The New World

[The Corsair]

-Rosie-

The pitch of her screams changed when the shockwave hit the ship. Despair had become terror and only the adrenaline flooding her system kept her bone-white knuckles attached firmly to the railing on the deck as the ship tumbled its way around the sky. She had no choice but to hope that Gebbert could bring the thing under control before it met another missile.

This left her no real time to contemplate what had just happened to her boyfriend. There was a sickening awareness that he had just detonated the bomb he had been holding on to but beyond that she had no knowledge of what happened to him.

The ship did right itself. It only actually took a few seconds for it to pull itself out of its rolling and spinning. Looking down at her knuckles now she could see they were drenched in blood and glass. The proximity of the explosion had caused the windows to blow out and a fair helping of glass had poured itself over her hands and arms while the ship lurched about. The adrenaline was beginning to give way to shock when she heard Gebbert call for her. Without feeling them release the handrail, her hands unclenched and she bolted into the cabin where Gebbert lay sprawled in a net with an ominous cylinder in his hands. She had intended to ask what he needed but now that she tried to speak she found she didn't have the ability to do so any more.

[MWBailey]

Arabella reached the end of the wire-rope tether. It did not occur to her to check to see if the MOFF unit that buoyed her mount was still working; she simply tied her belt stay to the saddle, whipped out her cutlass, stood in the cockpit (as well as she could with the stay cord in place), and slashed the cable as high up as she could reach. The cable being of metal construction, it took three or four good whacks to sever the line. The release of tension caused the longer length to whip up and clang against the side of the Demologos' hull, catching a rifleman who had leaned out to take a potshot at her in the shoulder, and knocking him out into space, away from the hull of the iron battlewagon. Her own, shorter, end whipped back at her, and knocked her back down onto the saddle. She ended up sitting there in an awkward positon, 'whumperjawed,' as her flight leader would have called it, across the saddle, and pushing the lift lever up -- to no avail. In fact, not only was she not rising, she realized after a moment, she was falling, and doing so backwards!

'Bella did not waste time trying to restart the MOFF unit, but instead used the pedal mechanism in one of the many ways it was designed to beused; in this case, as a human-powered alternative to crank out and deploy the bike's folding wings instead of the electric motors and servos that normally would have done so, if the current were still spilling over from the Moff unit. The stubby, articulated wings were not really designed for gliding, but in a moment of nearly-insane insight as the bike accellerated from sheer gravity toward the approaching ground, 'Bella realized that the building speed of the drop might be more than sufficient to force the thing to fly. As a flight school instructor had one pointed out, "You apply enough energy in the right direction and in the right way, you can make a brick fly."

And so it did, when the wings and elevation vanes finally snapped into position. Well, in truth, the bike merely spun about, 'til the front end pointed downward, and fell at a shallower angle than before, but then Bella had reason to bless herself for her habit of leaving the firebox lit, as she slammed the steam supply levers to the prop drives wide open, and the bike shot forward, levelling off barely in the nick of time, ripping the top off of a haystack and traumatizing a herd of Jersey cattle in the process as she skimmed by barely five feet above their heads, slamming the MOFF unit's startup generator into operation as she blasted forward, the sheer thrust and pull of the bike's aft and forward props yanking her mount through the air at high speed, literally forcing it to lift itself. "Shoulda used the...uuurrgghh... rocket assist," she muttered and groaned to herself as she barely managed to pull up before slamming through the roof of a farmhouse...

[Crickity]

Kyle Watson dashed up a fallen wall and used its slope to leap across a fast ditch the bombings had carved out of a road. Before the attacks, he was the fastest courier in New York, and that wasn't just a tagline he had on his office door. He felt a pang of longing for his office. He was a one man operation, so he had leased a small room on the third floor of an office block. From there, after receiving a job, he could either leave through the street exit and run the gauntlet of New York traffic, or he could use the fire escape and dash across the rooftops. Among all of his friends, none older than nineteen, he was the only one doing well enough to run his own business. Now, however, the entire building he had worked in was a depressingly short stack of broken cement and twisted steel.

People still needed a courier though.

Presently, he was ferrying a sheaf of missing person posters and a few cartons of pills from one of the Hudson survivor shelters to another, just down river. He wasn't charging anybody any money, he didn't feel that would be right. When he had heard the explosions, he had rushed to the fire escape to look, and it had probably saved his life. The crew at the shelter had said they'd found him in a hollow next to the collapsed building, and they certainly hadn't asked him for any payment when he woke up. So now, he ran. It was all he knew how to do, apart from fight and flirt, and nobody seemed to need those. He leaped through a shattered window and up a flight of stairs that now led to open air. From there, he sprinted down a hallway and used the run-up to propel himself over an alleyway and into a neighboring building. The staircase in this one was very similar; a single flight upwards, and then sky. He slowed to a jog when he reached its apex.
The remnants of New York lay beneath him, and it tore at his heart.

[Ella, Aerial Musketeer]

Ela had been kneeling by the mans side for what felt like hours. her knees were stiff and sore her back felt like it would be forever in the curved position. Ela looked up the sun had moved and almost set. she needed to move now and fast who knew what kind of people would be lurking on this night. She stood up and looked at the man what was she gona do with him now?

[Crickity]

Kyle saw what he had thought was a piece of rubble suddenly stand up, and realised it was a woman. He scanned the area ahead of him for a decent way down and mentally charted a course.
"Hey down there!" he cried, waving his arm, "Are you alright?"
He was pretty sure she responded, but he couldn't hear her.
"Stay there!" he called, "I'm coming down!"
With a hop and a skip he vaulted the edge of the building and slid down a collapsed pylon. At the end of this, he sprung from the first floor to the ground with the aid of a reasonably intact lamp post. He composed himself and walked towards the woman, just now noticing she was standing over an unconscious man.
"What happened?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

[The Corsair]

-Scratch-

Vacouver was not always a nice city. Residences like the Halstats' looked to betray that truth but it made it no less true. They had payed for some security at the Sky Docks, though in their rush and considering the time of day they had made do with a group of 'a few dollars to guard your ship, sir?' boys.

Arriving at the Vancouver docks proved once more to Scratch that his home did not guarantee him any hospitality. The teenage guard boys had left their posts and were unfindable. Also in the 'unfindable' category were many of the ship's valuables. Gebbert's aetheric receivers, which had been adopted by the military, were missing from each ship, any valuables not in their safes were stolen and all but Cliff's ship had had their propellers removed in a rough and clumsy fashion. Their chances of getting back to New York to help in the recovery grew slimmer still when they found Cliff's ship was missing fuel lines, obviously they had been cut in preparation for an engine theft. An engine theft they must have inadvertently prevented by arriving...

After swearing and Dutch Courage, Arch spoke. It seemed he was ready to re-assume some of his previous duties as unofficial leader.
"Find the f***ers and take back our parts or find a cargo hauler that can take us somewhere else?"
Each had its difficulties. Each man had made up his mind really, they just stayed silent in case any of them thought of some other option.
"I say teach the rapscallions a lesson. But from your facial expression I'm guessing you don't hold the same view Cliff." announced Scratch, bolder than he usually felt.
"I can repair mine on board any cargo ship large enough to hold her. I don't need or want a detour." he responded coolly.
"I just want to go..." muttered Tommy, earning him a reassuing pat on the back from Arch, who also added some finality to the discussion with his own response.
"I don't know how those things of Gebbert's work but I'm sure we don't want them getting anywhere near someone who does. I'll stick around and track down the kids with Scratch. You two can go I'd you want, we should be back soon after you."
Ah, Arch was ready to lead again.

[MWBailey]

Following Fergus' orders, the crew brough the Raptor about and began the running attack on the Demlogos, every one intent upon sinking the tenacious super-dreadnought. Not only racing forward, but also dropping almost like a rock, the maneuver was like an Emergency Descent at Flank Speed while delivering multiple salvos at a withering rate; in a dime novel, it wold have read as thrilling derring-do, but in practice, it was a nerve-wracking toll on the Bridge crew, especially whoever was at the helm, since both the gatlings and the one- and two-pounder cannons delivered recoil lurches that made it difficult to keep in trim and on course. Improvements made to the repurposed aerial paddy wagon's weaponry proved to be a problematic addition in this case.

"I thought Gebbert an' them said the guns had gyroscopic levelling or whatever he called it," griped Ephraim Gnomon, the acting Fire Control officer.

"Yeah, well, the guns do, but the ship doesn't," First Officer Ishmael said.

"Stop yer complainin' an' keep at 'em!" Fergus snapped. He grabbed the tube to the Hold, hit the buzzer, and when someone answered, he said, "Have Chief Monty get those barrel bombs ready--!" He cut off as the Demologios, which had been sort of of wallowing along in the air like a wounded whale, suddenly blew a huge gout of flame and pitch-black smoke from the remains of her funnel and then simply dashed off into the near distance, belching nearly-visible gouts of air from her stern propulsion ducts -- for all the world like a fancy Lady lifting her skirts and running pell-mell after a departing train! She seemed to slow, turned several degrees to starboard, and then dashed off again, northward.

"KEEP AFTER 'EM!" Fergus roared "I DINNA CARE'F TH' ENGINES BLOW! WE GOTS'TER CATCH THAT VILLAIN!"

In the end, however, all they could do was watch their would-be prey slip away into the gathering dusk.

"Try an' raise that leftenant Jiroux, Number one," Fergus said gruffly a few minutes later, "An' see'f she can outrun that monster tae New York, maybe warn the folks up there o' whats comin' their way..."

[Ella, Aerial Musketeer]

Ela had heard faint words. she cocked her head to one side and heard a scrambling above and to one side of her. She did not turn. she heard her fathers voice in her head. “your hearing is one of your best assets you can use it to find an enemy in almost any condition. You can use it to over hear peoples conversations and it will keep you safe.” she smiled at the memory of him “locate you enemy but do not react to them unless you need to. calm you self and prepare for what will come.” Ela flicked her left wrist and a small dagger slid in to her hand.


"What happened?” the man asked. Ela turned around and looked the man up and down. This man was no enemy she could tell by the look in his eyes he wanted to help. She flicked her wrist and the blade slid back in to its place with i tiny but audible click. Ela winced at the sound of it.

“i dont know i just found him here” Ela drooped her head and rubbed her eyes “ dont know what to do i have been standing here for hours i cant move him by my self” Ela looked at the man  “please” tears filled her eyes. “help me"

[Crickity]

Kyle saw tears begin to sting her eyes, so he quickly offered a solution. He hated to see strong women cry, it made him feel patriarchal and sexist. A psychiatrist friend had once mentioned something about his parents relationship, but he'd never suffered for it, so he paid it no heed.
"I'm on my way to a survivor shelter," he said, feeling the man's neck, "He doesn't look that heavy. Here, help me lift him."
They struggled with the limp figure for a few moments, until Kyle had him over his shoulder.
"I've got him," he said at last, "can you grab my bag?"
As an afterthought he added;
"I'm Kyle Watson by the way."

[Thebeastyness]

Axel had spent a while tracking down Falko and doing somethings that he wasn't proud of Axel not only knew the name of the ship Falko was last seen on but also where it was likely to be and where it was headed. It all fit in with Axel's philosophy, every man has his price. Axel was flying towards what he thought was the ship that Falko was last seen on, thanks to his newest inventions a stealthy steam powered device with shadowy black wings. He looked closer and there it was... The Harlequin's Wife. Axel flew to the rear of the airship and crawled to the side. There he saw a middle aged man who looked like an intellectual. Axel had to make a decision. This had to be quick. Axel retracted his claws and leapt up and grabbed the middle aged man with his free hand and violently jerked him over the side of the airship. Axel was holding on to the ship with his claw and the man with his hand. The man was about to scream when Axel half barked half whispered "So help me god make as much as a squeal and I swear I will drop you!"
The man looked at the ground below and knew immediately it wasn't worth it. "Now" Axel continued "I am going to ask you a few questions and for every question you don't answer I'm going to let go with one of my fingers. Are we understood?" Axel asked.

The man whimpered then looked at the ground and then back at Axel. Axel could only imagine how he appeared to this man. The angel of death, a dark shadowy figure. Axel knew his wings weren't helping him look any less intimidating. But that was what he wanted. The man still hadn't answered him. Axel let his forefinger slide. "We're understood, we're understood!" the intellectual replied.
"Good" Axel grinned "Now, where's Falko?" Axel growled.
"He's dead" the man replied
"Dead?" Axel threw the man back on deck then climbed up himself. Axel sped towards the man and held his razor-sharp claws up to the mans throat "What do you mean dead?" he whispered
"I mean dead, gone, kablooey, he has ceased to be"
"What killed him?" Axel asked
"He rode a bomb"
"Why the hell would he do that"
"To save people"
Axel couldn't believe it, the man who Axel thought was invincible took his own life. That poor son of a b***h. Then again this man could just be lying to protect Falko. Axel had to be sure. Axel rushed towards the man a flung him over the side of the ship and flew him up into the air till he was very very high. "What are you doing?" the man nervously asked
Then Axel dropped him. The man looked at Axel in horror. "Oops" Axel calmly said
The man was plummeting to Earth and Axel flew until he was right beside him. The man was screaming and flailing like a wild animal that had just been caged. "Are you going to tell me the truth?" Axel calmly asked
"HELP ME!" The man screamed
"I will when you tell me the truth" Axel muttered
"HE'S DEAD FOR CHRIST SAKES, THE BOMB KILLED HIM NOW HELP ME" the man yelled now only a few hundred feet from the ground
"Hmmm" Axel pretended to think "Ok"
Axel grabbed the man and flew him till he was back on the ship. He was on the verge of having a heart attack and was panting so heavily that he wouldn't look out of place at a marathon.
"If I find out you're lying then next time I won't catch you"
"Who the hell are you?" the man growled
"Me? I'm Axel"
With that Axel flew off into the night, disappearing against the darkness around him. As he flew he heard a woman come out to the man and say "Gebbert? What happened?"
Well Gebbert thought Axel it looks like you've just been had.
And with that Axel flew on knowing that he was now free of Mr Smiths control. 

[Augustus Longeye]

It took twenty minutes more for them to reach the Carrier, and they didn't see any sign of the rest of their crew for another ten minutes. Julius left a squad looking out for them, whilst he took the other to find an entrance to the ship.
By the time the rest of the group arrived, Julius had returned.
"Right Julius!" the captain exclaimed to him, "We've found bugger all in this mess. You?" Julius shook his head. "Okay then, how do we get in?"
"Well it's landed fairly squarely... no holes around the edge, we need to go over." they all looked up, it was very tall. Possibly thirty metres of iron plating.
"Right, I'll go get the Skimmers then!" the captain said, turning about.
"Don't bother..." Julius told him, then faced the balloon and flicked his wrist. A simple line of stairs rose out of the ground and reached the top of the ship, about three metres wide and some fifty long, reaching off behind a pile of debris. The crew murmured uneasily, but after Barum thumped the side and him, the captain, the first-mate and Julius began walking, they joined in so as not to lose face.
The ship itself was deathly quiet. The impact alone would have killed everyone, and there were fire spreading quickly through the prow.
"Right everyone, search fast. Group one bottom deck, two second and so on. Julius, you join me in the rear decks, everyone search for twenty minutes at most, meet back here and we'll be off. If any group doesn't return by then we won't be able to wait."
The groups quickly formed up, checked weaponry and moved off. Julius and the captain moved to the back of the ship and found what looked like the captain's quarters. The door was very ornate, and the furnishings inside must have been very fine before the impact. As it was, the bookcase had fallen over and flung paper all over the room. This turned out to be useful though, as behind it was a safe.
"There! Go get the locksmith!" the captain started, before pausing, "unless you can do something?" he asked Julius.
"Metal isn't really my domain... if only my friends were here... well, hold on!" he pulled out a stone from his pocked, and it flattened into a thin sheet. He slid it into the door beside the lock, the ends curved back to hold it in place, and he front curved to form a small plate about ten centimetres from the safe door. "Stand back..." he cautioned, and hit the plate. The rock compacted, there was a snap, and the safe door swung lose.
They all crowded round it, peering inside. There were various currencies inside, and some jewels and gold... but more importantly there were two thick leather-bound books. The first turned out to be the logs for the voyage, the first-mate commandeered them and began leafing through, joyfully exclaiming when he found some charts and codes. The second made them all stop and stare. They were blueprints. Dozens of them, neatly folded and carefully wrapped in oilskins, then bound in a leather book.
"We need to get these to Gebbert, he'll have fun with them. Lord, look at them all! There are plans here for ships far bigger than we've ever built! And some of these weapons are nastily inventive! Wait..." Julius yanked out a sheet and opened it against the wall. They all looked on in horror. It was a massive ship, the sole purpose to carry thousands and thousands of gallons of oil. There were nozzles along the front, and tiny pilot lights along it. The whole thing was designed to fly over an area, and burn everything to the ground in a wash of flames. The cooling system was truly amazing, it would draw all the excess heat away and power the lifting engines... but the ship was a nightmare. Down in the corner were the details, a thousand men aboard, a sustained burn of nearly an hour... Julius looked up with grim determination, "They're being built in the South American Dockyards. We'll pass through Texas, pick up or offer any support we can, then continue on through to the Docks. Then we'll destroy everything there."
A grim determination settled over the group, and Julius began folding up the blueprints. There was silence, aside from the rustle of the paper, until a shot rang out. The captain's eyes widened, and he toppled over, clutching his stomach. The rest of the group ducked down, and took cover behind the walls. Julius couldn't see anything, so their opponent was off the ground. The rest of the crew were leaning round the door, taking shots as they could, but their foe kept them pinned behind the door.
Barum pulled out a pistol and cocked it, stood and took a breath. "One shot.", he spun out from behind the wall, pointed and fired, continuing to spin back behind cover. There was a muffled thump from outside, and the firing ceased. One of the crewmen poked his head out from behind the door-frame, and then stood. "Dead sir, not pretty either."
Nobody paid him any attention, everyone going to the captain as soon as it was safe. He wasn't doing well. The bullet had gone right through his stomach, and even if they could move him he would bleed out before they could get him to a medic.
"Julius" he coughed, "You take this damned fleet and you make sure those freaks lose, you hear me?" Julius mutely nodded. "Good. Take my sword, give it to my son. He's a fine lad you know, he'll go fa-" he coughed once more, and his eyes glazed over. Julius gently shut them, and together with the crew lifted him out, and onto the deck.
The rest of the groups had run onto the deck at the gunshots, and all quickly fell silent when they say the body. They took him down the make-shift stairs to the ground, and slowly carried him back to the balloons. They decided that they couldn't take him with them, and Julius dug out a grave for him, deep in the rock. Julius unclipped his sword, and they lowered him gently down, and the earth closed over him. A wooden cross was made from the wreckage, and his name carved into it. They boarded the balloons, and in solemn silence left.
Once aboard the ships, the news quickly spread and a gloom fell over them. They lost a lot of men in one day, and it was hitting the hard.
Julius went to the captain's quarters, and rested his sword on the table. The books were locked up in the safe, they'd be examined over the course of the voyage. They still had a lot of ground to cover, and a new-found urgency to it. With heavy hearts they pulled away, the fleet moving back into shape.

[Crickity]

The man across his shoulders began to slip, so Kyle hoisted him higher and found a better grip. With a reluctant grimace he thought about the stack of business cards that still lined his pocket;
No package too big, no package too small!
He wondered what he would have charged for hauling a man across the city, before it was bombed. Certainly not a rooftop job, he mused. The girl had been silent since they had set off, and he had respected her discretion enough to avoid asking a name. However, the silence was getting to him and his passenger wasn't exactly grand company.
"So, are you staying at a shelter?" he inquired brightly. That was another thing he guessed he was good at. Being bright on a battlefield.

[MWBailey]

Demologos, somewhere over Northern Virginia
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Captain Hildebrandt intoned over the Upper Decks Address loudspeakers, "We are now in full strategic withdrawal. As well, we have sustained significant damage. I don't know what those people, whoever they really were, threw at us, but it's knocked out three of the main MOFF units. If it were not for strategic redundancy and spare parts, we would be unable to rise higher than a few yards, and our speed would be laughable. As it is, Engineering's herculean efforts have almost completely restored our lofting and propulsion to optimum." An enthusiastic cheer rang out from the upper decks.

"However, we still have grievous damage to armor, trim, and helm; All hands are to participate in damage control and repair of systems and armor. In addition, we will be pursuing an indirect, though high-speed, course toward Canada and our allies repair and reprovisioning docks. I would like nothing better than to simply streak ballistically to our destination, but presently, our stopgap repairs are more important than absolute speed. Let us work together, survive, and prosper!"

Hildebrandt released the loudhailer key and said to the helmsman, "Take her up to twelve-thirty, and heading..." he checked the charts, and made a few calculations. "North-by-northeast." He set the compass down on the chart, and read off the desired heading. "Continue on course for two hours; call for me thirty minutes before the end of the hour."

" 'round to sixty-seven oh nine, aye, current speed twenty knots. Rising to twelve twenty, twenty-five, twelve thousand thirty, helm alarm set for oh one thirty, sir, aye." The helmsman answered, setting the course, dialling an increase in general MOFF output and then stabilizing it, then setting the reminder alarm (a small clockwork  device built for the purpose into the Helm console).

"Good. Number one, you and lieutenant Bronson," Hildebrandt nodded to the marine lieutenant in charge of the day's security details, "will accompany me on an officer's tour."

Raptor/Bella
Yes, Raptor, this is Jiroux." Bella answered the hail on the Aetheradio. Just what does that lunatic privateer want now? She wondered to herself as she waited for Raptor to respond.

"Lieutenant, Cap'n O'Flaherty--!," the First Officer broke off when Fergus glared at him; apparently the Irishman still wasn't sure he liked being called 'Captain.' "He wants to know if you think you might be able to push your 'bike to beat that black monster to New York; NYC's been hit pretty hard by the enemy, and although some of our folks are bound to be on hand, they won't be expecting such a big problem to hit 'em so soon, over"

"If I can find coal oil and enough water to fill my tanks, I should be able to do that," 'Bella answered, "'Though I'm not at all sure If I'm going to be within my duty as an officer of the Commonwealth by dong so."

"You'll be alright as long as you quit wasting time and HURRY UP," A new voice, seemingly female (though hard as nails and clearly more than a bit ticked off) sounded over the air then, "The Demologos is a major threat to the whole country, or whatever's left after those Black Fleet bastards ripped everything up. It'd be a damned shame if New York fell for good just because we waffled around down here, wouldn't it, Miss Arabella-the-Harridan-Jiroux?"

"Colonel Franks? You're Alive? Uh, I mean, Yes ma'am! Right away Ma'am!" The sound of a familiar voice of command, not to mention the leader of the Courier Corps and a longtime acquaintance, caused 'Bella to lose her composure for a few seconds, but discipline caused her to snap back quickly.

"Good Girl," Franks replied, somewhat wryly. "Ground Spotters make you about twelve clicks downside and  west of what we take to be the Raptor, which is right above what's left of Norfolk and the military barracks. Both of you, Jiroux and Raptor, proceed to the Marshalling Yards across the harbor at Newport News, Northward of your position. You'll see a column of green smoke; head for that; a patrol blimp will guide you from there. Cap'n O'Flaherty? I'll meet you at the dock and we can debrief each other, and what's left of our Chain of Command are dying to talk to you as well, over..."

[The Corsair]

-Skarssen-

He loved the determination of all the specials. The ragtag immigrants that had saved New York. He didn't trust them though, not in the least. He didn't expect them to turn around and betray the survivors, he did expect them to get into trouble. As far as trouble went they were all the best possible people for getting out of it but they were bound to hit more trouble than they could manage at some point.
The earth-loving bloke, Julius, had left with a chunk of soldiers so Skarssen had no fears for him and his safety. He feared for the Irish one, Fergus, a little, though the man did have some military experience and wasn't totally alone. Falko, the Dutch one, was a worry. He had flown off to possibly the most dangerous of places they knew of with nothing but his girlfriend and an old tinkerer on board. It was plain dangerous and the last thing he needed was the man who had led the defence of New York going down because he didn't have the manpower to support himself.
Two Corvettes, the Roxanne and the Jennifer, had been sent to follow. They were special, these Corvettes. The had a basic paint scheme to keep them difficult to spot so long as they were above or below you and you were confused already. They also had an experimental device, the Obscuration Aid, which everyone called a Stealth Box. It made them undetectable by any electronic means and made the light around them bend and whirl in strange ways to eliminate a solid outline. Even in broad daylight with the naked eye they were undetectable.
Whatever fringe experiments had been going on along the Eastern Seaboard were now Skarssen's to play with.

-Francis-

"Captain Scoledario, we need your clearance to remove visual obscuration. If there's a time to help it's now! Spotters say they saw a man in the epicentre of that explosion, there's only two men aboard that ship."
Francis Scoledario loved the Roxanne. She was big, beautiful and damned clever with all her tricks tucked away on board. He had known her since she was a blueprint. Her sister ship, the Jennifer had been placed under the command of Walter Fitch, the only other soldier who had known of the experimental Corvettes. He didn't know what was going through Walter's mind right now but going through his own mind were all the curses he knew. Quite plainly, he was no captain.
"Captain?"
"Yes, clearance granted once we reach a range of 200 metres from the engagement."
"That's awfully close, sir."
"Well, we are... using the element of surprise. We don't know what weapons are on that other ship so the faster we can fire a broadside at it the more chance we have of never having to find out."
It was such a slowly delivered explanation, like a mediocre actor on opening night trying to remember the next word before he said it. He could have said nothing more than "There isn't time to question orders."
His radio boy used the aetheradio device on board to pass on the order to Captain Fitch. Though he was by no means below Scoledario and did not take orders from him it was paramount that the two were coordinated. They were friendly enough that it wouldn't be seen as an insult by Fitch.
Soon, the invisible twins would share the secret of their existence.

[MWBailey]

Outer Banks
The Commonwealth Of Virginia Air Ship (COVAS) Ulysses,  A relatively small patrol aircruiser zeppelin, her crew having overheard the Aethered commotion, was inbound at flank speed from long-distance patrol out over International waters, beyond the 12-mile limit. She had in fact been in Mid-Atlantic when news of the Demologos' defection and rampage had first reached her; her crew had been pouring on fuel and maximizing the ratio between steam conservation and maintaining Flank speed, and had pulled in all Aetheradio masts and dipoles, lowered the jackstaff, and closed and battened down everything that could be made fast, to streamline the hull for the fast trip. As they neared the coast of Delaware, her commander Captain James Thornwald ordered the gunports opened and all 20 casemates run out (she was not a new ship, but she was fast and well-armed for her class, and even armored slightly).

Spotters in the dorsal cockpits had for nearly an hour been sighting a dark, sharklike form trailing smoke and the occasional large spark heading seaward at high speed and at a northwestern angle to their own course. Such an occurrence was not unusual; many of the newer war vessels deployed on the Eastern coast had similar looks, but this craft was moving at an unprecedented, even alarming speed. In fact, according to everything that Thornwald and his subordinates knew about airships dictated that the speed displayed was impossible -- yet, there stood, or rather streaked ominously along at a blistering pace, the physical proof that they were mistaken! The craft literally punched through even large rainclouds as if they were the cottony lumps of fluff that they often appeared to be to casual skygazers. Early on, The Ulysses' spotters reported several figures clinging to the outer skin of the craft, incredibly effecting repairs (or at least appearing to do so) despite what had to be hurricane-force-like winds tearing past the hurtling hulk -- but prior to putting on a burst of evenhigher speed, perhaps having due to the vessel's having sighted the Ulysses, the figures had disappeared, presumably into the black-hulled monstrosity.
 
There was only one craft that Thornwald could conceive of being able to reach and maintain such a breakneck pace. He accordingly gave the order to change course to intercept what was obviously the Demologos, and stand astride her apparent intended course. It would prove to be a fateful order indeed.

"AS Demologos, this is Captain Thornwald of the COVAS Ulysses. You a4re ordered herwith to heave to and allow a boarding party access to you vessel. Failure to comply will result in your vessel's immediate destruction," Thornwald called out into the handset, marvelling at his calm in doing so.There was no response. Thornwald had not expected one; it was merely a formality anyway. Duty dictated his attempt to apprehend the miscreants -- whether his or his crew's lives would be forfeit or not. He immediately switched to the fire control loudhailer, and ordered Rapid Fire, "til the guns melt or we shoot that bastard down!" Thornwald and his men thus kept up a blistering rate of fire, the shots caroming off of and shattering against the Demologos' hull as it rushed closer, closer...

Thornwald looked at the bars of the bridge helm port of the Demologos; for a split second, even at that distance, before the armored hatchcover irised shut, he saw a vignette of determined and grim faces -- and realized that the Ulysses was about to die. "Hold fast and keep firing, men!" He yelled through the loudhailer as he drew his service revolver and fired through the port viewport in one fluid motion, just before the Demologos' forward ram slammed into and through the hull of the Ulysses...

[Ella, Aerial Musketeer]

Ela trudged thru the city the man, Kyle, walked beside her the the unknown man on his back. They had walked in silence for some time "So, are you staying at a shelter?” he asked her brightly. She jumped at the sound. “ o i- im so sorry im not very good company when im um thinking." "im Ela Fairnot and im not staying anywhere... i mean i was then that got blown up and life went to hell”. She motioned to the wings on her back. “I need parts for these they are an old set god knows whats wrong with them.....do you know were we are going?"

[MWBailey]

Arabella: Above the West Virginia-Delaware Border
A Cold Front from above the Arctic Circle had swept down through Canada and the Northern US the night before, and made it as far as Upper Delaware when 'Bella set out. The gust front loomed gigantic ahead, as Bella debated whether to aim high and over into the rare air of the high cloudplains between the thunderheads, or to try and weather the rain and freezing sleet that was bound to lurk beneath the dark clouds at the bottom of the formation. Both were cold options. She was glad that she had thought to borrow a stormtrooper's furred parka and a facemask to warm what her goggles and flight cap failed to cover. The boiler and burner were welcome as well; it was promising to be a long, very cold flight to New York.

As she corkscrew-ascended the airbike into the upper air and began the still-somewhat-treacherous threading between the thunderheads,  she glimpsed far off to the northeast a flickering light and seemingly a floating cloud of cordite and wreckage smoke. She pulled her spyglass from her pocket (it was tied to her by a lanyard, as were most of her holsterable or pocketable items), and risked several glances at the sight, which tuned out to apparently be an airship of the zeppelin variety. She dismissed it with a shrug, though it seemed to her afterward that the scene had not seemed quite right for some reason. Still, she gunned the throttle, and once she had cleared the thunderheads of the front, shot off in the general direction of New York City.

I hope I make it, she thought earnestly to herself.

DemologosII, off of Atlantic City[/i]
It had proven to be an arduous undertaking, but they had managed it. Hildebrandt looked out of the now-unsealed portholes of the Demologos' bridge at the framework remains from the Ulysses zeppelin. Soon, canvas dropcloths, castoff rags and clothing, and the experimental airsails would be sewn into place, giving the battlewagon the appearance of a tramp zeppelin returning to New York Airharbor after an extended overseas voyage. A stroke of luck had been the salvaging of the corvette's electric engines, for which power had been supplied by a generator patched in with her original steam powerplant. They had been reinstalled, for the most part in their original stations, and hooked up to the drawoff feed lines from Demologos' MOFF units. Repairs to the actual Demologos' armor and systems continued apace as well; Hildebrand was justifiably proud of his crew.

"SIR!" his First officer called out. "Lone airbike flying due North, about five clicks inland."

"Have they seen us?" Hildebrandt asked sharply.

"apparently not, Sir, they're weaving between the thunderheads. I doubt they've had a spare moment to notice us."

"Very well, carry on, Number one." Hildebrandt said, with a confidence he wasn't entirely sure that he really felt. Those COV couriers were an unsettlingly sharp-eyed bunch.

A short time later, the now-disguised Demologos, her false envelope painted with the well-lettered shipname AS Clara Stuyvesant, augered North-by-slightly-Northwest, aiming generally for the township of Edison, just South of NYC...

[Crickity]

Kyle slowed down for a moment to hoist the man a little higher again before he spoke.
"Yeah, there's a big shelter at Rally Point Hudson. Lots of airships and people, so they sort of act as a hub for the other shelters," he paused, having to scramble over a pile of rubble, "somebody might have parts for your uh... are those wings?!"
He took his first good look at the contraption Ela was carrying.
"Those are incredible... did you make them?"

[Ella, Aerial Musketeer]

"Well i dont know were i am anymore so im hoping you can lead the way. I was at a shelter before i had taken a man there called Hugo." "These wings are not mine i found then someplace tho my dad used to make and fix things like these.” Ela looked down at her hands and quietly wiped the tears from her eyes. “Every thing he knows i know so when i get proper tools and can find out whats wrong with i i hope i can fix it.” She smiled a small bit “the first time i made wings they blew up i lost me second pair when the fighting started” Ela looked at her gloves and then at Kyle. “do you need some help carrying him?"

[MWBailey]

'Bella was cold. Far colder than she had so far been during her time in the Courier Corps; More precisely, her fundament and torso were relatively warm, being kept that way by the radiant heat from both the boiler and firebox, and the MOFF Unit ginning away beneath the seat. -- but her legs and feet, and her arms, though, were quite a bit colder, and she blessed the Fueling Officer's reminder to wear her gloves and cover her face, and the loan of a wool-and-and-silk-blend scarf. "Let yer hands or yer feet go bare, and ye'll be cold to the bone the whole trip," the officer had advised her. "Be smart and cover all bare skin, or ye'll be sure ta lose it ta frostbite."

She realized the older fellow was right; her Parka, and in fact every surface of her person and her bike that was exposed to the wind of her passage was encrusted with rime ice, and she kept having to rub her goggles free of ice and frost. The facemask channeled warm breath up to the inside of the goggles, so the inside surface didn't ice up, but the rime insistently clung to the outside of both mask and goggles. She kept wiping and rubbing them clean, and bent down behind the airbike's circular windscreen to minimize exposure She became concerned about the time she was taking then, and reached down and flipped several switches and dialed a rheostat  to shunt  more excess power from the superconducting MOFF unit to drive the props even faster, causing the bike to surge forward, nearly making her rear end leave the saddle.  

Thank God for the windfairing, She thought, or The slipstream'd yank me right off of the saddle, saddlestraps or no... Finally, in the dawn, the sky cleared enough for her to see, far below, the smoking remains of what had to be New York; the cold front had spared her a view of the devastation of the District of Columbia, But somehow this was far worse. She angled over and rotated out the paddlewings, extending their sliding sections to the full wingspan, applied the flaps, pulled in the canards, and sideslipped, riding on the aerodynamics of the paddle wings as she dialed down the MOFF unit and soared down toward one of several large aerial warships moored next to what looked like the remains of the docks of an aerodrome. Her cold left hand tried the radio, but no discernible traffic was evident, even after she forced her nearly-numb lips to enunciate a hail. It was obvious that someone on board that and the other airships moored nearby was watching her, however, as the muzzles of the ships' guns were tracking her with frightening precision. She 'hmpfed' into her mask and reached for the spotlight/signal pistol, and squeezed off a Morse message with numb fingers,

COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA COURIER 31-7 LIEUTENANT ARABELLA JIROUX STOP

INBOUND WITH URGENT BATTLE AND TACTICAL INFORMATION FROM A.S. RAPTOR AND CAPTAIN FERGUS O'FLAHERTY STOP
 REGARDING HEAVY DREADNOUGHT C.O.V.A.S. DEMOLOGOS II HEADING YOUR WAY STOP URGENT  REPEAT VERY URGENT MESSAGE PLEASE RESPOND STOP

[Crickity]

"I'm fine with him, but if you could take my bag that would be swell," he shuffled his burden around until she could slide it off his arm, "we're about twenty minutes walk from the Hudson shelter, but with our silent companion here it might take a little longer."

They trudged through the rubble, which remained devoid of life until they got within a few minutes of the shelter, when people in twos and threes began to dot the landscape. At last they came across an intact building with all of its doors open, a hand painted sign above them reading "HUDSON SHELTER". It was an uplifting sight, as were the smiling faces that accepted the sunken-eyed refugees as they stumbled in for warmth and food. Kyle saw Ella fidget with the wings as she looked up at the airships circling slowly overhead. He could understand the desire to fly; he had often dreamed of basing his courier business in an airship, and moving his office where ever he did so please.
"Come on then," he said, nudging her gently, "let's see if they can do anything for this chap."
He winced and adjusted the man yet again.
"I don't think he needs much feeding, that's for sure."

[Ella, Aerial Musketeer]

"ah im sorry i should have offered” Ela took his bag with and hung it on her sholder were it would not hit the wings. graduly they started to see people agin, in twos and threes. soon they came to an intact building with i sign that proclaimed "HUDSON SHELTER” Ela looked up at the sky and looked at the airships flying over head. her hand moved toward her wings and she started pulling at one of wings. Ela jumped when Kyle nudged her "Come on then," he said, "let's see if they can do anything for this chap.” Ela watched for a moment as Kyle adjusted the man agin "I don't think he needs much feeding, that's for sure.” he said Ela giggled for what felt like the first time in a long time.”I think this may be were Hugo is” and they walked in to the shelter

[The Corsair]

-Nigel-

"O'Flaherty! That's one of the specials innit cap'n?"
"Aye ensign..." drifted the response that would not have existed had it not been automatic.
The Demologos? He was plain scared frankly. He didn't know every ship but he knew that one wasn't standard by any measure. COVAS? The hell did that stand for? Who was meant to know about these things? With states and cities under independent control all manner of secret technologies and experimental ships had been found and pressed into service so suddenly men like Garrow were well out of their depth despite years of military service.
He ordered his radio boy to alert Skarssen, who he figure may also have some knowledge about the Demologos, but was also aware that he'd be unlikely to receive anything in return before any engagement started.
He had the Caroline though, and that had something fancy on it he knew. What it was he wasn't allowed to know, despite being essentially in command of it, but it was reassuring to know he had some sort of trick up his sleeve.
What do I know about the Demologos II then? he thought as background noise faded to nothing in his mind. It's alone, so it's powerful enough to not need to be in a fleet. We had to be warned, so it's already caused destruction. We got an advance warning, so something is faster than it but probably only by merit of small size. How do we engage it?

VIRGINIA COURIER 31-7 LIEUTENANT ARABELLA JIROUX PLEASE BOARD STOP
MOVE IMMEDIATELY TO BRIDGE STOP

At least patrol duty wasn't boring.

[Crickity]

"I think this may be where Hugo is," said Ella. Kyle made to respond but once they were inside it wasn't long before a volunteer descended on them and asked what they were in need of.
"I'm fine, she's tired, and this man hasn't been conscious for the better part of a day," said Kyle, and together he and the volunteer rolled the limp figure onto a gurney, which was trundled away out of sight.
"I guess we'll check on him later," said Kyle, retaking his bag with a thanks, "So, who's Hugo?"

[MWBailey]

The Caroline seemed, as far as 'Bella was concerned, to be the standard pre-Black Fleet Dreadnouht zeppelin, so she sideslipped to port and swung down and under the comparatively huge ship's keel (Bigger than the Raptor, at least), and then slowed and puttered along toward the stern toward the keel Hold Door, which opened as she approached. She stopped beneath the opening, and then manipulated the Lofting lever, and rose up vertically into the hold, unclipped the trapeze hook from in back of the airbike's saddle, and hooked it to one of teh several empty mooring hooks that hung from the ceiling overhead. She climbed the ladder that was lowered to her from the catwalk above, and when she alighted there, opened her coat and adjusted the Dispatch case, and made sure all of her weapon and kit lanyards hung in the proper manner, and  then followed the orderly to the bridge, which was gloriously heated compared to the air she'd been flying in..

"Lieutenant Arabella Jiroux reporting as requested, Captain." She said, forcing her still-cold-numbed lips to form the words.