With the help of Miss Butcher, Ben moved the unconscious passenger into one of the bunks. Mindful of her modesty, he pulled the afghan over her body. He checked her pulse with two fingers under her chin, and observed the passage of her breath. Both were normal, if perhaps a little fast for an unconscious woman. Nothing to worry about for the while, anyway.
Leaving her briefly, he returned to the others. 'It appears that we have an passenger.' The others nodded, having seen her entry. 'She's insensible at the moment. Miss Butcher suspects drugs or gas. There is no smell of alcohol or chloroform on her breath, so my guess is as good as yours. Her vitals are fairly normal. I suggest that we leave her be until she regains consciousness.' He turned to Miss Butcher. 'I'm sorry to ask, but would you have any spare clothes that you could lend our guest? I doubt that she would be happy walking around in just a chemise once she wakes up.' Miss Butcher nodded in approval, and fetched a simple skirt and blouse. From the look of the quality of her chemise, it was less than she was used to. She folded them and put them at the foot of the bunk, then drew the curtain closed.
Everyone assembled on the bridge. 'If we only have two weeks, then we had better get going.' Ben drew a rolled up chart from a cupboard and weighted it down on the map table. Shenjing is here, about 5200 miles away as the crow flies to the south east. The Bohème has a top speed of perhaps 180 miles per hour, but that would empty our tanks within the day. If we fill the long-range reserve tanks, we can make it there in one hop, which is advisable because we will be flying over a few hostile territories. Nothing to worry about, but we don't want to end up being given watered-down fuel. With full tanks, our most economical speed is about 80 miles per hour, still a good rate. That will get us to Shenjing in a little under three days. If we add a day for unexpected problems, that's four days each way. Now I have no idea how we go about finding this Colonel's man in China, but if what I know about the triads is right, they will find us soon enough. Two days will do it. With ten days in total, that gives us four days in hand. As we will be lucky to get flight clearance before the day is out, we will leave tomorrow, if that's fine with everyone. That will give us time to gather our effects and prepare the ship.' He paused and took a breath, then let it out slowly. 'This looks like a good opportunity. I'll go and get the fuel and clearance, as all my belongings are already on board. We will leave at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I will be here overnight to keep an eye on our passenger. You are welcome to join me if you wish.'
He bade them farewell, and left, having first checked on the mysterious passenger. She was still unconscious, but well. She had moved a little, and her fingertips shifted slowly.
Ben walked slowly over to the guard-box, a slight spring in his step. This could be very profitable, and fun too. He tried to not think about what the contents of the package would be. With the reward offered, this Demonic Engine, he could not afford to mess things up. The guard looked up at him as he neared.
'Good afternoon, Mr Hudson. How may I help you?'
'Flight clearance forms please, and a full load of one-fifteen meth in my ship, berth seven.'
'Very good. Pilot's Card?'
Ben handed over a creased pass. The guard perused it, and typed its embossed number into an old Analytical Engine that ticked and thrust out a punched tape. 'Credit it to my Card account. I'll have the money to pay on my return.'
The guard reached under his desk and pulled out bits of paper from various cubbyholes. 'Clearance forms. Delivery port is next to the hangar entrance.'
Ben thanked him and returned to the ship. Already, a begoggled dockhand was clamping the huge fuel pipe onto the port on the underside of the ship. He nodded a greeting to him, and threw him a half-sovereign. It was worth tipping well when a 'mistake' could have you going down in flames.
Back in the cabin, he sat down to fill in the forms. There were about ten pages, each needing to be filled out in triplicate. He cursed, and poured himself a stiff drink.With the help of Miss Butcher, Ben moved the unconscious passenger into one of the bunks. Mindful of her modesty, he pulled the afghan over her body. He checked her pulse with two fingers under her chin, and observed the passage of her breath. Both were normal, if perhaps a little fast for an unconscious woman. Nothing to worry about for the while, anyway.
Leaving her briefly, he returned to the others. 'It appears that we have an passenger.' The others nodded, having seen her entry. 'She's insensible at the moment. Miss Butcher suspects drugs or gas. There is no smell of alcohol or chloroform on her breath, so my guess is as good as yours. Her vitals are fairly normal. I suggest that we leave her be until she regains consciousness.' He turned to Miss Butcher. 'I'm sorry to ask, but would you have any spare clothes that you could lend our guest? I doubt that she would be happy walking around in just a chemise once she wakes up.' Miss Butcher nodded in approval, and fetched a simple skirt and blouse. From the look of the quality of her chemise, it was less than she was used to. She folded them and put them at the foot of the bunk, then drew the curtain closed.
Everyone assembled on the bridge. 'If we only have two weeks, then we had better get going.' Ben drew a rolled up chart from a cupboard and weighted it down on the map table. Shenjing is here, about 5200 miles away as the crow flies to the south east. The Bohème has a top speed of perhaps 180 miles per hour, but that would empty our tanks within the day. If we fill the long-range reserve tanks, we can make it there in one hop, which is advisable because we will be flying over a few hostile territories. Nothing to worry about, but we don't want to end up being given watered-down fuel. With full tanks, our most economical speed is about 80 miles per hour, still a good rate. That will get us to Shenjing in a little under three days. If we add a day for unexpected problems, that's four days each way. Now I have no idea how we go about finding this Colonel's man in China, but if what I know about the triads is right, they will find us soon enough. Two days will do it. With ten days in total, that gives us four days in hand. As we will be lucky to get flight clearance before the day is out, we will leave tomorrow, if that's fine with everyone. That will give us time to gather our effects and prepare the ship.' He paused and took a breath, then let it out slowly. 'This looks like a good opportunity. I'll go and get the fuel and clearance, as all my belongings are already on board. We will leave at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I will be here overnight to keep an eye on our passenger. You are welcome to join me if you wish.'
He bade them farewell, and left, having first checked on the mysterious passenger. She was still unconscious, but well. She had moved a little, and her fingertips shifted slowly.
Ben walked slowly over to the guard-box, a slight spring in his step. This could be very profitable, and fun too. He tried to not think about what the contents of the package would be. With the reward offered, this Demonic Engine, he could not afford to mess things up. The guard looked up at him as he neared.
'Good afternoon, Mr Hudson. How may I help you?'
'Flight clearance forms please, and a full load of one-fifteen meth in my ship, berth seven.'
'Very good. Pilot's Card?'
Ben handed over a creased pass. The guard perused it, and typed its embossed number into an old Analytical Engine that ticked and thrust out a punched tape. 'Credit it to my Card account. I'll have the money to pay on my return.'
The guard reached under his desk and pulled out bits of paper from various cubbyholes. 'Clearance forms. Delivery port is next to the hangar entrance.'
Ben thanked him and returned to the ship. Already, a begoggled dockhand was clamping the huge fuel pipe onto the port on the underside of the ship. He nodded a greeting to him, and threw him a half-sovereign. It was worth tipping well when a 'mistake' could have you going down in flames.
Back in the cabin, he sat down to fill in the forms. There were about ten pages, and each needed to be filled out in triplicate. He poured himself a drink and set to work. It took him a little over an hour to fill in all the details of the flight, with a little fibbing when it came to the purpose of the trip. This done, he filed one set, then slipped another into a tube. This he rammed into a pneumatic delivery tube at the entrance to the hanger, whereby it was forced by air pressure to the Flight Bureau at the Embassy. The third set he gave to the guard, who stamped it and put it away.
The day had come to an end, and the last remnants of light from the hazy sun were creeping back towards the dark line of the horizon, punctuated by the spires and roofs of the buildings all around. The stars were invisible thanks to the thick smog that lay, choking, over the whole city.
He returned to the ship. The woman was still unconscious.