The Log of the HMAS Marigold: Parts I-V

[walkthebassline]

"I'm not quite sure yet. I'm having to take a much more circuitous route through this wetness than I'd like, so it'll be a bit still. Did I hear that fellow Rourke say something about meeting in two and a half hours? I'd say it'll take at least that long if not a bit more. Even longer if I break for refreshments and a nap."

Here Redburn giggled.

"Speaking of refreshments, if you want to make yourself useful, find someone to fetch me a glass and some water. And absinthe if you've got it. If you haven't I've got some here in my flask. Creativity is what's called for here."

[Evelyn Adler]

As soon as the meeting had ended, Mary sped towards her cabin. She knew her presence was required on the bridge and it was a good idea to visit the Bosun to stock up on firepower. But there was something she had to do first. Time was of the essence.
She locked the cabin door behind her, kneeled on the floor and retrieved the mahogany case from under her bunk...

[Private Weasel]

Lord Hawthorne strode towards the Observation deck, his brow furrowed; his mind of other things. Despite his willowy frame, it is obvious that Hawthorne was not new to the turbulence of a distressed airship. Traversing the walkways like a seasoned sailor, he reached his in short order and finding himself on the relatively small observation deck, he pulls a thick envelope from his breast pocket and leafs through the pages enclosed.

Oblivious to the swaying of the ship, he finishes his reading and bringing out a self refilling pen he scrawls an elaborate signature.  The envelope is sealed and a small glass is produced of amber liquid.

He pauses, muttering a short prayer.

“Empire and Empress” he announces downing his drink in a single gulp. Turning the letter over he clearly writes “In the case of my death” on the front of the envelope, then tucking the package into his breast pocket once again, he heads off to the bridge in search of the Captain.

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling was left with Rourke comparing her notes on the greenies with his.  "You may be right about skin protection but I think metal isn't flexible enough.  If they managed to crush it and trap our hands it would be useless but if perhaps we used leather it would give us a little extra time.  I don't know how much but any time would be worth it right?"  She pulled out a small box covered in waterproof fabric and unwrapped the top layer revealing row after row of darts and below them small bottles with labels written in Starling's large plain handwriting.  Donning gloves she took out a little green bottle with 3X printed on the side, poured a little of the golden fluid in a dish and started dipping the darts in it.  "This is an experiment in extending the normally period along with a potent sedative.  I can find no medical reason why it wont work but that doesn't mean it will.  If all else fails it will knock any humans still left for a few hours so we can put them somewhere out of the way."

[MWBailey]

Rourke wrote down several things in his notebook. "Right...using what we have here on board, that'd be the gloves, and the greatcoats. We have leather flightsuits for various reasons, but i'm not sure about this lot agreein' to wear 'em. Hawthorne might, but 'e might not, also. You 'eard his 'expendable' rant. Mind you, he means what he says, about shootin' or killin' the infected -- and I second it, though it'd be a damned shame to lose anybody. But better a damned shame than another damned outbreak."

After they moved enough flightsuits and geatcoats for everyone to the debarkation hold (amid the various leaps and plunges the ship was forced to take), Rourke went up to the observation deck "to see what's what," as he put it to Miss Starling. He nodded to Hawthorne, and flashed him a white-toothed grin. "Buck up," milord, he said, "this is bound ta be better excitement than sloshin' brandy in that club." Turning serious, he added, "What you said down there, I know you'll do. But whatever you believe or don't, be sure you say the words if'n its only you left, or you'll be gone too, and all for nought. "

"Better yet, say the words yerself no matter 'ow many are left. Legends 're fine an' all, but nobody really knows what'll happen at that point. Better as safe as we can be than dead or Greened before we get there. The colonel found 'em an' wrote 'em out. He might be batflea-crazy, but 'e knows his oh-cult stuff."

[Private Weasel]

Hawthorne considers Rourke's words carefully and smiles.

"If I can help it Rourke, we're all getting out alive, that's certainly plan A"

Hawthorne shakes his head, as if to loosen an errant thought, or stray consideration. Rourke had seen this before, his Lordship, like other Diplomatic Engineers before they set off to engage in covert engineering, had obviously re-signed his will and was prepared.

"Rourke," he said, his voice calm and considered, "I believe I should visit the armoury. I shall see you aft"

[Evelyn Adler]

After sending the encrypted message and while waiting if there was an answer, Mary used her aether transmission device to listen in to the communication from the Nirgalian Dagger. There was no change though, through the static caused by the storm, she received only fragments of what seemed to be an automated distress message.

S.O.S..... NO APPROACH.....

She doubted, that her presence on the bridge would bring a change to the situation, moreso since her own device was actually more powerful than the aethergraph on the bridge. Common sense would have demanded to let the Marigold personnel use it, but when she had suggested as much to her superiors, they had almost ripped her head off. Prototype... military secrets.... the usual nonsense from people for whom danger meant, to get a paper cut or to fall asleept at their desks!

Her thoughts went back to the impending mission and the team. Some real characters among them. She was still contemplating when an answer arrived. Mary glanced over the few lines - and the name.
"I knew it!" she smiled to herself.

Maybe a change of plans was in order.

[MWBailey]

It floated in the middle cloud strata; barely recognizable as a ship, the envelope and propulsion frame of a small semirigid dirigible of the sort that the Treadstone organization used for patrol duty came hurtling through the storm at the head of a transverse gust front, twisting and turning about like a leaf in a whirlwind just before it would have started a collision course with the  Marigold, a bolt of lightning skewered the bag, and the hydrogen blossomed outward in orange flowers of flame, and the shredded hulk suddenly plummeted as the Marigold was forced to plow through the smoke that followed the fireball.

"Right you are, milord --WHOA!" Rourke answered Hawthorne, then exclaimed in startlement as he saw the near-collision through the forward viewport. "It's gettin' mean out there," he breathed. A huge, dark form began to be intermittently visible through the storm-wrack off to Starboard, like a low-built castle on top of a sausage-shaped mass; The Nirgalian Dagger. They were almost there. Rourke hoofed it to the bosun's for extra ammo and a club with more reach than the blackjack; some of the bodies in the wreckage had looked like greenies...

[The Corsair]

The near miss was startling but to someone like Joe the best response was to grin and stare wide-eyed. There were two doors either side of the bridge which led out to a small observation deck and it was through these doors Joe hurtled seconds after the near-miss with the Dagger. The outdoor observation deck was slippery, exceedingly so, to the point where nothing would have managed to stay upright upon it for more than small seconds. Joe had boots though, damn good boots, boots with an abrasive micro-fibre that went rigid when he tapped a small button on their heels. With that stopping him from falling, he sprinted across the deck, passing as a half-blur before the bridge windows, and launched himself off the railing, just far enough forward to pass just wide of the Marigold as he fell through the air.

[walkthebassline]

His eyes gleaming, his face split by a maniacal grin, Morgan Redburn let the wheel spin. He hadn't exactly meant to hurdle right through an explosion, but he knew this ship could handle it. And it certainly was stimulating! He took another sip of his absinthe and caught the madly spinning wheel, swerving out of the way of another lightning bolt.

"We'll bring her in safely after all boys. That's our target right there. Now hang on tight; these storms get worse right around the eye."

With that he switched his glasses for a pair with green lenses, finished off the glass of absinthe, and seized the wheel with both hands.

[MWBailey]

Rourke stared dubiously at the thing in his hands. Two baton-shaped lenths of black wood, with rings carved into their mass like grip-rings on a sword, each joined together at one end by a brass chain, attached to the wood at both ends by the heftiest swivels he'd ever seen. He'd seen many of these nunchaku, and used one, before, but was never more than passable with it. Nonetheless, it had proven to be really powerful as a truncheon, and had seen him through a mutiny on board a troopship back in the '70's; the rebels'd stepped of out his way when he came in swingin' it like he did, and the fear of it was enough to quiet all but the most rebellious -- snd they'd dropped easily enough...

Now, though, he was a bit disappointed; he'd hoped for a nightstick at least, but the bosun said they'd traded those for teh flightsuits back in Croyden Aerodrome, the Marigold's home port --!

"MAN OVERBOARD!"

Rourke grabbed and stowed and holstered his gear, and stuck the nunchaku down into his right boot,  and ran to the bridge, his sole-cleats gripping and tearing into the floorbords as he ran. Bledsoe turned around at his stomping approach, and said, "It's that weapons expert! Bloody looney's gone and jumped off the for'ard obs deck!"

"Well..." Rourke thought he could see a shape flitting about in the scud and rain a ways below the ship. He relaxed a bit and said, "I think he'll be alright, if he can keep from gettin' fried by a stray bolt," he said, with more confidence than he really felt at that moment. "lets just 'ope 'e can get aboard the Dagger. Lets get aft, all but Mr. Redburn, shall we? Good show, by the way, Mr. Redburn!"

[Evelyn Adler]

Leaving the Bosun's, Mary almost bumped into Rourke. Slung over her back was a Winchester rifle, strapped to her sides a caliber .44 Colt revolver and her army sabre respectively, An ammo belt hung around her slender hip. The rest of her garb was... unusual. From the laced up, knee-high black leather boots over leather trousers, a corseted leather west and a black leather duster, it was decidedly un-military.
If Rourke was shocked at her improper appearance, she didn't know, but she murmured somewhat apologetically "I thought, leather would give more protection than the uniform, Sir. I hope that is alright?"

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling was lucky to have all of her darts packed by the time the ships movement sent her tumbling head over heels.  As it was there was no spills which she was eternally grateful for and only a scattering of papers and the crashing of the chars all around her.  She sprung up, shoved her kit in her pack and went off to find out just what was happening.  Starling had learned the quickest way to the heart of the problem was to follow the shouting.  Running as fast had she dared in case there was another swift movement of the ship Starling ended up with the others. Well almost falling in to them as the ship shifted again.  "Lord I need my airlegs and soon if this keeps up."  She was in a leather flight suit, a sunny yellow poncho with what looked rather like a slight small elephant gun on her back and was rather a sight.  "Saw that lad fall.  What a triple cursed storm!  I had time to dose some ammo with anti fungal that should my understanding prove right will really play havoc with those greenies that i was going to give him.  Suppose you can have it now Old Betsy dosn't like the stuff much." Starling said pointing to her back.

[walkthebassline]

Morgan tipped his hat at Rourke and went back to his flying.

"We'll be bumping up to them in a couple minutes. I've gotten ya this far; now its time for you lot to make sure we can dock. Ms. Starling, I'll take some of those rounds if you please. My LeMat carries nine pistol rounds and one shotgun shell. I'm not sure what all you have dosed up but I'd be much obliged at whatever you can spare. And Mr. Rourke, if I might inquire as to the extensiveness of your armory, would you happen to have such a thing as a Volcanic Repeating Pistol? I recently parted with mine."

[Stella Gaslight]

"I did whatever I could find" She said digging around in the collection of pouches and pocked the flight suit provided and found a few glass specimen jars full of ammo and handed him a handful of jars what looked like a good 3-5 rounds of pistol ammo and some shotgun shells.  The metal casing had a strange purple iridescence to it  and there were a few drops of an opalised violet fluid in the bottom.  "There you go Redburn.  Don't mind the extra at the bottom. It is oil of clove mixed with goldenseal and deep purple Barberry and pretty much completely harmless as long as you don't drink it by the bottle.  Keep them sealed until you want use them, the rain and air make them less potent.  I can make a few more batches after this but they have to soak in solution for about ten min for it to really have a shot of sticking."

[walkthebassline]

One hand on the wheel, Redburn pocketed the offered jars one after another.

"Thank you kindly ma'am. I'm sure they'll come in quite handy."

[MWBailey]

"It's fine, leftenant, I was about to suggest everyone don the ones in debarkation."

"Thanks, Miss Starling; I do believe you may be a true lifesaver."

"Volcanic, eh? I believe I did see one on the rack," Rourke mused. He punched a button on the adjacent squawkbox. "Bosun?"

"Aye," came teh stout but crackly reply.

"Could yiou gather up that Volcanic  lever pistol, and all of tehammo you have to fit it? we're a bit pressed for time. "

"aye, sergeant, I'll be roight  there."

[Stella Gaslight]

"I do what I can."  Lightning flashed filling the room with harsh light and thunder came after it roaring.  Starling ran to the porthole, the storm was macing one last ditch effort to hit them hard before they could pull in for docking.  She could see the The Dagger in high relief for a moment before the blackness swallowed both ships up again.  It was masive and its upper boding ramp was hanging off in to thin air and draped in rotting fabric like a ghost ship.  "At least it looks fitting for a ship full of monsters." She muttered feeling the hard rain driving to get in.

[The Corsair]

Joe of course had no clue about Rourke's 'struck by lightning' comment, but it was most certainly relevant in material to his present situation. It is indeed odd how in some moments, those most intense ones, time slows down to ludicrously small speeds. It is perhaps further odd how lightning could have possibly appeared slower than it truly is but as a bolt arced its unpredictable zig-zag across the sky Joe noticed it was impossibly slug-like in terms of momentum. It struck him quite casually, disappearing like it were a friend tapping your shoulder then turning away as though they had not. In typical Joe fashion, the lighting spattered its way across him, searing some pieces of clothing and locking his body rigid then stopped and he was returned to fluidity after only a brief blackout. It seemed that nothing could truly go wrong for Joseph Rooney.

And as the bucking and spinning shape of the Nirgalian Dagger darted its hopeless way into his vision between some clouds Joe activated his wings, which had miraculously been undamaged (something that could only have happened to Joe Rooney), and he sailed his way through deafening wind, eyes streaming enough fluid to fill a wine barrel, toward the sad hulk of metal.

[walkthebassline]

"Rourke, I thank you kindly. Now; lets go do this thing."

With that, Redburn swung the ship hard to the left and dropped it down, slipping into the eye of the storm. The relative silence was suddenly deafening. As they neared the Dagger he said,

"Alright boys and girls, lets us dock with this tub."

[Private Weasel]

“That’ll do nicely”

His Lordship took an admiring glance at his reflection in mirror bolted to the wall. Dressed somewhat bizarrely in a beautifully tailored morning suit, he had augmented his inappropriate attire with a thick woollen greatcoat, its pockets bulging with 8 gauge shotgun shells for the pair of immense custom built revolvers, replacing his usual weapon, a slight pistol, designed for concealment. 

Pulling on leather gloves made popular with aeronaughts and aviation pioneers from the rack, he takes a sturdy military cane and a pair of goggles and with a last glace in the mirror he makes his way purposely aft to meet the rest of the team.

[MWBailey]

The bosun and two crewmen sprang from an opening in the nose of the Marigold's envelope, rappelled down to the shockingly ramshackle- appearing dock and gangway, and managed to tie the ship secure and reel her stern in on the still-functioning (though barely) hand-cranked winch, and make the gangway some semblance of secure. Clearly, some ship or other had either crashed into the dock upon landing, or torn itself loose while docked, or both. Still, most of the decking of the dock was still secure and sure. Rourke waited for everyone to assemble, and then said, "Remember, as far as they're to know, we're 'ere to 'elp th' survivors, and we're armed because of past  difficulties with Swarms."

He led the way down to the dock, throgh the copious rain, which was driven nearly sideways by teh cannonading wind, into the little vestibule that contained teh entry portal. He pressed the "CALL" button on the disturbingly-unlit portal's comm panel. A light came on over head, its bright yellow light a slight comfort amid the drearily dark and stormy-wet world around them. the panel's jewel-light telltales lit up as well -- but nothing else happened, not for quite a while. after several long minutes of pressing buttons and nothing happening, Rourke sidestepped to the door, peered inside, and saw no one, and the desk on the other side in wild disarray, as if the occupant had been knocked down or dragged away unwillingly. Rourke grimaced, and tried the outer Manual Latchwheel. it turned, but only if he really put his back into it, and then it shrieked like a braking railcar and barely budged. "Redburn? Milord? come 'elp me crank this bleedin' door open, will you? Leftenant, miss Starling, you get your weapons ready an' cover us 'n the door, will you? The other side o' th' window's not too promising."

[Evelyn Adler]

Making her way aft, Mary had contemplated the mission.

Hawthorne. She couldn't help noticing, this was a man she should have liked to meet in quite different circumstances. Quite dashing, cultivated, brave with just the right amount of foolhardiness, it seemed. A real Gentleman.
What a waste!
But it couldn't be helped. She would deal with whoever had thought of this harebrained scheme when she came back. If she came back...
With a slight shudder she thought of the envelope next to her bunk. The Last Will and Testament of Iska von Rabenstein.

Enough! She pulled herself together. Reaching the docking area, she lightly stepped beside Hawthorne and gave him her best reassuring smile.

"About what you said earlier - do not worry! I'll make sure, I'll kill you myself."
The following pause was just the tiniest fracture too long, before she added.
"If you get bitten, I mean!"

Mary smiled sweetly.

[walkthebassline]

Morgan finished adjusting the leather vest he had put on underneath his frock coat, checked his pistols and saber, and stepped up to the wheel next to Rourke.

"Come along your Lordship, lets get this thing open."

[Stella Gaslight]

Starling swung Old Betsey around to face the door.  All she could hear was the howl of the wind and the protesting of the door.  The gun was an oddity, obviously cobbled together piecemeal and added on to.  The sight was this strange swirl of delicate copper that seemed rather out of place until starling set two bamboo tubes in the now evident holders and loaded them with darts, golden colored on her right and purple on the left.  "I imagine soon we will see how the greenies like my medicine."  She felt almost relaxed provided she kept telling herself it was tigers they were hunting and not plague born monsters.