for tonight of Sherwood Atrium. Indeed, beyond the crags and cliffs the terrain flattens out - in the distance can be seen the distinct green hue of the Atrium twinkling in the setting sun. An estimate of the time shows only about an hour to cross the plain and reach their destination - with the hold up with the raiders, however, nightfall should occour only about half an hour after that.

Suddenly, loud clamourous sounds float over the expanse. To the east, an indeterminate length of distance and time away, there appears to be some sort of collection of vehicles - some of which appear to be burning. The pops of gunfire can be heard as well. At this distance it is too far to tell who is in conflict, or why.

[MWBailey]

Percy would not have noticed the sounds of the faraway conflict, had not a rather large tank-rig blown up at about the same moment that he looked through the navigator's periscope. He had trained it eastward, in order to see just how fast the edge of darkness (if any) was approaching, and he saw the massive main explosion and the secondary explosions that followed both within and outside of the huge hulk; it looked as if the boiler had burst and the firebox gotten split open or somehow had its contents scattered within, and ignited the ammunition. He recalled that on some of the early command-level rigs, the vulnerability to such an outcome had been a major flaw in their design.

"Lets not go too fast, Harris," he said, "we don't want to attract those fellows' attention." He  then added, "But lets speed up some, all the same. I'd hate for us to have to knock on the Atrium door at 'Dark-Thirty' and beg for admittance, what with that firefight going on out there on the plain."

[Stella Gaslight]

Miri was watching out a porthole very intensely at the battle.  If she had dared, she would have climbed up to the observation deck but her head still stung from the blow earlier.  She turned back an looked at their well secured guest.  "Perhaps it is a good thing we ran in to you.  I do not know how our dear child of Airavata would have fared in all that and at least this way you know you you are safe and sound with us."  He shuddered at the cheeriness of her tone.  "I do wish you would stop that, I mean I have proven to be a very reasonable woman."  He just looked at her like she was quite mad and she went back to watching the battle. "Man is the only one that fights like this.  Beasts are quick one perhaps two strikes and you are either the victor or dead.  Man brings an entirely new dimension to the art of war don't you think?"  Gene did not answer he only hoped that they would reach the Atrium soon and he would be taken far from this maniac.  The battle was moving slightly closer now as some seemed to be trying to escape to the Atrium.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Speeding by, it appears that the battle has calmed down. On close inspection, the group of vehicles appears to be rather colourful and ornate, though most of them are scarred by bullets or fire. A group of armed men approach them, dragging both people and belongings out roughly and tossing them to the sand.

With the burst of speed ordered by Percy, the rig reaches Sherwood before the darkness hits. The guard to the vehicle parking adjacent to the Atrium pulls open the gate to let them in.

"Good thing you came in time." drawls the scruffy man. "Wouldn'ta let you in any later. Security and all, ye know? I mean, look out there - damn Gypsies causing more trouble. Can't say they ain't getting what they deserve. Thieves, the lot o' them Travelers. Looks like some dissatisfied customers getting back, eh? What'ya have to pay? We take Mercian Shillings or Lancashire Gold Pieces 'ere. No Southern coin."

[MWBailey]

"We just happen to have been paid recently in Mercian Shillings, no less! What a splendid coincidence, what?" Percy said, as if it were an absolutely serendipitous occurrence. He was acting, to his own mind, like the quintessential 'Dotty Old Academic On Holiday,' the better to allay any suspicions the guards might have, his mind casting back to the fact that they had one gypsy on board. I wonder if he'd be willing to lie low, so we don't get kicked out untimely, Van Scagg thought. He haggled with the gatekeeper for a moment, taking his old brass abacus out of his coat pocket and 'counting the beads about,' getting down from the spotters hatch and comparing with the guard's counting rack.

"Well..." He said while he and the others dug in their pockets and (as a result paid only a few coins each) chipped in for the entrance fee, "in regard to that business out on the plain, I'd hate to be them, in any case. There's Bandit trouble all 'round, seems like." He added, in an outraged voice, "We were jumped in a 'slot gully' in the ridge above Long Bend early today, and 'ad a runnin' battle with 'em after we returned to the road.

"The shortcut gained us time, and I think saved us from a worse run-in on The Bend itself; At least one, maybe two, old tanks down at The Bend, I saw through m' spyglass. Even so, there were a horde of motor bandits on 'bikes in a cave up in the Slot, and an old blown-out hulk with an engine still in it trying to block the Slot's exit. We just barely made it out; as it was, the pursuit ran into the blocking tank and blew it up tryin' to get after us."

"We took one fellow prisoner in the end, tryin' ta climb on; Our Miss Miri's been watchin' him, poor devil," Percy chuckled, winking at Miri, and added, "He babbled something about a 'Cavemen' gang, and them havin' got intel from Bromwich'am, where we set out." Percy asked, "Is there a Knight in attendance? Fellow will need a little medical attention, though all joking aside, I think Miri's taken good care of such while he was with us."

"Oh! And we're s'posed to refuel and restock as per this letter,"  Van Scagg showed the guard Their Benefactor's documentation letters, with its information and other particulars.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

The guard yawns as he looks over the letter, nodding along with Percy's rambling, looking disinterested.

"S'pose you could toss the blighter over to the Knights. They have a lodge 'ere, on the central circle." he said, shrugging. "Ifn he's just a bandit as you say, might as well just snatch anything of worth and toss 'im outside. Doubt 'e 'as anything of importance to say. Sounds like a looney as is. Anyhoo, this letter don't concern me. Sherwood is a nice Atrium, with plenty of lodgings and food. The open market'll be closed this late though. Opens early tomorrow if you want some fresh victuals. I'm just militia so I'm not going to read you the 'ole law and such. Just don't cause trouble and whatnot. Now if you excuse me, my shift is ending."

With that the guard opened the gate to the Atrium, letting them pass through before closing it and sauntering off to the nearest public house.

[ScytheKnight]

Although Harris wanted nothing more then to curl up in a bed and sleep there was still a lot that could be done tonight. After the group enter the Atrium proper Harris catches Rimfire's eye and nods before quietly slipping away from the group moving towards the seedier part of town. With some luck he could find out a little information before hiring a room where he could work on his gear before catching a few hours sleep.

'I haven't had short sleep like this since my last mercenary hire for that damn "conflict" down south' Harris mused sourly 'But I'm starting to get the impression that that was a walk in the park compared to what's coming up.' Noticing that he'd reached the outskirts of one of the worst districts in town Harris stopped his musing, even someone of his skills doesn't want to be caught off guard in a place like this at this hour.

[MWBailey]

Percy nodded to Harris, leaned in close and said, Godspeed, and get back safely."

He turned to the others and suggested they get what effects they might feel they needed, and that they should head into the atrium to turn in their prisoner, and then find something to eat, as per their benefactor's suggestion. "There used to be this absolutely smashing little restaurant in the inner circle," he said, "they had the best broiled and fried meats and a lot more, includin' fresh fruit and whole roasted ears of corn this big," he spread his hands to show the size. "That was ten years or more ago, but a place like that tends to stay around, if you know what I mean."  

He made sure to gather up the Maxim and load the blunderbuss. When the others caught him at loading the huge-bored muzzle-loading gun, he shrugged and winked, saying, "you never know. Best to be ready." He stopped, thought for a few seconds, and then got serious and added, hopefully not too severely, "We're near the borders with Lancashire and York here, my friends. Those two've been at each other's throats since time immemorial, some say even just after the Event, some before. Sherwood and its surrounds used to be a sort of neutral territory for both sides; unfortunately, it also has always been near enough to both for odd, even weird things to 'appen at night out in the countryside. So let's be careful, eh?"

"Now, one of us needs to stay 'ere with the rig and stand guard and supervise the loaders while the rest go off to eat and such. I'll do that, but one or both of you come back and spell me so I can go eat, OK?  Other than that, I have nothing much else to say. We're all equal here as far as I'm concerned, so I can't order anybody to do anything, really, but...hmm... Oh, yeah. I'd suggest we or at least a couple of us sleep aboard tonight and save our cash for contingencies. This bein' a border town, the prices for supplies might be dearer than elsewhere. Didnt used to be, but like I said, its been ten years since I was here last."

"C'mon, you," He said to Gene as he hauled the fellow to his feet, and the others made ready to depart. "If it was me, I'd keep a gun on 'im always 'til he's safe with the Knights."

As the others departed, Percy opened the bay doors for the re-coaling crew, then leaned against the rear doorframe, the maxim propped within easy reach in the corner by the door, and watched as the work progressed.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

As with most Atriums, the seedier districts are further to the outside of the circle, being lit by only gas-lamps, or not at all, at this time of night. The inner circle of Sherwood is another matter, moonlight reflecting in through the glass dome on well-swept and maintained streets ringing the central gardens and farmlands, most noticeably the fruit and nut-bearing trees Sherwood is famous for. On the inner circle many more reputable establishments for food and drink are still open, including the restaurant Percy mentioned. There is also a well-kept building front marked with the flag of Mercia, the blue field with the gold cross, noting a headquarters for the Knights. Many of the men enjoying themselves are likely Knights, getting the most out of an assignment in Sherwood before they are rotated to a less pleasant locale.

----

In the seedier part of town, Harris sees little activity, overtly at least. A squadron of Knights patrol by, staring at him warily but moving on. Once they have passed, some noises can be heard again in the alleys and behind the broken windows. The lights go back on in one establishment and talking can be heard again. A door opens and a woman in a ragged corset (and little else) leans in the doorway. Beyond can be seen a shadowy room with various illicit activities going on. The woman smiles at Harris behind a mass of makeup.

"'Ello, luv." she croons. "In from the wastes? Need a bit o' a fun time? Don't worry - the ol' 'igh and mighty Knights won't see you. We keep a low profile, if'n you know what I mean."

 

[ScytheKnight]

Harris pauses to look into the building, the tired whore he had no interest in, who knows if he would walk out of there with anything, including his life. But dens such as this can be useful for gathering information with people normally closed mouthed under the effects of various substances. Of course they can also be a hotbed for bloody brawls and ambushes, but if he wanted to find out the truth of anything going on he was going to have to take some risks.

With the decision made Harris gives the whore a tight, sharp smile that doesn't touch the dangerous light in his eyes "Sure, it's been a tough day. Could use something to get the dust out of my throat and the smell of blood out of my nose, just make sure you keep your hands to yourself hmm?" When the whore takes a startled step back Harris walks boldly passed her, every nerve strung tight ready to explode into any necessary action...

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

The whore watches him with cautious interest as he enters.

"Hmm, yer a cold one, aren't ye?" she comments wryly, looking around outside before closing the door behind him. "Thas alright - can't expect all things that come in out of the desert to be men." she says in a slightly taunting voice. The patrons of the place look him over for a moment, before returning their focus to their various preferred vices.

"Can I at least get you something to drink?" asks his hostess. "Or are ye a teetotaler too? In that case ye' may have come to the wrong place to have a bit o' a good time. The ale 'ere is cheap on accounta we make it ourselves. Hops cost enough as is, even 'ere."

[MWBailey]

As the coaling crew loaded the fuel for the next leg of the trip, the resident mechanics and techs walked around and in one case at least , crawled down under the vehicle. There was just enough clearance between the ground and the underbelly of their travelling metal behemoth for a man to lay flat, with a very tight airspace between his face and the underside if he didn't try to turn on his side or twist up. Far from being completely smooth, however, like most armored vehicles there were voids and 'hang-downs' (but none deep or large enough to hide anyone stealing a ride).

In one of the voids, the tech who had crawled under found something somewhat novel. When she emerged from under the rig, she approached Percy at the back door of the vehicle and said, "Well, she's all shipshape all over, guv, but for a few dings where I reckon it was them bandits you mentioned got in a couple o' hits." She paused and pulled a huge-caliber revolver from one of the voluminous pockets of her coveralls, and handed it butt-first to Percy. "A multi-shot flare gun, I Reckon," she said. "She were wedged up be'ind the clinker box bulge, she was, no cracks there, by the way, but there she were, stuck up in that void be'ind the 'angdown. Reckon one o' yer bandits dropped it an' it bounced up in there. Oughta check that kinda thing from toime ter toime, guv, never know what ye'll foind.  

Percy thanked the man and checked the pistol over, as the woman and her workmates went back to work. No real damage, apparently, and it was made so massively that any purpose other than flare launching or light artillery work would be ludicrous. There were three shells in it, and two empty chambers. He broke it open (with some difficulty due to slight scoring and denting from being bounced around under the tank), and extracted the shells and looked at them individually. On all three there was stamped on the mouth of the cartridge just at the rim where cartridge met warhead, "WARNING: INCENDIARY PAYLOAD." So, this was a flare revolver, but had been used as handheld artillery, a sort of one-handed cannon or small incendiary grenade gun. He pocketed the erstwhile flare-gun-turned cannon, and resolved to find some ammo for it in the morning if possible.

He went back inside, into the armory and retrieved five rocket tubes, brought them to the rear door, stacked them, then went back and got five rocket missiles and loaded them into the tubes, being careful to not attach the firing wire, to avoid accidents. He then stacked them back up in a different, empty, rocket-rack in the armory room, and pulled six more rockets and took them outside and around to the front of the vehicle, loading them into the tubes permanently mounted on the front of the machine's carapace. He then went back to the rear of the machine and watched as the coaling crew piled basketfull after basketfull into the autocoaler bunkers.

It looked as if they might be at it all night, judging by the size of the bunkers and the amount of coal in each basket. Three men came out of the engine compartment then, and set their huge bucketload of clinker, cleaned from the aforementioned box, on the floor next to the rear storage bays, and attached the hook from the mechanics bay's mobile crane to the main bale of the huge container, and the crane lifted the bucketful of still-incandescent clinker out of the tank and over to the large ash-dump area where several eager families and individuals (all of them bearing the bodily signs and scars of hardscrabble poverty) waited to pick it over for live coals.

[Stella Gaslight]

Miri had never been to Sherwood before. Home had stores about the world copied from books that were too precious a treasure to be let out in the light anymore.  Miri had heard all about the famous Robbin Hood and his adventures in Sherwood Forrest. looking at the buildings and trees around them she wondered if they had been real people or perhaps dreams of what the people wanted. Keeping one eye on the bound Gene she took in the town. After their business was done it would be time to wander.

It would not all be fun and games Miri knew there were some obligations she had been shirking.  She started looking for the healer's mark on the many doors they passed.  There were places for healers in almost every Atrium, doors marked in red that never closed to those in need.  She would put on the arm band that marked her as one of them and see if the locals needed any of her herbs or knowledge.  There were no true rules governing them but when one was a healer out in the wide world that red stripe on the white stood for something and if word got around someone was abusing that well, the world could be a very cold place. 

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Not too far from the restaurant and bar there was one door clearly marked with the sign of the healers. It was a white, unassuming building, looking rather modest in comparison to some of the more imposing buildings. It has large windows as well to allow the filtered moonlight to further refract inside for any patients. As opposed to other buildings it was also very quiet, seeming to exude and aura of peacefulness.

Meanwhile, a pair of knights in the traditional dark armour of the Knights of Mercia approached them from the lodge, noting the bound prisoner. One of them looked at Miri and her obvious foreignness with slight suspicion but the other nodded at her respectfully.

"Evening ma'am. I don't wish to assume anything, so may I ask as to why you have that... er... gent tied up there?"

[Stella Gaslight]

Miri smiled "Aaah this creeping mouse was caught trying to rob our dear child of Airavata." She gestured back to where the rig was parked.  "I was told by the professor that we could reap some small reward for giving him over to you."  She removed most of the bindings from Gene to hand him over and checked on his wrist.  It looked to be healing well and that made her glad.  Gene was looking at her and wondering if bellowing that she was mad would help or hurt him.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

The Knight looks them both over.

"Hmm, he does look the rather suspect type. What proof do you have of this? Here, take him to the Lodge with us and you can make an official statement."

The two knights lead Miri and her prisoner into the impressive building. The front room is sparely furnished, with a few bored looking clerks at desks. The knight leads her over to one, the clerk sitting up straighter and dipping his pen in a bottle of ink.

"Alright ma'am." says the knight. "Relate the circumstances of this arrest as succinctly as you can."

[Stella Gaslight]

"We were leaving Bromwicham when bandits sprung on us.  I was recovering from a fall of rocks on the roof when he comes creeping and puts his arms around me."  Miri gave Gene a frown then.  "I warned him and patched him up after he chose not to take the warning.  See he is healing up nicely.  After the fish was caught I had no idea what to do with it but the Professor said to bring him to justice so here we are."  It had all in all rather fun and Miri wondered what the next step would be. 

"She is off her nut."  Gene muttered

[ScytheKnight]

Harris relaxes a fraction when no ambush awaited him inside the door. Ignoring the whores barbs he takes another good look around the room, a den for sure, but not a hell hole. This was just the sort of place where he might find something, if he was very careful. Getting sloppy in a place like this would be a good way to wind up buried in the nearest cesspool.

Harris' eyes flick over the whore's face as she mentions the ale, she didn't seem overly eager that he try the ale, a sure sign of trouble that, so he figured he'd best try to blend in. "Sure, that is unless you have an actual drink not last night's dish water." With that he took a seat a couple of tables over from a largish group of toughs, most of them drinking but a cautious snuff told him at least one was smoking something other then tobacco. One seated Harris digs out a cigarette of his own and lights it, looking for all the world like a bored mercenary while listening intently to the conversation around him.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

The knight conversing with Miri nodded. Unfortunately for Gene, he did look like a bandit and a rather scruffy one at that as well. The knight listened to his rambling rebuttal with a look of bored condescension. The other, gruffer knight then started to go over Gene's clothing, roughly looking through it and drawing off strange odds and ends that appeared to be simple tokens. The clerk examined them and nodded.

"Bandit group markings." he murmured, nodding. He looked up slightly sleepily.

"Noting what we can learn from stories and... character, it is almost certain this man is part of the Bermesgreve Riggers, a notorious union of thieves and bandits. Regardless, I'd say we could lock him up just on being a shady scoundrel. He will be put in custody until further interrogation."

The clerk then stood up and went through a door. A few moments later he returned with a pouch, which audibly clinked.

"Here is the reward - fifty Mercian Shillings. Further testimony is not required, unless you wish to make any more statements..."

As he handed over the reward, the larger knights dragged away a struggling Gene. The other, younger, more handsome knight gave him a small, sarcastic salute.

"Good work on getting that one." he said, holding the door open for Miri with a charming smile. "Glad to see that not all people are afraid of every sandy wretch in from the wastes. They're tough until they find something they can't intimidate. You must be very... indomitable. Say, I don't think I caught your name, now did I? I am Sir Belden. Andrew Belden."

-------

The whore sets down a large tankard on his table. The brew is strong, but not too offensive to the tongue. The whore stares at him for a moment.

"Just don't think o' leavin' without payin'. As you can imagine we don't bring the arses in armour in for our problems... we deal personally." She winked at him before moving off to serve another table.

The conversation around Harris is mostly hushed. A good deal of it seems to be about dealings and people only familiar to locals of the shady sort. There is a brief conversation about the firefight near the city - most seem to chalk it up to Gypsies causing trouble. One man moves into this conversation, a large hulk of a man with a scraggly beard and a balding head.

"Aye, twas the blasted Travelers." he rumbles. "And twas me an me boys which gave 'em what they deserved. Damned dirt-chewers sold me a load of faulty rig equipment. I was just... collecting on debt."

"Pshaw" laughs a man opposite him. "The way you run rigs they're broken the moment you lay a finger on 'em."

The larger man narrows his eyes. "I'd watch yer tongue or you'll end up like they did. The damned Knights came out before we could finish 'em off though." The man suddenly becomes quieter, as if lost in thought. He glances around the room, sizing everyone up. His eyes then fall on Harris. He moves over to his table, looking over at him.

"Oi, mate." he says in a low voice. "What're you? Mercenary? Do ye mind gettin' yer hands dirty... for the right price?"

[Stella Gaslight]

Miri was pleasantly surprised by the bag.  It would make for a good dinner out on the town tonight.  "Thank you for the compliment.  Fear doesn't suit the hunter or healer don't you think?"  She smiled brightly at Andrew " I am Mrs. Mirium Sengupta pleased to meet you.  I was wondering if there was a healing house near."  She pulled the arm band from her pocket.  "I have been too long gone from my fellows I think."

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Sir Beldon smiled and pointed to a white, quiet building. "There is the main house of healing here. I am sure they will need help - they run night and day. Misfortune will hit anyone any time of the day..."

He stretched, his armour clinking slightly.

"Well, that name and your bearing do seem rather exotic." he comments. "Out of the norm, at least. It's interesting. Would you care to have dinner with me? My shift is done now. You can invite your friends too. I see you eyeing that particular restaurant - I have a brother working there and I could get us a table faster and cheaper."

[Stella Gaslight]

"I come from Home and that is a long way from here but every place I go to has a little of it inside."  Miri was speechless for a moment and touched the ring inside her shirt gently then smiled.  "Yes I would love to join you for dinner.  If we stop by my Airavata imagine the invite will sound just as delicious to my friends."

[MWBailey]

Percy checked his watch, an old, clunky Anglian Army silver turnip of the type that Richard had made the standard military marque the year of the Battersea/Chelsea rebellion; the silver plating made it look twice as big as it really was in any kind of light, but Percy had kept it, as it was the only watch he had ever found, before or since, that kept as good of time and absorbed punishment so well. Various dings and scratches marred its surface, and the Van Scagg coat of arms (His Mad majesty had insisted on it, he gave them to all of his commanders that year) showed brass at the apex of each of it's raised bas relief figures. The scratched crystal still clearly showed the time when Percy popped it open after fishing it out of his waistcoat pocket. Miri, Pitivo and Harris had been gone for nearly two hours. Harris could reasonably be expected to take care of himself, and to be very late getting back in; Percy knew from personal experience how long such 'fact-gathering' trips could take. He just hoped Harris came back in one piece.

Miri and Pitivo, now... Pitivo could attract undue attention because of his dress and mannerisms. They practically screamed, 'GYPSY!' in foot-tall letters, and after that business out on the plain, the locals might be jumpy. Not that the fellow looked like a 'Roma' in the face all that much. Not for the first time, Percy found himself wondering just how Pitivo had come to be associated with the Travellers. And that name... Percy was no linguist, and had traveled with the Roma who happened by Oxford (and later Cornwall Commonwealth University), but few times, and he couldnt be absolutely sure, but didnt 'Pitivo' refer to somebody of a contentious nature? Or, was it somebody who was always fighting...? I guess thats why he's a boxer, the professor mused to himself. Well, Pitivo could take care of himself as well, Percy decided.

Miri, now...the woman often seemed to be half in a daydream; obviously she was more than capable of defending herself, but Percy worried that she or Pitivo might reveal his or Harris' identities inadvertently. He himself was probably no longer on any 'wanted' lists, but enough people had heard of him and the slaughter at Battersea nearly fifteen years before for there to be memories of a warrant having once been attached to his name, and there was the rumor of his death that kept cropping up from time to time; apparently somebody from the exploratory detachment had seen his rig fall off of that cliff on the way to Avebury all those years ago, and assumed he had been aboard, and then left the column and gone on to tell tales. He still ran into the odd Bravo who was astonished that such an old codger had so much fight left in him, only to find out that it was the Professor whom everyone had thought was supposed to be dead. Sometimes I almost wish I was dead, just to save 'em the embarrassment, he thought. "Almost, but not quite; I'm not ready to give up the ghost for a long while yet," he grumbled with a chuckle.

He checked his watch again, and then began to lock the various exterior hatches of the rig, leaving the rear bay open for the coalers,  in preparation for going out to look for his companions. He was a veteran, true, but he did not relish the thought of having to go and get that engine all on his own. He climbed up into the second-level deck and walked around to the cupola ladder and hatchway to lock off the turret...