"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi shook her head as if to clear it. Emma, when worked up, could be very hard to follow. "I'm sorry, what? Who are these Mr. Dervish and Miss Greco, and what do you mean, Lilli vanished? Did she run off?" Her stomach churned at the thought of Lilli wandering Kabul alone at night; capable a fighter though the Countess might be, it was no city for any stranger, man or woman, to venture through after dark.

"No, really, she disappeared into thin air! She was having a fight with the man bringing us supplies and he wouldn't let her leave the ship so she got really mad and then she just went poof! Like I said, George couldn't find her anywhere!"

"Egad," Ben said, and "Gracious!" echoed Lakshmi. "Did she look like she... went poof... on purpose?" he asked.

Emma nodded. "Oh, yes. She was quite deliberate about it. She said she'd had enough, and she thanked me for the hairpin I gave her, and then she did something with that funny ring she always wears just before she vanished."

"Very well, then. We'll have to assume she knew what she was doing." Ben sighed, then got to what was, for him, the heart of the matter. "Now, about taking the Boheme for a jaunt; was there any damage to her?"

"No, not at all! In fact, between us, Patrick and I have already managed to improve the engine efficiency twelve percent!"

"I can't fault you for coming to the aid of a distressed traveler, and if there was no harm done..."

"So you're not angry at me? Really?" He nodded. "Oh, good. I was so worried! Well, you must come meet the others - Patrick and Mr. Dervish and Miss Greco, I mean - and did you get all the ingredients I asked you to find?" Lakshmi gingerly held up the sack of potentially lethal chemicals. "Oh, hooray!"

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick had seen Emma unloading every little detail about the past 2 hours to the man, who seemed rather amused by her expounding. Then he heard mention of his name.
The captain looked around "And which one is this...combat engineer?"
Emma pointed to Patrick who was slicing open the chassis of the Aethercutter, trying to fix the damage from inside.
The captain turned back to Emma. "Hmmm, he seems rather....zelous when it comes to repair....Is he alright in the head?"
Emma nodded "From what I can tell, yes, he's very enthusiastic about working aboard the Boheme' and he's amazing! He built a Ray gun from what was left of the heat vents!" The captain smirked. "Really? Is THAT so?"
Patrick felt the captain's eyes on him and waved just a bit.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Ben took his hand. 'Patrick, I presume. Apparently you are quite the engineer! I would enjoy having a good talk some time. I worked as an engineer for quite a while, but I largely made it up as I went along. It's good to have some fresh hands on board, especially if they can squeeze a few more horsepower out of the engines. And a ray gun, you say? Damned fiddly things, never held with anything unless it throws lumps of metal at people. Still, in good hands they are quite a tool.'
He turned to Fabrice. 'Miss Greco? A pleasure to meet you. What brings you to the Bohème?'
She smiled charmingly. 'I had heard that you intend to cross the Kush. I was wondering if you could use a well-trained pilot. No offense intended to your skills, signore.'
'Hmm. I expect that that would be useful.' He thought over her possible motives, and decided that it wouldn't do any harm to trust her. 'Good. Greco... I know the name. No Sicilian links, I hope? It'll come to me. Now... Mr Dervish, quite a name! Ever been to Turkey?' Jack said that he had passed through it briefly on several occasions. 'My apologies for entering your delightful ship when you were away. I'm looking for passage. I understand that I will be able to work my way? I have the funds if this is not an option.'
'No, no, that will be fine. Though we are getting rather crowded around here. Still, a full crew, and a good one at that, will be useful.'
Ben turned, and noticed the elaborate apparatus on the table. 'What's this then?'
'This, Captain Hudson, is an aetheric transponder. Professor George Lewistine, at your service. Apologies for not having made your acquaintance earlier... I was at somewhat of a disposition.'
Ben laughed out loud. All remaining traces of doubt about Emma's sanity faded away. 'George! Why, this is quite something!'

[Nigel Wetherby]

Ben took his hand. 'Patrick, I presume. Apparently you are quite the engineer! I would enjoy having a good talk some time. I worked as an engineer for quite a while, but I largely made it up as I went along. It's good to have some fresh hands on board, especially if they can squeeze a few more horsepower out of the engines. And a ray gun, you say? Damned fiddly things, never held with anything unless it throws lumps of metal at people. Still, in good hands they are quite a tool.'

Patrick returned with a firm handshake, a smile across his freckled, scarred face. "Ya presumed right, sir! When it comes to offensive aethercraft, I can work with the best of 'em! I can make every turret on the bloody ship into an Aether ray oscilliation unit, given i get the proper parts! as for horsepower, provided ya make a good lubricant and cross a few wires....Wait../you said extra hands...does this mean I'm part of the crew!?"
The captain smirked. "Well I maybe I implied that, depends on the inerpretation though...What do you say, mister O'landry?"
A smile crept across the young man's face, he began to bob up and down like a paint-can mixer. "EEEEYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA" He ran in a circle, arms high in the air, waving like a maniac and doing a rather foppish jig, after roughly three minutes of the display, he regained composure, straightened his overalls, tucked in his shirt, and calmly approached the captain. "I humbly accept the position, sir."

[(null).exe]

Leaning against the wall at the back of the group, the final new addition to the Boheme's occupants stepped forward and extended a hand, “Corwin Linkletter, at yah service Cap'n Hudson. Sahrry about aimen for yah fine vessel earlier, mah steerage gearing stripped clean at tha last moment and ah couldn't redirect mah remainin' drive fan in time tah avoid. Luckily, tha lovely Miss here's quick thinkin,” he indicated Emma with a smile and gesture, “well, her actions saved us all. If yah need any further help takin' care of those yahoos downstairs, Ah'd be happy ta take care of it to repay yah tha troubles Ah caused.”

[Jessica Butcher]

"Ya presumed right, sir! When it comes to offensive aethercraft, I can work with the best of 'em! I can make every turret on the bloody ship into an Aether ray oscillation unit, given i get the proper parts! as for horsepower, provided ya make a good lubricant and cross a few wires..."

"That sounds dangerous," Jessica remarked to Oliver as they loitered, avoiding speaking to the rest of the uncomforably fast-growing crew, as readily becomes the habit of the shy and suspicious. "If you ever bothered to ask my opinion," he replied testily, "I would say Mr. Linkletter's the one who merits worrying."
"What, you think he's a spy?" she breathed excitedly. "I didn't say that. You're always misinterpreting me." "What about the Italian? There's something about her that rather scares me." "All lady pilots are like that. Disagreeable lot, indeed." "Excuse me?" Jessica raised a surprisingly sinewy fist in a typically melodramatic threatening manner. "Next you say such a thing, vanilla face, I'll bust yer cogs right good!" Social anxiety was making her very faint Cockney accent come back, a matter about which Oliver had always been curious.

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma was glad to hear George being polite as she knew he could now if she could just get him to stop riling Patrick up they would be set.  Speaking of Patrick his majestic arms flailing gave her a case of the giggles. 

"Didn't know the monkey could dance." George chuckled.

"Oh hush. Let's just have a nice dinner please?"  The last thing she wanted was another round of shouted insults spoiling the meal she and Fabrice had worked on.

"I don't know if you will get to enjoy it. I think the bird people are here." He must have wandered off while she was talking that really bothered her.

"Bird people?"  Emma was picturing people dressed up with the strange bird beaked masks she had seen in Venice. 

"Why don't we go inside for a moment?  It is getting rather loud out here."  They had been attracting attention but then again havening a rather animated conversation with a box did that.  It was odd having to worry about being overheard it made Emma feel somehow exposed.   As soon as she could get her hands on some more very pure silver she would make another set of aetherphones.  She was rather surprised she missed George's constant presence in her ears.  Maybe he was more justified in his crankiness than she had first thought. 

George waited until they were safely inside the empty bridge before taking again.  "You remember the pigeon in Cairo?" The blush across her cheeks answered for her.  "Well two men named Dyke & Kabuki got in to a bit of a scuffle and were booted off an airship earlier. The names are far too close for coincidence. Don't you think?"  He was far to smug for Emma's likening.

"And you didn't tell me this before because?" Emma put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"You and the monkey were playing nice.  I didn't want to disturb you."  Their was some wistful fondness there but weather it was directed at her or at his own memories was hard to determine.  "I did keep an eye on them just in case they decided to wander this way and now they have."

Emma bit her lip and nodded slightly nervous.  "Well I guess we will have to go tell the Capitan then."  Ever since the shock of Capitan Black's true nature any thing remotely cloak and dagger related had made her uneasy. 

"They don't have The Star's mark on them.  I have been checking anyone that comes near the ship."  Emma smiled at this thoughtfulness and went back on deck. 

She taped Ben on the shoulder."Capitan Hudson there are two gentlemen hanging around the gangway that I think want to speak to you."

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Oh dear, thought Ben. That sounds ominous.

[Nigel Wetherby]

After the regaining of composure, Patrick walked calmly past the invisible force that was George, and spoke into the open air, having passed them during his little preformance, he had heard the comment.
"Perhaps you would like to say that to the face who can so easily, and Willingly transform your only medium to the psysical realm into a toaster!"
"You dont have the rocks, monkey!"
"Insubstantial Ingrate!"
"Freckled orangutan!"
"Kitchen applaiance!!"
"Grease monkey!"
"Your mother was a toaster, and your father, and outboard motor!!!"
"At least my parents walked upright!"
"I'm an orphan!"
Emma tossed a loose bolt (jarred from Patrick's toolbox due to his activity) square in the center of Patrick's forehead, and with an icy glare in no general direction, she managed to stare down an invisible being.
"Both of you, apologize, now.
Patrick and George reluctantly apologised.

[Jasper]

Having made her aquaintance with the captain, and another distraction seeming to have emerged, Fabrice set about serving up risotto to every eager hand that outstretched itself in her direction. Once she'd served up several plates, She found herself restless to start flying, but knew there were a few important matters that had to be attended to before they could leave Kabul, not least the authorities.

So, with a plate of risotto in hand, she wandered across the deck, peering in a crate here, inspecting the ship, as well as periodically stopping to eat her meal.

"Nice looking ship." came an already familiar voice from behind her.

"Yes." she said, pulling herself back in from where she'd been peering over the side of the ship. She met Jack's eyes with a playful smile.

"Will you be able to fly this thing with that in tow?" he indicated Corwin's mismatched vessel with his fork.

"Ah yes. It will be no problem."

There was a moment of silence between the two that was anything but awkward, each enjoying the warm flavours of their meal and the tense charge between them.

"Do you take a pipe, Jack?" the Italian asked.

"On occasion."

"Then if if the flying is uneventful this evening, you will join me?"

Jack studied her face, and wondered breifly how he hadn't noticed her take a step towards him. "It would be a pleasure."

[Stella Gaslight]

George had gone quiet again after his outburst and Emma was fairly sure he was spying on the Capitan and the bird people.  She was going to have to talk to him about that.  Now that other people could hear him George was going to have to relearn a lot of the social rules he had let slide. Emma knew a lot of it was her own fault for not insisting on decorum but it was hard to keep being formal when he was always near. They would have to work at it tougher. 

She gave Lakshmi an apologetic smile. "I am sorry about George.  Normally he is much more pleasant to be around.  He just seems to have more insults then sense at the moment and he keeps antagonizing Mr. O'Landry.  I am hoping he calms down after a while."  Emma rubbed her shoulder she was tired and sore but it was the kind of sore that came with a feeling of accomplishment.   "Thank you for bringing me back what I need. I hope it wasn't too much trouble." 

Patrick had happily devoured his dinner and was back flipping through the schematics.  Watching him pore over them like they would vanish the moment he looked away gave her the strangest stirrings of deja vu.  Emma could remember doing the same with Tomas and Walters journals on railroad and steamship engineering when they were still apprentices.  Her mother had never approved of her havening such a mechanical bent and was likely to scold her if she was caught reading them. It had the opposite effect than what her mother was hoping for she taught herself every thing she could about science.  Enjoying both the knowledge itself and the fact that it was forbidden.  It had been that way for many years before acting stole away science's place in her hart and she had almost forgotten it entirely until it pushed her right back in to science's arms.  Life took oddly circular paths sometimes.  "I am sorry I should have introduced you before. Patrick O'Landry this is Dr. Marleybone-Smythe. I think I told you about her earlier."
_{I forgot to post the first paragraph before sorry about that}

[bluestocking]

With her fancy title and hyphenated surname, Patrick thought that the elegant Anglo-Indian woman would be too hoity-toity to shake his grease-stained hand, but she surprised him by taking it in both of her own and smiling warmly.

"Very pleased to meet ya', ma'am!" he said. Looking down at heir joined hands, he realized that there was a broad smear of what looked like dried blood across the inside of her wrist, which had been hidden by the cuff of her embroidered tunic until she extended her arm. He tried very hard not to stare, and failed utterly. Lakshmi followed his glance, and laughed.

"I apologize, Mr. O'Landry; I fear that's a hazard of my profession, just as a bit of engine grease smeared on one's right cheekbone is a hazard of yours." Abashed, he wiped a hand across his face; it did, indeed, come away greasy. "Now, I ask that you excuse me; I fear the captain might need some support dealing with our unexpected guests." She swept away in an unusual melange of smells, sandalwood and carbolic and whiskey and blood and - Patrick sniffed the air - was that clock oil?

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

Deciding that he couldn't avoid it any longer, Ben headed out onto the gantry to meet the unexpected guests. The two men stood side by side. One was large and stocky, and wore a midnight blue double-breasted suit. He was of Oriental origin, and presumably the bodyguard referred to, as the suspicious lumps beneath his jacket attested. The other man was equally tall, but incredibly thin. He had a thin moustache that sagged at the ends around his narrow mouth. Unlike his companion, he was Western, with pale mottled skin. Despite the humid heat, he wore a tweed jacket and a bow tie and showed no signs of discomfort. They made no attempt to approach him, so Ben walked towards them. His outstretched hand was ignored. 'Mr Dyke, I presume?' The man nodded, and raised an eyebrow. There was an awkward pause.
'Oh, yes... of course... ahem. Oriental fantails are rare in the wild...?' I would be an awful spy, cringed Ben inwardly. The slim man nodded to his bodyguard. 'Indeed. My cousin breeds Grey Pearl fantails. I must introduce you to him.' He took Ben's hand in his. 'Now, Captain Hudson. About our message...'

[Doctor Trakov]

The Peregrin was now just rumbling into Alexandria.
They came to a stop outside a small booth. A gate impeded them.
The count turned to stare into the booth, his mask conceled by the dimness of the interior of the lorry's cab.
A fat, sweaty man looked back, his thinning hair scraped across his shiny head. He leaned forward.
"Why is there a barricade here. Open it." spoke the count.
"Only if you pay, and I don't like your attitude." Replied the fat man, with a heavy accent.
"I see. Are you ab-solutely sure, sir?" The Count placed a rather pointed stress on the "Ab".
"Don't try and threaten me, mate, I can leave you out here all day If I want. Now cough up, or go away." The man looked triumphant, or as triumphamnt as someone who looks like a beachball made of old inner-tubes can.
"So that is the case. Regrettable." The count uttered these last words before his arm whipped out, grabbing the fat man by a roll of fat. He pulled him to his mask. The man's eyes bulged with the strain and in terror. Sweat dripped off him. "Now see here, sir. You are going to let us past, or I will kill you right now, without hesitation. Do you understand?" The fat man babbled a string of egyptian and english, all apologies and yesses.
"Good man. I'm going to let you live, but if I see a single guard, just one, try to apprehend me, I know the first place I'll go.
The fat man gazed into the impassive dark glass, and the slightly tarnished brass.
A little black cat mewed.
He was thrown back into his booth with inhuman strenght, and he heard the old truck trundle away.
He lay there for some time, thinking.

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi drifted up behind Ben. He wondered, briefly, how anyone dressed in the vivid colors she favored - today's burnt-orange ensemble was rather subdued by her standards, but still sparkled with gold-thread embroidery at cuffs, neckline and hem - could appear so invisible when she chose, or how anyone could walk so silently on the open metal grating of the Boheme's lower deck. He only knew she was there by the touch of her hand at the small of his back, and the faint, familiar whiff of medicinal, mechanical and fragrant oils. Kabuki and Dyke did not seem to register her presence at all until she spoke.

"Perhaps, sirs, we might better discuss this inside? I am certain that whatever intelligence you bear, it is better not displayed to the gape-mouthed pleasure of the denizens of Central Asia's least reputable port of call." Her voice was husky and low, pitched intimately. As her limpid gaze transfixed him, for the first time, Mr. Dyke seemed to find his starched collar a bit too tight, his tweed jacket too heavy for the climate. Kabuki seemed affected by her regard as well, shifting nervously in his loose and bulging jacket. Sheepishly, they acquiesced, and followed her and Ben aboard the ship.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick watched miss smythe walk away, she was a strange woman indeed, she fascinated him somehow.
He smelt the mark she had left on him, the scent was surprisingly inviting, his face pinkened a bit with a hint of a blush.
He quickly straightened his train of tought, distracting himself with notes. Slapping himself with the cold truth of the fact that he was 16, and she was a bloody doctor. Soon the faint crush slowly drifted off. He assumed it was just him being childish. The simple crush slowly washed away liek a footprint in the tides.

Patrick quickly returned to the findings.
"Emma these findings are brilliant!" He called out ion amazement. "Portable aether generators...Bloody amazing":

[Stella Gaslight]

Emma was jealous of Lakshmi's easy grace.  She seamed as smooth and intricate as spindly legs of her gurney. Emma felt like the hulking factory machines back in London, blundering and grinding along where the other woman glided.  She pushed those thoughts aside knowing they were petty and childish.  Still she wondered if anyone had ever watched her leave with same sort of adoration that was written plainly across Patrick's face.

Grateful for the distraction and praise Emma looked to see which prototype these schematics were
for.  She stepped back looking pale.  It was version twelve the final build that she had distroyed when she left The Star.  "No, I burned them all." But the evidence was written plainly in her own careful handwriting.  It had been tucked away all this time curled and waiting to strike like an asp.  Her shoulders gave a little shiver remembering how she had nearly lost her notes in the struggle with the life balloon over the desert. If it had fallen in to someone else's hands well the thought made her feel sick.  "It is too dangerous I should do it now."  Emma whispered reaching for the paper and then stopped.  Patrick was watching her with a frown. 

"Patrick I should have never let this leave the design stage.  It is a more controllable version of what happened to George when the first generator exploded.  It puts people in the aether and can take them back out again. If any one got a hold of this no one would safe again.  George can't stopped I have tried every thing I could think of but he would walk right through like it wasn't even there.  Despite his moods he is a gentlemen and he has never used anything he has learned to harm people but if some one with looser morals had the same opportunity.   I don't even like to think about that. I think I have to burn it I could never forgive my self if that happened but it could be George's only hope of coming back."  Emma realised there was a third choice that could keep it safe but still usable to bring George home. If anything happened to her he would be able to build it on his own and use it for the right reasons she was sure of that. "Can I trust you with a part of this Patrick?" 

[HAC]

........
Underwood walked directly to Bucers. He had sucessfully stolen the gem and there was no chance whatsoever of any suspicion.

He strolled up to the bar

"Shandy."

Underwood stood there, nursing the odious shandy. Not a popular drink here, and he could see why. Suddenly, he felt a tug at his elbow. He turned and saw a scruffy young lad standing beside him..
 "Got a message for yer, guv. the man whose heart you can't hear says yer gots ter follow me.."
The lad turned and headed off. Underwood straode after him, keeping him insight, but traying not to appear to be actually with the lad.
They moved through the twisting streets of Underworld London, turning left and right in a maze of back alleys and sidestreets.
Finally they came to a non-descript tailor's shop.  Lounging around oustide the shop were some tough looking bully-boys, doubtless thugs in Hiram's employ.  The lad ducked into the shop, Underwood in tow. He spoke a man seated behind a large steam clothes press..
  "Oi then, guv, me and this bloke needs to talk to "Uncle" "
The man nodded, and pointed to a fitting room in the back.. Underwood and the lad stepped in. As soon as they had entered and closed the door, the tailor pulled a lever, releasing a cloud of steam from his press. Just audible under the hiss, was a low rumble as gears and pumps began their work.
  The floor of the fitting room shuddered, Underwood looked at the lad, who just smiled and winked back at him. Underwood could feel the room rising.
After a short time, the floor shuddered again, and the door opened....
   "Out ye's go then" said the lad "Oi'l wait 'ere for ye's"
  Underwood stepped out of what,  to anyone in the room outside, would have seemed to be the door to an oridnary closet. The room he entered was dark, lit only by the sodt glow of gaslights, no windows broke the expanse of mahogany panneled walls. The carpet was oriental, and exquisite, and the furnishings were of the best.  Acrss the room, seated behind a large deak was Lamont.
  "Ah, my dear Underwood, I assume you have completed our little task? Come sit, then and let us see what is what"
Underwood took a the proffered seat, and pulled a small balck velvet bag from an inside pocket. He placed this on the desk and pushed it slowly towards Lamont. Lamont took it, and opening the drawstrings, dropped the gem, still in its gold setting, into his left hand..
 "Excellent, work, and well done too, there has been no news or suspicion aroused.. Forgive me, though, I must be certain. This implies no mistrust of you, but with stakes as high as they are, one must be certain."
  Lamont reached back and pulled a bell cord. After a moment another door opened, and a small bookish man in a white frock coat entered, pushing a tea trolley, on which rested strange devices. The little man took the gem and deftly removed it from its gold and diamond encrusted mount. This he laid on the table, and placed the ruby into a clamping device. He then opended a door in a brass framed glass box, which sat directly under the aperture of a tube attached to rather sinister looking device. This device was attached by thick cables, to a series of Leyden jars sitting on the bottom tray of the trolley.  The man handed Lamont and Underwood pairs of dark goggles and spoke in a thick accent.
  "Pleeze, if you vould be puttink on the goggles, I vill proceed vit ze test"
Lamont and Underwood complied. The little man put on his own goggles, made some minor adjustments, and pulled shut a knife switch.
For a second nothing seemed to be happening. Underwood was aware of a sharp smell, rather metallic and harsh. Then the sound began, a soft, high pitched whine that was not loud, yet seemed to penetrate to the one.. The tube glowed, and a thin ray of actinic light shot out and struck the gem.
The gem began to glow, and then to vibrate. A nimbus of pale red light began to form around it. Suddenly ther was a sharp "CRACK", and the gem seemingly disappered, surrounded by a glowing sphere of hard red light, that seemed to pulse as strange colours moved across the surface of the light.
In an instant, all was dark and quite, as the little man threw his switch closed.
  "You may remoove ze googles, now, please" he said.. Lamont did so, and looked over at the man with an inquiring look..
"Oh yes, thees is indeed the true crystal, evun bettair, zan we could have hoped" He removed the gem from the apparatus, and handed it back to Lamont, almost reverently. This done, he left the way he had come.
   Lamont looked at Underwood and smiled. "Well done indeed, my friend.. And now for payment"  He reached ito a drawer of the desk and took out a small leatherbound wallet. This he handed to Underwood. Inside the wallet was a letter of identification, and a key.
  "This letter will vouch for you at the Bank of England. The key is to a deposit box, in which you will find an envelope containg bearer bonds for the amount agreed to, drawn against and redeemable from the Bank of England."
  Underwood tucked the wallet away. Lamont smiled, and took the gold setting the gem had rested in.."You may have this, a small bonus, as it were. The boy will take you back to Bucers, and a few sturdy chaps will follow and see that no trouble occurs along the way. You have my master's thanks.
Should yo need to contact me in the future, a glass of shandy served you at Bucers will always have our attention. Good day to you, then.."\
  Underwood shook the offered hand and turned to the door he had entered from. He opened it and stepped into the fitting room. The lad was there, and as the door closed, he pushed  a panel.. More noises followed, and then they were back in the tailors shop..
  Underwood stepped out, into the street.. He was rich, richer than he could have hoped for. He had money, and more importantly, a way into the powerful organization that ran Lower London.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick looked down at the plans, then up at her, then down back at the plans. A smile crept across his pale face.
"Why, I'd be honored to guard such amazing secrets of science and technology!"
Emma admired his enthusiasm, she handed him some of the voalatile schematics.
"Remember, dont let anyone else get their hands on these...Can i trust you?"
Patrick saluted her with three fingers to his forehead. "Ya can count on me miss Emma! I'll guard 'em with me life!"
Emma smiled, "Good"

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi led the two strange men to the relative privacy of the lounge and busied herself making a round of drinks while the others arranged themselves in the scattered club chairs. She brought the tray to a convenient table and perched on a chair herself, arranging her features into a pleasant, diplomatic mask perfected after years of social functions.

Ben leaned forward. "Gentlemen. You send us a message by, shall we say, extremely unconventional means, accusing one of my crew of treachery. Now, you show up on our proverbial doorstep, luggage in hand. What intelligence have you to divulge?"

Dyke fidgeted with his brandy-and-soda. "Well, Captain, you must understand... this information was obtained in... what was your apt turn of phrase... unconventional means? Yes. As for our sources, well... you must understand... there is a degree of confidentiality..."

Ben had no more patience for this cloak-and-dagger balderdash. "Out with it, man! Tell me, or get off my ship!"

"It's her." One finger extended unerringly at Lakshmi.

She blinked, then laughed honestly. "I, sir? I fear you must be mistaken! I came aboard the Boheme in search of swift passage to India; as for why I stay on, my reasons are my own. I must admit that I am uncertain as to this voyage's true purpose or the identity of its mysterious benefactor. Rest assured, though, the last thing I would wish is for harm to come to this ship, her captain, or her crew."

"You deny it, then, madam? You have not been making contact with members of the criminal element, in an attempt to slow and even sabotage the journey?"

Lakshmi looked genuinely confused. "Which members of the criminal element might those be?"

The Englishman stuttered. His companion looked sideways at him, a significant glance, then sprung over the table at her. Surprised, she was quickly overwhelmed. Disconcerted by this sudden violence, Ben was about to leap to her aid when he realized the man had a gun to her head.

"What's going on here?" he demanded.

"Well, Captain," Dyke said, "We tried to do this the easy way, but you are proving far too uncooperative. I fear that I shall have to insist that you stand down, or the lovely young lady dies."

Ben looked over at Lakshmi. The gun seemed huge next to her head, the muzzle nestled against her dark hair. Oddly, she seemed calm. She caught his gaze. Play along, she mouthed silently. Find out what you can.

He dropped his hands. "Very well, then. Might I ask your purpose in doing this?"

The man shrugged. "It would terribly inconvenience our employer were your mission to be completed. It's nothing personal, I assure you. Now, if you'll be so kind as to chart a new flight plan back to London - or, indeed, anywhere in the world that strikes your fancy, except Shenjiang - my compatriot will be more than happy to release the girl. If you refuse, of course..." he shook his head. "It would be such a shame. She won't be nearly so pretty, afterward."

[Stella Gaslight]

As soon as the paper was tucked out of sight Emma felt like she could breath properly again. She quickly gave Patrick a nervous hug that consisted of her flinging her arms around him and blushing.  "Thank you" she said looking him more in the left shoulder than the face.  "I leave you alone for a moment and you go and hang all over the monkey."  George was back again and sounding shaken.  "I didn't mean anything by it.  You over sized baby."  Emma snapped tired of his crankiness.  "Never mind The Capitan and Doctor are in trouble.  The bird people have Lakshmi at gun point."

"Oh no. This is our fault, George.  If I would have known I would have let that pigeon rot.  Patrick we have to save them."  Emma opened the aetheric transponder and pulled the silver horns out and stuck them back in her ears.  "With George's help we should be able to sneak up on them."  Using Georges eyes to guide her through the gloom they near silently worked their way to the lounge.

[Ben Hudson, Esq.]

'You may have a member of my crew at gunpoint, but this is my ship and I'll not be swayed by cliched blackmail. Let us be gentlemanly about this.'
He spoke calmly, despite the pounding heart beneath his shirt and his rapidly moistening palms. He slowly took a revolver from his waistband, a sap from his pocket and a rigging knife from his belt. He had a push dagger in his boot, but he had no intention of handing over all of his means of protection.

He rose carefully and locked the door, throwing the key down on the table. Dyke picked it up.

'There. We are alone. Now, your employer... who is he? If it makes any difference, I bear no particular allegiance to mine. I'm sure we can work this out.'

No particular allegiance?! thought Ben. No allegiance beyond the fact he's offered us something we can't miss out on for this job. Oh, and the fact that he'll crucify us all if we fail...

[bluestocking]

Lakshmi waited, still in the burly man's grasp. From the way he held her, she could tell that he'd had some martial training - but had he enough? She shifted slightly, trying to identify the placement and type of his armaments. From the way he grabbed at her shoulders, she thought that maybe - just maybe - she could extricate herself safely, if he was distracted sufficiently.

[Doctor Trakov]

The Peregrin clattered into Alexandria.
There was little that happened on their journey through the ancient city, save for one unlucky windscreen washer. Very unlucky.
They got to the docks, and left the truck.
Lelyushenko opened the fuel injector on the truck.
Soon it would boil dry, and with any luck, explode.
The count had seen a suitable vessel.
A small-ish gunship, British, of course, in Egypt. He and his group of mercenaries brazenly walked up the gangplank and cut the lone.
As it drifted off and they gazed at the sky-sailors milling around, a crisp voice spoke out behind them.
"What, sirs, are you doing on my ship."
The Captain had clearly stayed aboard.
The count turned around slowly. An imposing figure, made all the more so by the thick wolf furs he wore at all times. His black cloak flapped.
"Run, Captain. Abandon ship. Run away. And tell them that the Count sends his regards for his new ship."
He stared at the man.
" I see." was the reply. "The Count. Some petty brigand with ideas of grandeur, I presume. We'll see how grand you are in the cells. You can take off that silly mask, or I will do so myself."
There was a pause.
"Your mistake."
The Count cut the man down in one swift stroke of his long sabre.
The man fell over the side, the imperious expression still on his face.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick nodded to Emma's statement, Putting one hand on her shoulder, he wrote with his finger on her back.
'Do you still have the ray gun with you?'
Emma nodded.
'Can you work one?'
Emma once more nodded, feeling a bit insulted/
'I want you, to keep that at the ready, the captain is a smart man, if it looks like he's in trouble, I want you to fire it at whoever is armed, got it?'
Emma nodded. Patrick silently drew his sword.