The Log of the HMAS Marigold: Parts I-V

[Private Weasel]

Hawthorne waited for Mary to retrieve her rifle before setting off down the corridor towards Ms Scott.

"Opera Singer?" he remarks, flicking his hardwood cane into his hands and bringing it down heavily across the temples of a still twitching adversary, "I suspect we are woefully out of date."

The pair reach Ms Scott's location and Hawthorne brings his revolver up to bear once again, drawing a bead on the augmented greenie and firing his one remaining shot. The aim is true and the bullet slams into it's toros leaving a raw, bloody hole in it's midsection.  To his dismay the creature takes the wound in it's stride and seeing that it was rapidly depleting its minions takes bold step towards our brave party.

"Perhaps we could fill in the blanks," he says clicking open his revolver scattering the spent shells to the grown and sliding fresh cartridges in to it in their place, "I know this lovely restaurant in Milan we can use as neutral territory."

"If," he finishes reloading his weapon refocuses his aim, "we survive of course."

[Stella Gaslight]

The big bastard as she had dubbed the creature before her was too smart by half.  It was all she could to to keep from being swatted down or succumbing to the greenies sent her way.  They looked fresher and they did not react to the anti fungal nearly as much making life very hard for Starling.  Old Betsy was too powerful it would hit Redburn so she settled for hacking away and cursing under her breath a lot in rather colorful Hindi. "Be careful that thing is smart."

[Evelyn Adler]

"And apparently it is some kind of leader... queen bee... what do I know?" Mary emptied the entire barrel into that monster and it still came forward.
"Starling, why do you carry that oversized cannon if you don't use it? Shoot the bloody monster before it rips us apart!" Stepping besides Starling she drew her sabre and buried it deep into the chest of a Greenie.
"Ok. Go. Shoot it. Try not to kill Redburn!"
Taking a wide swing that almost severs the head off the next Greenie, she adds "Oh and Hawthorne, Milan sounds absolutely lovely!"

[walkthebassline]

Redburn snapped his head up. Let yourself get lost in the dance some other time; there's others to think about right now. You've gotta stay sharp.

He glanced back at his comrades.

"Well hello there all of you."

A greenie's head went flying through the air.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here today."

He shoved a shoulder into the beast in front of him, spun through two more closing in, and stabbed his blade through the heart of another. As the corpse slid off the end of the sword he beat a hasty withdrawal back to where the other three had assembled.

"I say, where has that Rourke fellow gotten himself off to?"

[Stella Gaslight]

"Alrighty then old girl we have a job to do.  Redburn retreat for a moment."  Starling leveled the gun at the black creature.  Old Betsy was a modified black powder monster and took a moment to get ready but then there was an all mighty flash and bang that overpowered the howls. Starling despite her best effort was knocked backwards off her feet. The black creature was still, half of his torso and most of his head was gone along with large chunks of all the greenes in front of him as well as the hall.  "Good Old Betsy she always gets the job done. "  The black things body crumpled and the rest of the greenies that remained pulled back unsure of what to do.

[walkthebassline]

Redburn caught Starling in his arms and gently helped her stand.

"Careful there m'dear. That was a fine shot! I am very grateful you waited until I was clear. I'd hate to be reduced to part of the decor already."

With that he raised his sword and went at it again. His pistol still had some shots left in it, so he occasionally let off a shot to the head of greenies outside of his reach.

"You know, I do believe this wave might be over soon. It seems to be slackening a bit."

[Stella Gaslight]

"I was a pleasure to dance with you. We should try it with music sometime when things are not trying to kill us" Starling got back on her feet and rubbed her shoulder.  "Oof I am going to feel that in the morning.  I would run too if I had Betsy pointed at me.  Besides i think that black one was leading them somehow and they don't know what to do with him gone.  I say we move on before they come back with friends." 

[MWBailey]

"Ye goin' green, Bill."

Bloody cripes, Bill thought wildly, it's Handthorpe!

"Bossman Bey said nobody was to try to kill the medical team, didn't you hear the announcement? Oh, that's right, you got bit an' ain't been in yer right mind. Well, I got a cure for ya, Bill... "

Three corridor crossings away where Hawthorne, Mary, Starling, Rourke and Redburn were putting down the last of the current swarm, there could be heard above the quietening sound of battle a desperate plea for mercy.

"NO!"
"shaddup an' take yer medicine Bill."
"NO! You're wrong, the light's bad in here! I ain't green! Please, Handthorpe, I made a mistake and I missed on purpose! don't kill meee..."

BLAM!

"Damn fool breeder scum..."

"Now, who or what bleeder was that?" Rourke wondered aloud, scabbarding the saber and reloading the Webley , as he headed in the direction of this new contretemps. "Iss in the direction of the President's Suite," he said. maybe we'll get lucky and find one o' the--!"

A figure stepped out from the shadows ahead, smoke still curling from the longbarrelled Schofield revolver in his right hand.An american-accented voice, drawling with the accent of the deep south, rang out in the hallway.

"You folks from the British Health Ministry? My name's Handthorpe. I'll escort y'all to the President. I'm afraid y'all may be too late to do more'n doctor us survivors an' help kill off the swarms. Oh, And hello again, Sergeant. Looks like you survived Baghdad after all..."

[walkthebassline]

Redburn stepped towards the newcomer with a wide grin on his face.

"Well bully me! Would you be related to the Handthorpes from Devil's Place, back in Calhoun county? I dare say we'd be related through my great aunt's second husband. The name's Redburn; the ones from Charleston mind you, not from Columbia."

Despite his friendly words and expression, Morgan began reloading his pistols with quick, steady motions and cleaned the blade of his sword.

"It seems you've met our boss before. Down right peculiar isn't it?"

[MWBailey]

"Devil's Place? My Pa said we had relatives someplace that sounded like that. Family run by a big feller name of Ranse." He thumbed the hammer of the Schofield to half cock, plucking out the spent cartridge, and plucked another from his belt and put it in the relative chamber as he spoke, finally snapping the revolver closed again with a snap, and holstered the weapon.

"Yep, I was here when teh Bossman asked Rourke and his bunch to check out a district in Baghdad where one of our operative swent missing, since it was Brit territory and all. Real sorry to hear 'bout yer boys ... Sarge." Handthorpe said, obviously jabbing the sergeant a bit...

"You should ha' been there, Tex," Rourke said, his voice very quiet. Dangerously so. "We coulda used ye ... for bait..." But lets get along now, yeah? Take us to yer boss, like a good lapdog..."

[walkthebassline]

Redburn pulled out a pipe and lit it, glancing at the ladies present to see if either one objected, then casually set his hand on the pommel of his LeMat.

"Yes we'd best move along. We wouldn't want any accidents to happen before we get these people their medical supplies."

[Stella Gaslight]

Something about him rubbed Starling the wrong way. She moved in closer to the others wanting them to put off a untied front.  "Yes, I have an experimental tincture that may help curb the outbreak."  For Handthorpe to have survived as long has he had he had to know something they didn't, some kind of protection or perhaps he was an angry cuss.  Either way she wouldn't mind a closer look and a blood sample provided she knew he wouldn't try and shoot her for it. If saying the words didn't work they would have to find a way to beat it on their own.

[MWBailey]

"That sounds promisin', Miss...? Handthorpe asked leadingly. "Lord President Bey'll be happy to hear about that." By the way, I must say you folks're pretyty well-armed. You were expectin' our situation t' be... grave, I take it?" He didn't seem to be intimidated, but his voice held a slightly-altered note, as if weighing something in his mind. The woman must be thinkin' I'm a Mind, he thought. can't she see I'm not green and smell that I'm not moldy?

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling looked at him curiously, cataloging and making hypotheses just as she would with a plant in the wild.  Until she could be sure of his parameters Betsy would stay between them. "Scott and I have yet to see a Greenmouth plague situation that is not grave. In fact I am rather impressed to see someone unaffected.  How long have you been here among them and are there any others without infection?"

[MWBailey]

"I wasn't always a glorified security guard in a flyin' meat locker," Handthorpe answered. "I've survived in every harsh environment known to man, and outwitted everybody who's evertried to take me alive ... or dead. That said, this latest development, these howlers -- Bey and the others call 'em 'Ruling Minds' -- they're gettin' to be a right nuisance. They don't move fast, but they're tough as hell and stronger than a couple of humans." The President and them worship the damn things, but there's no reason to tell you that before we get there, he thought.

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling frowned rather sure he not telling her everything but at least he wasn't calling her little lady or refusing to speak to her at all and that was better than some of the other security people she met.  "Yes I think the ruling minds are the final stage of the infection from what we have seen and they are tough bastards but nothing we couldn't take out but bothering none the less.  Still I wonder how you have avoided the plague.  Perhaps you are just hearty.  Is your president free of the plague as well?  Being holed up in this flying tin can can't be good for your health."       

[MWBailey]

"Truth be told, miss, it's a damn sight more healthy than havin' the Pinks on yer back everywhere you go," Handthorpe said grimly. "Least wise, it was until these yahoos started haulin' aboard weird garbage from all over. This plague or whatever's only been goin' fer three months. There've been other things hauled onta this flyin pawnshop, things that are just plain uncanny. How've I survived? Hell, missy, I hain't 'ad time to think about that. No one does, when they're busy doing the surviving while everybody else is offerin' themselves and their neighbors to the local...Well, let that go," he said, and cursed sulphurously, then muttered under his breath. "Already said too damn much."

[Private Weasel]

Hawthorne stayed silent throughout this exchange, feeding shells quickly into his sidearms. Pockets seemed significantly less full now, he mused, pushing the last shell into the awaiting bore, he should start being more frugal.

"Offering themselves Mister Handthorpe?" He asked casually, clicking the gun back into deadly service and throwing a sharp eye at the newcomer. "I think you should probably explain."

"I've been shot at today by a mysterious assailant and I don't find myself in an overly trustworthy mood"

"I'm sure you understand."

[MWBailey]

As they talked, Handthorpe had led them down increasingly-tall hallways. Unseen behind grilles spaced at strategic intervals, guards watched the peculiar company pass, hands gripping weapons with the whiteknuckled ferocity of offended zealots. Hidden, yes, but Rourke felt them all the same, and looked closely where he thought he heard breaths taken or oaths uttered but muffled., and began to see the telltale shadows of a sizable guard force -- and these did not smell musty. Handthorpe finally stopped at a pair of polished-mahogany doors, guarded by a foursome of heavily-armed guards,  and whirled around on Hawthorne, and got up nose-to nose with him.

"What I 'understand' is that a brit lordling with a worse reputation than my own has been loadin' two big honkin' guns in my face and demandin' to know somethin' that he ought to be able to figure out for himself."

Rourke stepped up and shoved Handthorpe back. "Just give Hawthorne a bleedin' bit o' space, Mircer, will ye? People who run up on 'im an' preach at 'im loik 'at tend to lose their gnosis, understand?. Not that I'm particular worried about your damned nose."

Handthorpe, fuming and white with fury, hissed in a low voice that made the door-guards wince and glance at each other...or maybe it was his words that bothered them so.

"Ever stood at the gates o' hell, rich boy?" He rasped. "Well, that's where you are now, except this version of Beelzebub thinks he's God. May your incredible and famous luck hold, 'cause with that manner you're gonna need it." He turned back to Starling and said, "There's still time to back off, Miss. Bey's not your everyday suit in a boardroom." Seeing that he was wasting his time, he said, Well, I tried. If I see you again, I won't say I toldja so. you'll already know that. " With that, he said to the guards, "They're here. Announce 'em." And with that, Handthorpe turned on his heel and left, fuming.

[Evelyn Adler]

Mary had listened to the entire exchange unmoved; her steely prussian officers face firmly back in place.
She too had noticed the security guards. They would have to tread very carefully now. Their ammo wouldn't last forever too. Reloading, she had searched several empty pockets first, before finding one that still had rounds. She still did have the belts. And the dynamite. But that was all.
When Handthorpe shoved his ugly mug almost in Hawthorne's face, her hand went without really noticing to her sabre, gripping so hard, that her knuckles stood out white.
"Relax. You don't know who's watching!"

Mary forced herself to watch impassively. Handthorpe's words confirmed a terrible suspicion, she had, since she saw that large, monstrous Greenie back in the other corridor.
This was no accidental outbreak. This was the work of a madman, breeding an army!

[Private Weasel]

Remaining silent Hawthorne met Handthorpe’s gaze and held it, trying to get the measure of the man. There was no need to speak; Hawthorne has always believed you learnt much more by using your ears and your eyes than using your mouth.

So he’s heard of my reputation, he thought slotting the oversized revolver back into it’s holster but leaving his hands ready, this could work to our advantage.
He offered Handthorpe a rye smile as he turned away and in glancing round he noticed that the glut of ruffians were now directing their professional attention towards him.

Good he thought and rested a purposeful hand his revolver.

[walkthebassline]

If Redburn noticed any guards along the way he gave no reaction; he was busy with his pipe and his flask. When Handthorpe tried to stare down Hawthorne, Redburn took no notice; he was staring intently at the buttons on his frock coat. And when Handthorpe stormed away angry Redburn was trying to tamp down his pipe again and bumped into the retreating soldier. He practically slurred his apology as Handthorpe shoved him back and kept going.

Redburn slowly stepped towards Ms. Starling. He held up a hand and in clear English he whispered slyly,

"Now look what I found. What do you think a man like that was doing with this?"

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling had come in to this whole affair wanting to heal what she could and felt almost sorry for the people on this ship bur now as she walked along seeing the healthy people a rage started to build.  If there was one injustice she could not stand in the world it was those who made others suffer for their benefit.  She ran a quick hand over Old Betsy and debated letting the president have a face full of her lead but the tablet came first, stopping this madness came first then well she would do what she could get away with. Redburn pulled her from her brooding holding up a vial of green fluid that had a top on it she recognized as an automatic needle.  The fluid it self was strangely separated in to a thick dark green sludge with a lighter golden green on top. She leaned in close to Redburn as if checking his vitals or sharing sweet nothings.  "If I had to hazard a guess I would say this is why that old cuss isn't green.  I can analyze it and if i have the right compounds make more but I need time and I don't think we have it." 

[MWBailey]

Rourke stepped close to the pair of outwardly-apparent 'lovebirds,' having caught the gist of their words. He grabbed their respective upper arms where they touched, but his first words contrasted almost diametrically with his actions. "Good job, Redburn. Miss Starling, keep that stuff for later. Something tells me we'll have not only a need for it but also time and facities for you to work on it..." He paused. "But not just now," he said more loudly, then dropped his tone again.

"When I jerk you two apart, play along," he said, whispering close so that it looked like he as giving a whispered scolding. Then he shoved the two apart by their upper arms, saying in a normal, authoritative voicetone, "I won't say it again, you two keep it professional!"

[walkthebassline]

Redburn mockingly tipped his hat and stuck out his tongue at Rourke, while winking at Ms. Starling.

"Whatever you say, SIR. Now lets get this show on the road."