"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[bluestocking]

"I fear it is business of a most pressing nature. There is a deadline... I wish I could tell you more, but alas, our employer wishes to maintain a degree of... discretion. You know how it is." Lakshmi waved a hand languorously.

Saleh nodded. "I see, I see. What, exactly, do I stand to gain from this? It is no small thing you ask."

"Twofold, sir. Firstly, how much would it enhance your reputation to be able to say that, by your will alone, a small ship traversed some of the world's most dangerous airspace unscathed? What truer proof of your puissance, your dominion, could be offered?" He smiled at that. "Secondly..." and now her voice was like a whip, sharp and sure, "I'd hate to be in a position where I was obligated to inform my great-uncle that you hold the debts of honor you owe my family in such low regard that you could not grant his darling niece such a simple little request?" She batted her eyelashes at him winsomely.

"You would, of course, be compensated for any munitions you supply," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Who's your great-uncle?" Ben whispered to her.

"I'll tell you later," she muttered. "Now, sir... have you any other questions?"

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick wondered why Emma made such a commotion over the fact that he heard a voice inside a box. Though when he thought about that, it seemed rather strange to him. 

Upon hearing sentiments of lab rats, the image of electrodes in undesired places flooded his mind. Uncertainty shook his confidence. Her bright smile and general skipping slowly changed his shaky wince, to a confident smile. He had every faith in this girl, though he wasn't terribly sure why that was. He prodded the box curiously, "Is there someone inside there?"
"Awww, look! the monkey think's theres a tiny person in the magic box!" Ridiculed George. Patrick growled "Yer in line fer a serious 'modification' ya snarky wad of cables!"
"Grease-coated chimpanzee!"
"Boxy fop!"
Emma smacked Patrick in the back of the head with a rolled up set of motor schematics, and turned a few dials, transforming George's voice into that of a lusty barwench.
"Fine, I'll make nice with the Grease monkey...."
"Rhomboid wussy" Retorted Patrick under his breath.
Emma tossed the paper at him once more.
"I'll be good"
Patrick decided he didn't quite like the voice in the box. Whoever or watever it was, it was a bit of a jerk.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Saleh's greasy smile disappeared as her persuasion moved onto what could just about be seen as a threat. He frowned slightly. Ben found himself not breathing, and had to make a conscious effort to begin. Saleh did not seem like the kind of man to be threatening, however well-guarded the words. I hope her great-uncle's someone important... thought Ben. Saleh took a breath, and broke into an entirely false smile.
'You have my word, girl. I will give you whatever munitions you desire. But call my debts repaid. I want no more bother. I am a businessman!' He called over an attendant in Farsi. The attendant listened to his words, then moved off, hunched. 'My men will see to your needs. You need not fear any bandits over the Kush. And let it never be said that there is anything that Saleh cannot do!' He laughed fatly, but Lakshmi noted a slight unease in his eyes. And smiled at it.

[Jasper]

Fabrice look at the box, the only indication she was shocked was her eyebrows arched slightly. She looked from the origin of the voice to Emma, and then a smile played across her lips. "I hear it. Him. I don't think you're crazy."

She turned back to the large pan of rice and vegetables, stirring the dish and lifting the large wooden spoon to her mouth to taste. She grinned to herself as she heard Patrick continuing his argument with the disembodied voice.

"Will we have to put up with this buffoon the whole trip?" said George, and both Emma and Fabrice would sense he was trying to goad the Irishman.

"Y'better watch I don't lamp you!" Patrick said, rising to the bait as colour tinted his cheeks. "You great f-.."

Patrick made a surprised sound around the wooden spoon Fabrice had placed against his lips, and his eyes flicked to her face which was set in a mischievously stern looks. He took the small amount of rice offered to him, distracted from George as he contemplated being manhandled by both of the women. There was always something more relaxed about ship's women, which probably had something to do with the unwritten rule of 'don't wear a corset on ship, it will hurt'.

"What do you think?" the Italian asked.

"Mmhm." he started, ignoring Emma's badly stiffled giggles. "Nice. Better than nice actually, lovely."

"Good." she said, giving Patrick a playful wink. "It should be ready soon, but we can keep it hot as long as it takes your other crew to return." She looked around the kitchen. "Where is Jack?"

[Doctor Trakov]

The sun was setting, the hot air shimmering against a blood red sun.
Most of the people in the village had run or surrendered when they heard gunfire, but there were always an unlucky few.
The emply houses were raided, and a vehicle was procured.
A rather battered 1845-model Peregine steam tractor had been found, along with a cart.
The new supplies were loaded on, and the mechanic, Koreolov, worked on the dusty engine, muttering about rusted springs and leaking valves.
The Count was again silent. He had been getting more of these strange spells, especially if he had done something violent and unpleasant, which was often. Lelyushenko
 looked at the cab of the tractor. The thing looked servicable, he supposed, but worlds away from what he had seen in Belogravia.
Twenty years, perhaps. They had not bothered with time. The Count had said that time was not the same in the place in the portals, and they should be able to get back about a week after the Retreat.
He sighed.
This desert made him unhappy. So far removed from the green hills and imposing mountains of his homeland.
Still, alexandria was perhaps only 3 hours away, and that would mean a trip across to Athens, then on to Paris, then London. What was in London that the Count wanted? He knew enough to know that if you wanted something, London was the place to go, but other than that, nothing. No-where had he seen a level of technology capable of replicating the Eye of the Czars.

[bluestocking]

"I have always heard that you were a man of affairs, a man with great influence. I had hoped you would live up to that reputation - but sir, you have exceeded everything I have heard!" Lakshmi laughed merrily. She leaned against Ben familiarly and reached inside his jacket. She pulled out a small wash-leather bag, which clinked gently when it landed on the floor in front of Saleh. "We'll need ten cases of 37-mm shells and a half-hundred five-inch grenades - not that I doubt your mastery of the skies, but it never hurts to be prepared. I trust that shall serve as a down payment; you shall receive the balance on delivery."

Saleh picked up the little bag and tossed it gently in his palm. "I'm a fool for doing this, you know. You Johari are too clever by half. Still... it is no small thing, to be known to have mastery over the skies of the Kush." He caught the bag and tucked it away. "It will take me a few hours to arrange what you need. Get out of my sight! I have business to attend to."

Lakshmi rose to her feet and bowed, gracefully, over steepled hands. "Namaste. Sir, it has been a pleasure."

"Out!" he roared.

Lakshmi and Ben hurried towards the corridor and (comparatively) fresh air.

[Stella Gaslight]

They were fighting just like her older brothers Tomas, Walter, Nicolas and Mathew used to whenever they felt it was boring. She felt rather glad that George lacked the body to get in to a westing match on the galley floor.  "Boys."  Emma said exasperated and maybe just a little homesick. She rubbed her ears, the skin that had been covered for so long felt strange and sensitive now that it was exposed to air.  George was not reacting to things like she had expected.  You would think he would be overjoyed at the widening of his world but George acting like an utter prat. She wondered if he was still mad at Patrick for hugging her. She shook her head. Well he was just going to have to get used to not having her full attention all the time. 

Their was a knock at the door it looked like her apology had arrived.  "George could you please at least pretend to be civilized and leave Patrick alone for a moment while I go answer that?"

"Any thing you say Emma dear." She was sure he was being completely sarcastic.

"I am going to hold you to that."  She walked out of the galley, through the lounge and down to the round brass door that was rather full of large mumbling man.

Emma listened to his halting apology and pinned him with a cold glare.  "I realize that you had not expected to be attacked this morning but the mess you made of our supples was inexcusable.  You do realize that you could have exploded or lit yourself on fire before you even reached the ship and you may have even poised yourself with the way you just tossed the chemicals in there."  From the way he sputtered and the blood drained from his face she guessed not.  "You were very lucky and if I were you I would get away fast if you want to stay that way."  He ran down the gangplank so fast he almost fell swearing to never to have a thing to do with redheads ever again.

Emma walked back to the galley with a smile.  Telling him off wasn't as visceral as smacking a pirate with a pan but it still felt good. "George why don't you go find out where Mr. Dervish wandered off to?" A few moments silence would be a welcomed thing.

[Nigel Wetherby]

 George gave an insubstantial nod and walked out to search for the guest. Sureley he could not have gone far...
Mr dervish was not in fact far at all.
A din of battle could be heard in the guest quarters, Mr Dervish's feet and hands were a blir, as a hapless bag of sand attached to the celing of the room boinced about like the Euvula of an opera singer, A final, misplaced roundhouse kick resulted in the sandbag flying through the door, passing through george's prescence, and slamming into the wall behind him, coating the wall in a layer of find sand.
George thanked whatever omnipitent being there was up there that he suffed existential 'shroedinger's cat' syndrome.
He looked back at the man who wiped sweat from his brow, and slung his sweaty towel over his shoulder. Taking his jacket up off the floor.

Patrick was fascinated with the aetherphone. "So, it picks up on voices of beings trapped in between two realities?" He didn't quite understand, but it amazed him no less, this room had officially become the most absorbing on the ship, Delicious food in one sode of the room, and marvilous machinations on the other.

[Stella Gaslight]

 "Well It picks up everything actually.  Ship and dockside wirelesses, telegraphs and ticker tapes if I am near the lines, all sorts of data from Babbages  and some rather frighting voices that I try not to think much about.  If it floating in the aether I can tune in to it but it takes time and I haven't quite figured out how to narrow the scope down.  George seems to jump around in frequency so I wouldn't want to some how cut him off. Really I don't fully understand how this works either.  A lot of our brake troughs have come from hunches and wild speculation and if it works we don't look at the whys as deeply as we should.

I am just glad I figured out how to stop it from altering the signals it picks up.  When I was running some of the first experiments I managed to scramble wireless communication's over most of Athens.  I am still kind of amazed that they didn't keep me in prison.  I am still banned from the city but I at least got them to repeal the whole being shot on sight thing." Emma frowned it had been an accident for goodness sake and she had apologized and even offered to up date and code their systems so it wouldn't happen again.  They had still tossed her out of town.  Some people just did not understand scientific progress.   

"If you would like I could share some of my notes with you.  There are some gaps in them but it is a good place to start if you want to widen your knowledge of the aether."  She felt a little flare of anger for the notes she had to leave in ashes aboard The Star.  All that knowledge gone when she finally found some one to share it with.

[Mercury Wells]

Sensi has asked Daniel to pick up two persons from the Croydon Aerodrome,

"Their names are Mr. Dyke & Mr. Kabuki they are friends of mine. Drop them off at Khabul with a bit a of a scene, by the way, your airship has been superficialy altered to resemble a 2nd class passenger/merchant vessel, in the hold is some cheap cargo, sell it if you can.
-----
At the Areodrome, Messrs. Dyke & Kabuki (is dressed in a suit) arrived seperately and are waiting in the departure lounge.

After their names were called they both made their way to the waiting ship escorted by a  crewman as their belonging are loaded on board.

(Not much happened on the ship after leaving Croydon. Kabuki spent his time either slowly translating Shakespear's plays & into Japanese, reading Sherlock Holmes with a view of translating them aswell at a later date. Or just talking to everyone onboard trying to perfect his grasp of the English language).

After with a bone jarring bump, a slightly tatty airship "The Lame Canard" lands, Daniel, Dyke & Kabuki exit the gondola and suddenly there is a argument in progress outside.

"My good man, We paid you hard cash for passage to the far east and you decide to dump us here in god's name why?" asks Mr Dyke. "Well I've changed my mind 'aven't I" replies Daniel. "You are not a honourable man Captain and neither are your crew" Mr Kabuki says hesitantly in a soft strong voice.

"Look...my fine gentlemen either you pay me more cash, or...you'll have to find another ship!", Daniel spits on the floor infront of Dyke & Kabuki.  Kabuki tenses himself, ready to launch himself at Daniel, but a slight shake of Dyke's head, Kabuki just softly punches Daniel in the mouth, who falls backwards spiting blood (food colouring & icing sugar powder). Daniel roaring in anger, the armed crew running from the ship to stand behind him.

"Hodges", Daniel shouts, "These Gentlemen will be disembarking now, please unload their baggage". Hodges walks back slowly to the hold, climbs in, then after 2 minutes starts to throw luggage out onto the floor.

Both Messrs. Dyke and Kabuki walk slowly to their stuff, wave to a few natives who were watching the scene to help with the carrying to the nearest reputable hotel.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick's face nearly cracked in half with a wide smile at the mention of schematics for aethercraft, he was always eager to take in new knowledge, and this would be a regular trove! What oil-blooded engineer could refuse!? He gripped the edge of the table. Emma knew he was excited and smiled at his eagerness.
"Just wait here while I get them...." She left to her room to fetch the plans. Patrick tried his best to calm himself down, and managed to bring himself back down to earth, by the time he had achieved this, the shematics landed before him, his composure was tossed to the wind and he grabbed the plans, flipping through them like a child skimming over the newest penny dreadful or certain dentists looking over their dentistry bills and how much their clientelle owed them.

Emma only snickered "What do you think of my schematics?" Patrick turned to her, salivating just a bit. "Marry me," He said simply. "Marry me and bear me automitonically augmented children." He continued, holding the diagrams and findings close.

Emma smiled. "Not today smallfry!" She giggled. The two began to buzz with ideas and theses.

[(null).exe]

As the two muttered animatedly over schematics, ideas and theorem, an out-of-place warbling buzz began to filter through the other noises aboard the airship, becoming louder and louder until it came close to unbearable, the mechanically-minded aboard knowing instantly it was the sound of an Airship's drive fan with a badly slipped rotator bearing and the distressed shrieking whine of the overtaxed steam engine trying to keep it spinning.
A sudden loud PING!pop!hisssssssssssssssssss! and a loud yelp of pain, were coupled with the thankful cessation of that terrible metal shrieking. After a moment, a cheerful man's voice, modulated by the slight hissing crackle of a voice amplification device sounded, "Ahoy Airship...uhhhh...Boheemie? This is the Æthercutter. I'm in a bit of a bind here, and would gladly take a bit of assistance, if yah can spare."

Struggling to keep abreast of the Boheme was the strangest Airship ever. Not one, but two gas bags, asymmetrically sized and canted toward each other, sandwiched a railed deck. on the top rear of the deck was a raised platform styled (or maybe simply reclaimed) from sailing ships of 50 years earlier, complete with an old meter-wide ship's wheel. Also at the rear, hanging below the deck, was a cabin, sized for 1-3 people. Poking up out of the deck on either side near the midpoint of the deck were the tops of two steam turbine engines, driveshafts attached to two massive fans, far one still spinning quickly, the one nearest the Boheme smoking lively. At the very aft of the deck were a pair of steering vanes that definitely looked like they used to be the foresails of a schooner.
On second look, it became quite obvious that this vessel had been cobbled together from old waterships, then mated to that quite odd pairing of angled gasbags and oversized fans.

Leaning against the inert engine, an attractive man in his mid-20s, Scotch-Irish pale, flying goggles hanging around his neck, stood ruefully rubbing a lump on his freckled forehead, other hand clutching the large conical amplifier. A soft brown leather band-collar vest, buttons extending along his collarbone then extending down to his waist, covered a once white shirt, now dingy and smeared with grease, sleeves rolled then shoved up to expose more pale, freckled skin. Black cotton pants covered in leather chaps were tucked into knee-high boots, and a work belt, replete with spanners, hammers coils of wire and even a revolver tucked in amongst the tools and gadgetry, hung jauntily at his waist.

He grinned at the onlookers gawking at his less-than-standard craft, holding the cone to his mouth again, "Heh heh heh... I ran into a couple of unfriendly fellows as I was trying to cross the Kush, and they managed to put a few rounds into one of my engines and drive fan. Any chance you good folk could toss me a line an tow me? I can work in exchange for yer help."

[Jasper]

Everyone had appeared on deck almost as soon as the terrible shrieking noise had started, and everyone looked surprised to varying degrees. Patrick and Emma still had papers in their hands, Jack's hand was at his weapon and Fabrice was still clutching the wooden spoon.

"The Captain is going to kill me.." Patrick heard Emma mutter under her breath, but the utterance aside there was a ringing silence. Everyone seemed captivated by the ship that looked like it was held together by positive thoughts alone. The stranger grinned awkwardly, having hoped to at least of been sworn at by now. The silence was almost painful.

"Well," came Fabrice's accented voice, startling several heads to look her way. "I'm sure I can stretch the risotto to feed one extra."

Small smiles crept onto the crew's faces, and the uneasy tension was eased, though there still an underlying sensible suspicion of the man who had just accosted them.

[bluestocking]

Dusk was creeping in as Ben and Lakshmi emerged from Saleh's dwelling. Ben looked around the seedy street; the denizens of the  tumbledown hovels were beginning to stir.

"Shall we get out of here, then?" he asked. Lakshmi nodded, and they hurried toward the more reputable part of town.

They were skirting the fringes of the market, returning to the airfield, when Ben pulled Lakshmi to the side of the busy street. "All right," he said, "An explanation, please. Who is your great-uncle? What's a Johari? How do you know someone like Saleh, anyway?"

Lakshmi sighed. "Very well. I was afraid I'd overplayed my hand. Let's continue walking; it'll make it harder on any eavesdroppers."

They continued to stroll as she related her tale.

"My father, from whom I take my surname, is descended from minor nobility in Wiltshire. Technically, I'm the Honorable Miss Marleybone-Smythe, although I don't use that title unless I need the leverage it brings. He came to India to make his fortune and met my mother - and that's where things get interesting."

"Oh?"

"My mother is a member of a sub-group of the Kayastha clan. She can trace her ancestry back directly to the ancient kings of northern India and, legend has it, several gods. Their rule even extended up here, to Kabul and beyond. When the old kingdoms fell, our clan, which consisted of scholars, warriors and scribes as well as kings, went... underground. The Johari family still rules northern India - but as crime lords, not kings. Saleh respected my great-uncle's name because he knows he's a big fish in a small pond."

"...and your great-uncle is a much bigger fish."

"Quite." She walked a few steps in silence. "I'm sorry, Captain. I shouldn't have surprised you with this."

[(null).exe]

"Well," came Fabrice's accented voice, startling several heads to look her way. "I'm sure I can stretch the risotto to feed one extra."

Clapping his hands together and pointing excitedly at Fabrice, the man called across the gap, not bothering to use the amplifier now the the space between vessels was closing, "Not to fear, not to fear! This wonderful craft is my home, and home must have both its necessities and its comforts! For the former, may I offer up my stocked larder for the sustenance and enjoyment of all, and for the latter, I have several cases of unopened bottles from a very fine year, as well as I believe...yes I think I do...ah, I have a couple of tins of a quite fragrant tobacco for those who affect a pipe. I was saving them for celebrations, but what is a better chance to celebrate than being snatched from the jaws of death?"

He broke off suddenly, bounding athletically up to the steering deck and spinning the wheel. As the old ship's wheel spun, a series of gears and pullys caused the foresail "rudders" to twist the ship, lining it up parallel to the Boheme with a bare 10-foot space between the two craft. The man was obviously quite the pilot, at least with his own craft.
"It would not do to crash into the very people who've just launched merely to save me!" He called out jauntily as the craft rotated.
Now that the Æthercutter was no longer on an intercept course with the much larger Airship, it was slowly falling behind, it's one fan unable to keep up with the other craft's fully functional engines.
The man strode confidently to the narrowest point between the two craft, directly across from Patrick, Emma, Jack and Fabrice. He grinned and touched two fingers to his head in a salute.
"Corwin Lucius Linkletter, the Third. At your service. An' if there's any trouble with the port authorities over this, I'll set em right." He dipped into a bow, slowly sliding past them all as the Boheme pulled away, giving the effect that he was bowing to each of them in turn, a neat trick that none of them could shake the certainty was completely planned.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Ben grinned. 'Never mind, it got the desired effect. I'd just about had enough of that unsavoury fellow. Now, is there anything else we need to do before returning? We've been out all day and I dread to think what they've got up to.'

()

[Stella Gaslight]

I am a criminal, I stole the ship, Captian Hudson is going to toss me off the ship for sure.  Oh bother, am I a pirate now? I don't want to go to prison again.  Repeated over and over in Emma's mind.   But the Æthercutter was going to crash in to them if she hadn't done an emergency launch to get them out of the way.  George had never judged a trajectory wrong before.  So they had scrambled in to the air ignoring the angry Persian shouts from the wireless and found the strange shuttering mass that was Æthercutter.

Emma thought Capitan Linkletter was being entirely too calm about this but that could have been her own panic influencing things.  "Can you land safely now with our help? We can talk about supplies and aid later I kind of stole this ship and would like to land before the Capitan comes back and I get in even more trouble." 

[Jasper]

Fabrice, who had been quite calm and ever so slightly motherly since she'd set foot on the ship now seemed to have found her element. Her cooking spoon was tucked into her belt as she headed for the stern and the towing winch there, all the time keeping an eye on the small craft that was quickly losing speed. Patrick and Jack soon followed her and Emma kept the ship on coarse, making a large, slow circle in the air, with the intention of docking again.

"Can your craft maintain height?" Fabrice called out to the struggling pilot, who emerged from behind the sterage to shout that he could. "Then we can tow your craft." she said, turning the winch and letting a few massive chain links clank to the deck. "Are you ready to secure it?"

"Yes!"

Patrick and Jack wordlessly fell into place, one turning the winch and the other pulling the length of chain toward the side, giving the Italian some leway. With a swing that would have mildly impressed a professional hammer throw, the tossed the foot long winch hook across the space of sky between the larger Bohéme and the small Æthercutter , which landed across one of it's sides with a loud thump. Corwin was quick to attach it to a similarly large metal loop at the bow of his ship.

All aboard felt the slight jolt as one ship began to tow the other, but the drag was minimal. The crew gave the other ship around twelve feet of cable to keep a safe distance, with Corwin saluting his thanks.

Fabrice turned to thank Patrick and Jack, before heading in Emma's direction.

"Well done!" she said, adjusting the controls.

"Grazie. May I dock her?" Fabrice asked, an excited glint in her eye. "I'd like to get a feel for her. All hoping your Captain will find use for my skills."

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma was glad to hand the controls over to Fabrice. In the fading light it was getting harder for her to see and without George in her ears she didn't trust herself to bring them in safely.  She frowned if George was going to continue speaking to everyone she was either going to have to make another set of aetherphones for her ears or find some way for him to broadcast himself all over the ship.  Emma had not realised how much she relied on having the extra pair of eyes.

"Watch out for the port throttle it sticks a bit other than that it is pretty standard. Thanks for the help.  I will gladly sing your praises to my Captain if I still have one after the stunt I just pulled." The wireless nearly exploded with angry Persian shouts.  Emma didn't have a clue what was being said but she knew it was bad.   

She picked up the hand set and tried to talk to them. "Hello this is the APF Bohème. I know we just broke regulations but it was an emergency.  The Æthercutter was on a collision course with our docked ship."  The yelling increased in volume.  Emma put her hand over the receiver and spoke to Fabrice.  "I am going to go get George to translate. I think I am making things worse.  Hopefully once we land Capitan Linkletter will be able to set them straight. If not I don't have nearly enough to pay for all the fines we have wracked up with this jaunt."  Emma sighed she almost preferred being attacked by pirates than having to deal with the port authority.

[Nigel Wetherby]

 With a last, pained grunt, Patrick pulled the winch with the last turn available by physics.
He admired the workings of the Aethercutter. "Nice work ye got there, albeit improvised, it still looks good..."
He reached a hand into one of the shell-holes. "WOOF! what did ya do ta get on the wrong side o' these blokes? These are nautaloid rounds!" He slid one of the forearm-sized shells from the hole it had lodged itself in.
The whole shell seemed to curl like the spiral of a wrench. "These babies are designed ta rip yer motor ta bits! Be glad she didn't take out yer steerin'! Ya'd be findin' yerself to tha himalays bafore ya could say 'flanksteak!'" He gave a long, low whistle as he observed the damage.
"OOOh, you aint comin back from this one with just a wrench....one of tha rounds sailed right through yer motor! Ye'll definateley need a new one! Not ta mention yer hull's been crushed in so far it's flattened yer carborator! and the pistons've fone and popped like sausages!"

[(null).exe]

Emma thought Capitan Linkletter was being entirely too calm about this but that could have been her own panic influencing things.  "Can you land safely now with our help? We can talk about supplies and aid later I kind of stole this ship and would like to land before the Capitan comes back and I get in even more trouble." 

"Oh my yes." His voice drawled a bit, giving the impression of someone who'd lived in the Western Territories of the United States for some time. "It wouldn't do a-tall to have yeh Captain fret about his ship." He grinned again, charmingly. "Ah never meant to bother you good folk in the first place, Ah thought the turbine would hold until Ah could dock at the spire, but as yeh kin tell, Ah wasn't so lucky."

With a last, pained grunt, Patrick pulled the winch with the last turn available by physics.
He admired the workings of the Aethercutter. "Nice work ye got there, albeit improvised, it still looks good..."

"Well thank yah." The man shook one of the net ladders, also repurposed from a watership, that extended  from the deck to the upper gasbag. "Ah was fortunate enough to...gain ownership of an old schooner a few years back, and since everyone knows water travel is a thing of the past, Ah ReEngineered her into this Device." His arms spread to take in the whole craft, which was obviously his baby. He turned back to Patrick and winked. "She may not look like much, but she made the Kush run in less than twelve days. I've outrun Imperial Airships, not the local airbags, mind you, the big London boys."

Partick reached a hand into one of the shell-holes. "WOOF! what did ya do ta get on the wrong side o' these blokes? These are nautaloid rounds!" He slid one of the forearm-sized shells from the hole it had lodged itself in. The whole shell seemed to curl like the spiral of a wrench. "These babies are designed ta rip yer motor ta bits! Be glad she didn't take out yer steerin'! Ya'd be findin' yerself to tha himalays bafore ya could say 'flanksteak!'" He gave a long, low whistle as he observed the damage. "OOOh, you aint comin back from this one with just a wrench....one of tha rounds sailed right through yer motor! Ye'll definateley need a new one! Not ta mention yer hull's been crushed in so far it's flattened yer carborator! and the pistons've gone and popped like sausages!"

"Ah, lets talk about that a bit later." He chuckled a bit self-consciously and rubbed the back of his spiky red hair with a greasy hand. "Spare parts a plenty Ah've got, it's another Device-minded individual to help me make the repairs Ah'm missin'. Ah've run into trouble in the past trying to get just any yokel with a strong arm tah help me. The end up breakin the smaller parts or hurtin' themselves trying to lift tha big ones."

[Dr. Ed]

Jack had kept to himself for the most part, save for the occasion when a strong arm was needed to lift this, or pull that. The entire time he had been preoccupied with the thought of his old master, his mind flipping back and forth between segments of his time in the temple. He had been the greatest student of the Varmapayatt, learning more in his three years in Nepal than the temple monks who trained with him had achieved in a lifetime. Many said that he had learned the art too quickly, that Feng Dai Shen was too hasty in releasing him before years of discipline had solidified his abilities -- it was therefore an unpopular decision of the master to send Jack down the mountain, back to the world. Jack never knew why his master chose to do this; he was left with the simple words, "It is time."

Jack was in the middle of his 109th pull-up on one of the hanging bulkheads when Fabrice walked in. "Am I... interrupting?"

Jack finished pulling his body up, released, and gracefully dropped to the ground. His body, a paragon of fitness, combined with his ruggedly attractive features was a sight to behold, even for Fabrice's, whose regard towards him was purely professional. The way every muscle on his body seemed to be honed to peak physical condition without excess bulk was almost statuesque. If Michelangelo had stood in her place, he would have called David a poor sight by comparison. Jack looked at her, toweling himself off, and shook his head. "Not at all, Miss Greco."

"Fabrice... please."

Jack smiled. "Of course, Fabrice. What can I do for you?"

She looked at the grit on the floor and the damaged sack with traces of sand still in it and smirked. "You were angry at the ballast?"

He laughed. "I have a lot on my mind. Tell the captain I'm sorry about his sandbag."

"Your form... it is excellent, no?" She stepped forward, passing through the doorway of his cabin. "I wish it that you would show me some of it."

Jack looked at her and nodded, an amused smirk creeping across his face. He shrugged and approached, her expression full of anticipation. "Stand up straight... Good. Now, legs shoulder-width apart... Bend your knees slightly. Good. Now, bring your arms up in a deep breath... in through your nose... and bring your arms down as you breathe out through your mouth. Tighten your stomach while you do this..."

"Am I doing it right?" She looked at him awkwardly, and he took her gently by the small of the back and pushed in, straightening her back. "Good. Now, deep breath in..." He took her by the hands and helped her raise her arms in the correct form. "Good..."

She looked back at him, her arms raised, her face flushed red. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in every contour of his face. Her body arched towards him, her lips parted slightly, and her eyelids lowered almost to a close. Jack instinctually leaned in his head lowering to meet hers, moving closer and closer until...

"'Ey, Jack, we could use a hand with the-- Oh... Oh my... Excuse me. I didn't know you had... *ahem* Company..." Patrick looked almost as embarrassed as Fabrice, who immediately slipped out of Jack's hands and walked away without a word. Jack cleared his throat and fetched his gray undershirt lying on the bed. "You were saying?"

"The... ah... ya know, I think I'll just find someone else, thanks." Patrick backed away quickly, leaving Jack to stand alone in his cabin, sighing. "Damn it."

Meanwhile, under the guise of a romance, the young assassin was one step closer to accomplishing her mission.

[Jasper]

When Fabrice emerged on deck, carrying the lided pan full of risotto, Emma in tow with a pile of earthenware plates and a dish of sizzling herby sausages, the red hint to her face could be attributed to the heat of the kitchen rather than her close encounter with Jack. The psuedo-Italian allowed herself a brief moment to contemplate her previous and next moves ans she kicked a few empty crates together into a makeshift table. Slipping seamlessly back into character she banged her wooden spoon against the pan and called out "FOOD!"

The smell of saffron amoungst other herbs was not lost on the people in the port near the Bohéme, and Emma could see a few envious looks being thrown their way. They made her feel smug and worried, which Fabrice seemed to notice.

"Do not worry." she said encouragingly, ladeling rice onto the firsr plate. "Anyone who recognised the smell of zafferano will assume this vessel is not to be troubled. More money means more guns, si?" she handed the plate to Emma. "Did you contact the authorities?"

"Oh yes," said Emma, gesturing with the hand holding her fork, "George helped me translate. They weren't happy, but we managed to talk them out of fining us. Lucky, I say."

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi smiled. "I think we've accomplished all our errands; I've got all of Miss Lighton's, ah, groceries, we visited your friend, and Saleh has been dealt with. We should get back to the ship, though - unpleasant lump of lard that he may be, his agents are remarkably effective. I'd hate for them to arrive at the Boheme before we do. I don't know how Miss Lighton would deal with them."

"Good. I must say, this hasn't been as exciting as Cairo - hallelujah - but I'll be glad to be in the skies again."

"When are you not?" There was humor in her voice, and warmth.

"I was born in the air, you know." Ben looked longingly up at the skies. "I don't think I set foot on land until I was six or so. It's... my home, in ways I can't describe."

"I envy you." She played with the hem of her scarf. "I have always felt like I was trapped between two worlds - neither truly Indian nor truly British, not an aristocrat, quite, but not a denizen of the underworld, either..."

Her voice trailed off as they passed the gate of the airfield, waving to the guard.

"...I've never felt like I belonged to anything, truly." she finished.

"I know what you mean." The timbre of his voice surprised her. "The skies are my home, but that means no country, no allegiance - no boundaries placed upon me, but no-one I can turn to for support, either. Until now."

She nodded, a smile chasing away her pensive mood. "Until now."

They came to the bottom of the docking tower where the Boheme was moored. A strange ship, looking more like a century-old sailing vessel than a sleek, modern airship, was tied up next to it.

"That wasn't here this morning." Lakshmi commented.

"Interesting design." Ben observed.

As they started to climb the steep, ladder-like stairs to the gondola, they were assaulted by smells.

"Saffron?" Lakshmi wondered.

Ben, however, noticed something else entirely. "Someone's been running my engines!"

[Stella Gaslight]

"The Capitan and Doctor are back." George said sounding a bit annoyed he couldn't partake of anything other than the smell of the food.  Everyone else looked eager to meet them Emma looked like some one just signed her death warrant.  Patrick was a bit concerned.  "Do you want me to go with you Em?"

"No this is my problem. Capitan Hudson is a good man I am sure he will understand."  It was clear from her voice that she felt the exact opposite.  She ran down to the door just as Lakshmi was opening it.  Emma bowed her head unable to look them in the eye, clearly worked up. "I am so sorry Capitan Hudson this is all my fault. I betrayed your trust." 

Ben raised his eyebrow.  "What happened?" 

"I stole your ship.  See Patrick and I were looking at my notes."  She noticed there confusion.  "Patrick is a combat engineer, a very good one.  He turned up this morning and with Mr. Fulmineus laid up as he is I needed the extra hands. Well anyway we were talking when George came in and told us that a very odd craft was going to crash in to us unless we could launch quickly.  So I ordered an emergency take off without getting clearance first.  The odd ship I am sure you saw on the way in is Æthercutter.  We were able to tow it to safety but I made the port authority really mad.  I was able to talk them out of fining us but I think they want us to leave soon. This morning Lilli got in to a fight and vanished, really vanished even George can't find her.  Mr. Dervish wants to book passage with us and Miss. Greco is an excellent pilot.  They were both a lot of help today so please don't be mad at them.  This whole mess is entirely my fault.  I never meant to get you in trouble I swear. I am sorry."   Emma was near tears.

"Calm down Emma."  The voice was kind and close but sourceless.  She took a deep breath.  "Thank you George."  She looked up at them and smiled weakly.  "I am sorry. It has been quite a day."