"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[Stella Gaslight]

If Angel had known waving to the people on this ships was going to cause all this poking and prodding she might not have done it. Angel cocked her head to the side looking very confused.  "What is procreate? I have never heard that word before. Is is a good thing?"   

Emma used George as a translator and made sure all the ships were on the same page.  She wished she had not hurt her leg the leaning on others for support and hopping around was not the dignified impression she wished to give.  After yawning so much she could barely get a sentence out she conceded that her earlier nap had left her exhausted.  Emma wished the other captains good night and tried to sleep but she couldn't.  Every time she closed her eyes the dream came back finally she gave up and hobbled down the hall to Trip's room.  She knocked and was hit by a sudden wave of embarrassment as he opened the door. "I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight." She squeaked out.

"What." Trip sputtered.

"Not...not like that I mean.  I keep having nightmares and I was wondering if you could hold me while I sleep.  At least then if I woke up I would know I was safe.  It is silly I am sorry I bothered you."  Emma turned away looking defeated but Trip caught her before she could leave and pulled her in to an embrace.

"Come on in."  He whispered in her ear.  She shivered as she felt his warm breath on her neck. His room was full of art supplies and machine parts that were jumbled in to piles only he could understand.  "Let me clean it up for you a bit."  He swept the bed clean and put fresh sheets on.  Emma slipped under the covers in her most modest night gown and left her robe on. Trip settled beside her on top of the covers still dressed.

Emma twisted around and gave him a very chaste kiss "Thank you."

"I love you Emma."  He kissed her back not quite as chaste this time.

She sighed happily. "I love you too. Goodnight Trip." She snuggled up next to him and closed her eyes.

"Sweet dreams my love." Trip whispered kissing her forehead and settling in for the night himself.   

[Nigel Wetherby]

The scientist wrote down several notes. Writing anything and everything possibly interpitable from her responses. Cain blushed furiously and pulled Angel towards him and away from the probing of the Aether Leaguers.
"No she cannot! Er, I mean, she might be capable but she won't be showing you!" Cain growled defensively, not wanting these poeple molesting Angel with their theses.

[Stella Gaslight]

Angel yawned "Cain I am sleepy and I need a bath, can we go now?"  She was just a teeny bit cranky and didn't want to answer more questions.  Angel was rather mad that the people thought of her as a thing rather than a person.

[Nigel Wetherby]

"Yes, that's a great Idea. Let's get out of here." He took her hands and spread his wings, his preparation for ascention inspidred a practical symphony of skritching from pencils on paper. The two angelic beings flew into the sky and headed towards the boheme. Cain hoped Angel had forgotten the questions of procreation, as his heart could take little more of this various oddness.

[Stella Gaslight]

Baths were oh so very good and baths with bubbles that smelled like strawberries were even better.  She sighed and let the water wash away all the grime of battle. Angel was fairly sure the science people meant well  but they did not understand her and Cain.  They thought that somehow even tho they ate, drank, lived and loved just as the scientists themselves did that they were not the same and that made her angry and sad.  They saw the world as some black and white thing but she knew about the wonderful colors and wanted to show them but did not know how.

Cain was waiting for her outside with some fresh clothes. Angel was all bundled up in fuzzy towels so she wouldn't violate the bathroom rules Emma taught her. She came out moments later warm and yawning in her pajamas.  As they walked to their room Angel asked the question Cain had been dreading.  "What is that procreation the science people were talking about and why did it make you all red in the face?"

[MWBailey]

Flag-Captain Richter, Commanding Officer Pro Tem of the REpublic of Texas Airship Ironclad Casemate Monitor James Bowie gazed out of the port sighting window of the bridge of the airship, answering the questions that Dreyfuss had put to him.

"Our capacity here is to provide military aid to ze Boheme per your reqvests to do so, until ze end of ze affair, und ze return of ze Boheme to England; naturally, zis includes dispensation to allow you to attend any state functions zhat arise as a rezsult of the current action, und to provide you vith szuitable uniform. To vjit, let us giff you zis Officer's greatcoat."

I don't need an officer's greatcoat, Richter," Dreyfuss said. "Whati need are pistol and small-artiller-powder for the Boheme's stores, and .36 and .44 caliber balls both for myself personally and for the Boheme's stores"

"Ach! come now, Jaisen, you know you vhill needt it ind St. Petersburg at least! und it has additional mail panels in zhe back und front belly areas, vhich should come in handy in Shanghai -- ve haff sources zat tell us zat it is one big anti-Boheme trap.

Richter made a placating gesture, "Ja, Ok, you vill get all of that powder und shot, it's already on it's vay. It's ok, Jaisen, I am not here to bop you on ze head und drag you off to parts unknown."

"I know zhat you mistrust me, Jaisen, but you know zhat I am an offizehr to zhe bone, und scrupulously loyal to the Marauders und to Texas. I vhill not fail you. You haff my vhord."

Dreyfuss nodded, and asked, i"f I give you an order, will you follow it?"
"Yes, off corrse!"
"Then, leve now and don't come back."
"any order exzept zahat one, ha ha ha. nice try, Jaisen, but i vhas varned zhat you would try zhat," any other, und you know what I mean.No more funny shtuff, Jaisen. I vhill not be put off at zhe end. vhe need your clout vhith the Texians in order to secure our continued employment."

So that's it, Dreyfuss thought, Tehy want to continue with the  Texas government and want me top be go-between, because I serves alongside most of their head people.

Dreyfuss decided to risk it; he would have to play a fast and underhanded game to keep from getting hauled back to Texas permanently, but he felt he could swing it. Besides, he thought, I can't leavethe Boheme unprotected when I have the chance to make sure it has an escort, he told himself.

"All right. I accept, for now. we'll see how it goes at the end. I might not even be alive then;  Who knows?" he said to Richter's shocked expression.

He left wearing the coat, glad of it's warmth in the chill upper air. the Bowie's pinnace blimp ferried him to the other side of teh convoy, and the plank gangway network that surrounded teh Boheme and two or three aether league ships. he disembarked, waved the blimp off, and as it went oiut of sight below the planking, took off teh coat, turned around, and came face-to-face with Elisha.

Hello, Elisha! Guess what I found out about Shangha?

[Nigel Wetherby]

The question was like a solid iron kick to the mental face.
"Erm...The thing is..." Patrick's explaination reverbated through his head. "Er, well, the story is...when a male loves a female...things happen"
"Things?" Angel asked curiously as if he had told a story with a wrenching cliffhanger.
"Well...this is when they love eachother very much, they would..." His explaination was complicated and at some pount he employed Patrick's tool kit. Eventually he sputtered  out a coherent answer to the question, though Angel had to fish the coherency from the stuttering and "Well, you know..."s

[Stella Gaslight]

"Oh I understand now." People made a rather big fuss over making new units of themselves.  When she was in the temple all you had to do to get a new sister was tell the crafts people what sort of unit you wanted and they did the rest.  People making new units sounded much more complicated.  She puled Cain very close to her and gave him a kiss.  "It is bed time now." And she settled comfortably in to his arms for the night.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain looked rather shaken after the explaination, but Angel's look of silent contemplation made things slightly better.
"People copy making sounds really complicated..." Angel said thoughtfully.
"And that was just the explaination." Cain said shakily.

Angel recalled the Makers, silent, stern constructs who outranked the disposers, the tall crow beings created to destroy the evidence of battle. Makers always wore white robes and hovered half a foot above the ground. Their faces were always concealed by the shadows of their hoods, but a singular white, glowing eye always shone though. Angel remembered when she first awoke. A cool hand touched her cheek as a circle of white eyes welcomed her into the world. They sung all at once, their eyes flashing multiple colors as every tune emerged from mouthless faces. They were often seen talking with the bright ones over the nature of the warriors and their interaction with "Father-children." Angel remembered seeing one in her younger days. It was hairy, hunched over, and helplessly pawing at the mud in an attmept to catch a slippery green thing. One of the makers appeared beside her and called the Father-child to attention with a single tune. The hunched being bowed and was presented a sharpened stick.

"To give mother-children the tools to create. To shape their worlds, and to hopefully ascend as we have, into the bosom of the Great composer. They who wrote the song of existance."
Was the only thing she heard the Maker say as it floated beside her, the two leaving the being to catch the frog and afterwards attempt to create or possibly improve this pointed stick.

[Stella Gaslight]

Angel was the youngest, the last one to be created before the great battle.  She never got another chance to speak with the Makers but she hoped that wherever they went they were happy with her and the life she had chosen. Perhaps someday they would come back and times would be happy and full of sunshine again.  Until then she would fight to protect her friends and her Cain.  Angel dreamed of light and song and slumbered peacefully.

Emma slept deeply, Trip's arms were a powerful force against the nightmares.  She dreamed of the windmill gun she had seen in her vision from the clock.  Her dream was so clear she could almost see every part of it.  She watched as it took itself apart and put itself together again.  It made a deep impression in her memory ready and waiting for her to wake up and build.  The voice driving her to create that was only a whisper when she was awake was singing now planting the seeds of ideas in her fertile brain.  In the morning a garden would grow there full of inventions ripe and ready for the plucking.  Emma moved in Trip's arms, a smile forming on sleeping lips.  Tomorrow was going to be a very good day for science.

[MWBailey]

The next morning, the situation aboard the James Bowie was tense, to say the least; Overnight, several coded transmissions had been received from Marauder Fleet HQ in Austin.
The First one read:
Urgent....Eyes Only Flag and Enforcement Commanders...
   Austin, Rep. Texas: Situation in Capital Unstable; Republic Lgsltr met this PM and unan
   voted nonretainment of Marauders, Effect. Immediate. REMAIN IN POSITION, REPEAT:
   REMAIN IN POSITION. Over...
That one transmission, in and of itself, was extremely unsettling. It spread like wildfire throughout the ship, since the Signalman who transcribed it practically shouted it in the Signal Room when he had finished transcribing it and actually read it for the first time. Nonretainment? They were FIRED?! the legislature was not supposed to have met for another entire month!

Richter seethed. Then why did they allow Marauder Command to send the Bowie to the Asian continent? "Leftenant!'
"Yes sir, Flag-Captain?"
"Send a man over to the Boheme, will you?"
"Do you want us to fetch Light-Commodore Dreyfuss, sir?
Richter hissed in irritation. "Do NOT call him zhat anywhere but here on board the Bowie, Leftenant. Zhey have a bad connotation for zhe vord "Commodore" on the Boheme; it is the name given to the Enemy's High Operatives. If you must refer to him by rank, call him by the old, pre-airship rank: 'Overcaptain."
"Understood, sir. Sir, should our messenger be armed and in full kit?"
Ja, Leftenant. zhat vay perhaps he will look official und Dreyfuss will listen. But I wonder; wil it be worth it to "fetch" him, as you say? Tomorrow, or perhaps even later today, we may be recalled to Rendezvous One to consolidate and seek redeployment elsevhere."

[Nigel Wetherby]

 Cain dipped himself into the bath after Angel, letting the crimson and black goo pool at the surface of the water like oil as he drifted off into slumber in the embrace of the warm water.
Cain let his concious melt away into a semblance of dreaming as his head slowly submerged beneath the water.
Cain dreamt of being covered head to toe in blood, he cast a malevolent shadow over a terrified Jennifer. A painful stinging riddled his back like a thousand bees stinging him at once. He doubled over and hit the familiar deck of the boheme. He dreamt of a song and a feeling as if he was being torn asunder from something that had been troubling him like a parasite. When a mote of light shone in the darkness, he opened his eyes to see the full extent of the light's beauty. Reality snapped itself back into place just enough for Cain to recognise that he was staring up at the celing light through the murky water of the tub.

[ShredsnPatches]

Jen was paralysed. They were coming for her - coming and she couldn't move or run. Her arms lay at her sides, helpless. No weapons, no hope. Screaming, gibbering creatures ran at her, and she could do nothing as her friends suffered and died around her. Or - and this was worse - as they stood back up and tore her apart.

Jen screamed in her sleep.

[MWBailey]

A Short time before teh flurry of communiques from Austin, Dreyfuss had been carried back to the gangway to the Boheme by the Bowie's pinnace blimp. Dreyfuss had found himself face to face with Elisha, and Dreyfuss had said, "guess what I found out about Shanghai"...

"It seems that, according to Richter's sources (He's sort of an odd one, is Richter; we've been rivals for years. He's the CO of the Bowie, now), Shanghai is completely controlled by a Commodore  who was aboard that Russian airship in that last battle. Seems he has the whole town set up specifically to capture the Boheme and enslave its crew." Dreyfuss paused, then added, "but I'm not completely sure he was completely truthful; It'd be just like him to say something like that in order to try and scare me into coming back with him. He should have known it woudn't work."

Elisha thanked him for the information and said he would bring it to the attention of the Captain. Dreyfuss thought, huh. he already knew all that, I'll wager, as  Elisha moved off, presumably to find the captain.

It occurred to him to tell Elisha his thoughts regarding Elisha and Ella, but figured it would only lead to strife between her and the younger man,and he didnt want to be the one to kill what was developing between them, or what could develop, if they'd just stop trying to be so...whatever. Oh, well, its not really my business, he thought as he moved off toward his cabin. and what sleep he could hope to get.

Just then, a figure walked up quickly and came to a stop at the foot of the Gangway. "AHOY! THE BOHEME!" the figure screamed in a Texian accent.Dreyfuss, sensing an "off" situation, quickly and silently opened his cabin door and slipped inside, the just as silently closed the door.
The messenger repeated, "AHOY! AHOY, THE BOHEME!"

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma woke early and was momentarily confused as to where she was.  It was not every day she woke warm and comforable in a jumble of limbs. Emma slipped from the bed gently to let Trip sleep. As soon as she could get her hands on paper she started drawing the weapon she had seen in her dreams.  As things got more complicated she grew more confident. This would work the first time she was absolutely certain of that.  Emma started to make a supply list some things would be easy to get but others she would have to make herself.  Patrick was still asleep but as soon as he woke she would present the beam cannon to him, It was too large to make on her own.

To her complete confusion Angel woke alone.  "Where did you go Cain?" She called up and down the halls.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain emerged from the tub, spitting out a squiring stream of batwater that had collected in his workings during the slumber. He remembered the stone gargoyles in france when he looked upon the cathedral of Notre Dam. After releasing the last of the water into the tub and pulling the drain plug. He lazily dried himself and slid on a clean set of clothes he borrowed from Patrick's wardrobe. He seemed rather at a loss as to how he might explain his dream. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the smooth metal heart he recieved for christmas.
"You are Brian O'Landry..." He read aloud.

Patrick awoke with a start, dreaming of an army of giant ravens pecking at a dead cold one made him rather disturbed.Jen's screams summoned him to Jen's room. He saw the screaming girl and ran to her side, shaking her from her terror-induced screaming fit. Jen snapped into reality to see the look of a concerned looking Patrick. His touch tingled, specifically the touch of his deus arm. The sensation calmed the shaking girl. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
"Oh Patrick, the dreams are getting worse..." She whimpered.

[MWBailey]

The poor sergeant had been standing out in the heavy dew of the evening, Shouting "AHOY" till his voice literally gave out. Either no one was able to hear him, or they were deliberately ignoring him. He was not sure , exactly what to do. Then, he realized that HE had actually done his duty already, having addressed his address to th enearest thing to a representative of the Boheme he could find: the ship itself. If both the ship and its crew deigned to ignore his address, the sergeant reasoned, there was therefore no reason to continue to shout for attention, since he was now without an easily-audible voice. As the air about him lightened, and the morning began to break in all it's misty paleness around him, He performed an about-face, and stepped off back to the James Bowie.

Suddenly, across the Airship Convoy, the sound of boilers awakened from their enforced slumber echoed across the massed airships. The steadily-quickening "clank...clank...clank... "of teh pressurization and superheater popoffs indicated that the James Bowie was, for some reason, making a head of steam, preparatory to getting under way. Sudddenly, the HURRRROOAAARRRR, like a slowed-down explosive report, of the main steamdome let-in managed to awaken even those asleep on the Boheme, on the far side of the convoy...

Things had remained tense on the James Bowie.

At 6:47 AM, a flurry of individual short-burst transmissions came over the aether, and then the Bowie was being hailed and questioned by the surrounding airships, as to why the Bowie was suddenly Increasing Steam and letting-in the main steamdome; Was the Bowie included in the General Regroup Order? Did a Marauder gunship commander really bombard a Texas Ranger outpost overnight, thinking it was poised to capture and ransom Marauder assets? The Bowie did not deign to answer beyond a cryptic "we are examining Unit communiques on that matter."

[MWBailey]

Added to Richter's overnight frustration was the fact that Dreyfuss had not only refused to return to the Bowie, But actually ignored the hail from the sergeant with the message. Add to that the fact that the latest transmission called for the Bowie by name, along with fifteen other vessels in various ports and coordinates around the globe, to "Urgently Make all possible haste to Rendezvous One," ordered even to leave non-essential crew who had not returned from shore leaves (or other activities) behind! It was intolerable! Dreyfuss had escaped his grip again!

At 7:01 AM, Long after the messenger's return to the Bowie, Richter had personally aether'd Austin to confirm his orders; he was told, in no uncertain terms, that while he could be extremely helpful if brought back, Overcaptain (Light-Commodore) Dreyfuss was  under no circumstances to be removed from the Boheme, and that the Bowie must rendevous as per the general order IMMEDIATELY. Richter, being a man of Duty as well as ambition, gave the order to make all possible steam and get under way by 8:00 AM.

At 7:34 AM, the mooring lines were cut, and the gasvalves rotated to cause the ship to rise above the massed formation of the convoy.

At 7:45 AM, the Bowie broke formation, made 1/2 Flank Speed while still in the shadow of the massed airships, very nearly collided with an Aether League zeppelin that was on detached guard, and hightailed it out over the Mountains, much faster than an underslung Ironclad was supposed to be able to travel.

Dreyfuss, having come out on deck with a few others of the crew when the Bowie's steam dome had roared-in, was once again a lone Texian in a foreign land. He pondered that idea as he stood on deck and watched the dawn, then went back to his cabin, .

"It's probably better that way," he said to himself, and smiled.

"Light-Commodore," he said, derisively, and shut the door...

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma knocked on Patrick's door only to find an empty room so she went on to her own room and found him with Jen.  "I am sorry to bother you but I need to build something that I can't handle on my own.  I understand if you are busy but I could really use the help."

Angel found Cain in the bathroom. "Silly Cain the bathtub is not for sleeping in." She ruffled his still wet hair and gave him a good morning kiss.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss gave the greatcoat a visual once-over, hung it on a hanger, and hung it from the rack to work on it. Once he got all that fancy-schmancy braid and glittery brocade rank off of the high collar, cuffs, epaulettes, and breastplate, it looked like any other double-breasted, Dark-blue, high-collared military trenchcoat with light-blue piping. Eeesh... . Oh, well, he would leave it that way, for fear of exposing the hems to ravelling.

Maybe a bit fancy for regular on-board duty, but it would be handy in a fight, what with  those concealed ringmail panels and all. And so many pockets...and no slouch for diplomatic or "away" duties either. He just hoped he wouldn't look too much like a pirate in it.

Thus having gotten the coat ready just in case, he left it on the rack, and walked out, closed the door, and strolled down to the galley to find something for breakfast.

[Nigel Wetherby]

"I am very sorry, Emma but I think I should be with Jen right now. She's really shaken up about something." Patrick had never really turned down a session of engineering with Emma, it felt rather strange but at the same time it felt right.
"Perhaps later?"He proposed. Emma nodded and left the couple to recooperate.

Cain replied to Angel's kiss with a kiss of his own, he brushed her cheek with his hand, letting the feeling of her soft skin bring him fully back from his rather ethereal semi-concious state.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss thought over his fitful sleep after returning from the Bowie the night before. He was not sure exactly how he felt; after ducking into his cabin and ignoring the sergeant on the gangway, he had slept fitfully, and then came the two short nightmares; in the first, he re-lived the Mad Anthony inquest, right up to the sudden arrival of the fisherman who was out in his skiff on that terrible day, and had watched, open-mouthed in awe, the duel between the two airships...

How the Mad Anthony had not precisely closed with the Privateer, but actually put herself abeam to the path of the dark-painted zeppelin, and how the zeppelin had apparently managed to "clubhaul" (suddenly drop anchor and turn about the axis thus created, a veritable impossibility for an airship, but one which the fisherman insisted did occur), just as Dreyfuss had described, and then giving an odd-numbers broadside, followed by the even numbers; visibly, even from the skiff, using bar and chain shot, which, the fisherman said, chopped her gasbag off from the deck "like a flowerhead from a daisy," first throwing one lone figure off in one direction, and then the bulk of the hull suddenly diving the other way.

"And then you rescued the lone survivor," said the judge."yessir, yer honor, though I didnt know it at the time. Right dazed he was, and I could tell, completely horrified. kept sayin, 'they're all dead, just like that! My fault!' An' that poor leg of 'is, broken and dislocated it was." Then came the finding of the court of inquest that he was not, in fact, to blame for the outcome, the use of bar or chain shot having for decades been considered "bad form" for airship duels.

Then, like a bad dream within the original, the offer of a Flag-level Protocol job, a gesture that made it obvious the Marauder High Command thought that (1) he was unemployable as a field officer, and (2) trapped within their machinations of creating a Mercenary Haven in Texas; they never suspected that he would resign, deigning himself unfit for Elite Military duties with the High Command, and wanting nothing more than to strike off on his own, alone, where no one would die under his command again. The melodrama sickened him, now. He had been such a selfish, idiotic fool. But the Marauders were worse; they had tried to create a haven very like the old, legendary island town of Tortuga, out of a coastal  nation.

And then the other, premonitional, one; him, running along a long, cold, frozen street, greatcoat flapping behind him, his boots clopping like a cantering horse, trying desperately to find a way into the building in which he could hear his crewmates dying, accompanied by inhuman vocalizations that froze the blood; finally climbing up and shattering a window with the hilt of the saber, and then following the screams to the scene of the most macabre and horrific carnage he had ever seen..."NNOOOOOOooooo! Never AGAIN!!!" -- and then, awake, shivering, to the sound of a steam-dome Roaring In, somehow knowing it was all a bad dream, and nothing more.

On his way from his cabin to the Galley, he encountered Emma, who (unknown to him) had just failed to get help for her engineering project. "Good Morning, Miss Emma," he greeted her; she looked a bit peaked, he thought, so he asked, "are you all right? you look like the anvil got up and ran away," recalling an old saying that his foster father had often used. "Maybe a hot coffee will make the day seem brighter? Maybe some of the others'd already be there," he said, to boost her mood (why, he wasnt entirely sure; he supposed her attitude disturbed him.

[Stella Gaslight]

It took her a moment to figure out she was being spoken to.  Her mind seemed to be over flowing at the moment. "That would be lovely, thanks. This is going to sound very silly but I saw something in my dreams last night.  Something I know I have to build.  It was a giant heat beam cannon that could be used to take down great swathes of cold ones but I can't make it on my own so I asked Patrick for help.  He was with Jen and the poor girl looked like she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, once I saw her a felt like an utter cad for asking he leave her side. Jen has done so much for me and I just want her to be happy.  I was trying to think what I could do for her but I am drawing blanks."


Angel walked around Cain as if sizing him up  "Today I am going to teach you something.  Today you are going to learn some war songs and some healing songs."  Balance was important slip to far to one side and you risked not being able to use the other.

[Nigel Wetherby]

"Right. Keeping things balanced." It was an odd feeling cain felt. As he was being instructed on a being whom he had to educate on how to use a spoon on the ways of combat and healing. He felt lost and a little confused as to what she told him. This put a great number of things in perspective.
"So this is how Angel felt." He thought.He wondered if he would soon be taught her language of songs.

[Arabella Granger]

Ella was pacing. Pacing was a habit she seemed to have inadvertently inherited from Dr. Armistead, who has always done so when he was stressed or thinking very hard. She marched up and down the floor of her cabin, one arm dangling while the other reached over to bring the very ends of her unravelling blonde braid to her mouth, another nervous habit of hers. This is ridiculous, Ella! she scolded in her head. You can't feel this way! Now's not the time or the place or...or anything! How could you have been so stupid as to let yourself...fall for him like that, when you know it's foolish and inconvenient and ill-timed and...and impossible! That's what it is, really, it's impossible! It's...

Ella stopped pacing and sank onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. She sighed heavily. What am I going to do?

-----

Cadens smiled as the door opened. "Come in, my boy," he said proudly as his protogee stepped into the room. No one would ever replace Giles as a son to him, but even Cadens had to admit this young recruit showed promise. He had all the qualities the Queen was looking for in one of her men--fierce loyalty, courage, a bit of recklessness, yet enough common sense to not do anything too risky, and knowledge.

James Tanner walked up to where Cadens sat and nodded in respectful acknowledgement. "You summoned me, sir?"

Cadens nodded. "As I'm sure you know, lad, our enemies are approaching Shanghai as we speak. The ambush has failed, but that is of little importance now. They will not prevail."

His young protogee nodded. "No they will not."

"I do not doubt that you understand fully what is expected of you."

"No, sir."

Cadens nodded and smiled, the expression sliding over his face like butter over freshly baked bread. "One thing you may not know, James, is the identity of one of our enemies."

"Sir?"

"One of the women on the APF Boheme is an old acquaintance of yours, is she not, boy?" He smirked as the lad shot him a blank look. "Eleanor Armistead, I believe she is called. Formerly called Eleanor Townsend?"

Jimmy had to search through his memories to recall that name. A memory stirred...

A thin face appeared in his mind, tangled blonde hair lying matted about her face and thin arms hugging herself for warmth. Her eyes gazed up at the slate-grey sky as her teeth chattered. A thin grey cotton dress and a grimy shawl, more acurately described as a handkerchief, were the only things protecting her from the elements.

"Bloody freezin',"she murmured.

Young Jimmy nodded and sank onto the cobblestones beside her, leaning his back up against the wall of the alleyway where their little gang had set up camp for the time being. "Yep."

"Think Jessy and Polly managed to snag anything for us?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe Bertie did, he's always pretty good at beggin'. And if he didn't, y'know that Bill and Kay've probably stolen somethin' good."

She nodded as the form of a girl appeared in the alleyway. It was Kay, the strongest girl in the gang and one of the best at stealing. "Hey, Ella!" she shouted. "C'mon! I need help carryin' this stuff back!"

Jimmy looked up and met Cadens' eyes. "Little Ella," he said softly.

Cadens nodded.