[FactØry Gear] IC

[Nation]

[Chapter 1: Missing Plans]

“A boiler, Karl? Seriously?” a young mechanic jested. “Why not just use a heat-infusion rotator while you're at it? You know, I think I saw someone tossing out an old engine from one of those land cars at the refinery the other day. If you hurry now, you might still be able to salvage it.” He snickered at the thought of using such outdated technology. The young mechanic relaxed on the side of an airship and lit up a cigarette. "I'm telling you, just sell that old scrap of metal while prices are still high. It should fetch you at least 40, maybe even 50 thou. Or better yet, just let me work on it, man. I've got decent connects for Core Boosters." Karl rolled his eyes at the naive mechanic as he fruitlessly continued his sales pitch. "Even the Titanic II uses Core Boosters and it can easily hit 1600 Knots per hour. Think of what your airship could do with that kind of upgrade. Unless you own a Royal Airship, you're not gonna get much faster than that with this hunk of junk."

"Would you just shut up and help me over here?" Karl pointed to a tangled mess of cables protruding from the airship.

"There." a group of men wearing lab coats entered the hangar. They pointed out a man entwined in a bunch of cable and wire, tinkering with the side panel of an airship. The man was unkempt, dressed like a ruffian and held a cigarette between his teeth, but the group expected no more of an airship pilot.

Noticing the group of men, Karl asked "Ah, Dr. von Hilder, is it safe to assume it's completed finally? You know, you come in here every week saying that you Continental bastards are almost done with it and have somehow managed to sneak four year of this procrastination by me."

"My sincerest apologies, Karl. But as these "Continental bastards" and I promised, we have finally finished," the Continental bastard waved the folder in the air tauntingly at Karl. The gentleman passed the folder to him. Karl's hands shook with excitement as he peeled open the cover on the folder and peered inside, only to find nothing.

"Is this some kind of joke? There's nothing in here..."

"What do you mean nothing in there?" the Doctor peered inside the folder urgently and shook it as if something might possibly be hiding between its simple folds.

"This...this cannot be. Part of our funds came directly from the Queen's treasury. She'll have our heads on a platter if we don't find those plans," he added. Beads of sweat ran down the doctor's face, part fear and part steam mist.

"You better worry about what I'm going to do to you if you don't find those plans," Karl threatened. Several heads turned to eavesdrop on the conversation happening between the Continentals and Karl. Mechanics, engineers and passengers attempted to appear inconspicuous as their necks extended to observe the commotion. Unfortunately for Karl, the Continentals had the presence of mind to ensure these "plans" were done in secret and thus, no copies were made. Several of Karl's fellow sky corsairs were now heading towards the group, eager to join in the spectacle and see what was going on.

[Crimson Saint]

Joshua paced the floor of the hangar. He ran the fingers of one hand through his dark, graying hair. In stark contrast to the predominant theme of overalls and work gloves, Joshua was dressed in a clean, neatly pressed, three piece suit. He looked rather out of place in the hanger, especially with his pipe set firmly in his mouth (cigarettes seemed to be the preference among the others, for what reason Joshua never could guess). Reaching into one of his vest pockets, Joshua retrieved a silver pocket watch, checked the time, and replaced it. The time didn't actually matter, he'd merely checked it by habit. Running security for airships was usually a rather dull task, and the odd habitual movement served to keep one's mind occupied.

Joshua had only been working security for a little over a year, but his previous profession as a soldier had given him en edge that allowed him to climb quickly to a position of some note. Thanks to that, he had been able to secure a job working for Captain Karl Von Tinkenburg III as security on his airship. The ship was currently grounded for reasons Joshua felt it unnecessary to understand. He really was one of the best security men available - some would say despite his age. Joshua believed it to be a factor in his advantage.

Another situation presently arose to capture Joshua's attention. A group of men in lab coats had entered the hangar. They were drawing some attention to themselves, whether they desired it or not, and Joshua thought it best if a security officer was on hand to make sure things were kept in order. Luckily, he was right there, ready and willing to keep vigil over this curious situation! The group of men, Continentals by what he heard, seemed rather interested in Karl. He seemed significantly less interested in them, but the folder they carried did seem to catch his eye. Joshua continued to watch as the folder was opened, at which point things seemed to take a turn for the worse. Karl seemed agitated, the labcoats looked worried, and their leader was shaking an empty envelope as if he expected something to fall out of it. Whatever was going on, it was causing a bit of a stir. Heads began to turn.

"Nothing to see here!" Joshua stopped a couple of passengers who were getting a bit too close. The problem seemed to be that there was nothing to see, where something should have been. Joshua wasn't aware of what was supposed to be in the folder, but it seemed important enough to cause a stir. He watched the gathering crowd carefully. A little curiosity was no problem, but people in a crowd could often become rash and unruly. Joshua had seen a little curiosity become full-on riots. People built off of each other, until the smallest ting could cause utter chaos. Best to keep a close eye on the situation, and see how things played out.

[Digital Muse]

A tall, rangy brunette with an obviously painful limp made her way down the line of massive metal airship hangars. In her hand was a simple telegraph that she double checked once to ensure she'd remembered the number correctly and then slipped it back into the pocket of her brown canvas trousers. Her crisp white blouse sported the wide 'leg-o-mutton' sleeves and a high neck most women of the day favored, but it looked wholly out of place with her wide-legged trousers. A simple brooch with a miniature pocket watch was pinned to it's closure at her throat. The heels of her hight button boots clicked along the cobbled road between the hangars and the warehouses in the Air Docks portion of the city.

As she made her way along painfully, the woman remembered most of the faces on the workers that scurried like ants into and out of the massive sliding doors of some of the berths and she'd lift a hand in greeting to a few old friends. She hated being land-side. It was too close, too dirty and too oppressive. Today, she didn't stop to pass the time with those she knew, she had an appointment with her new Captain and it wouldn't do to arrive late.

Elizabetta Corvino had been released from the local hospital only two weeks earlier after a devastating loading accident had crushed her right leg. Or, that was the story she told her surgeons, at any rate. The doctors had been forced to remove the shattered pieces of her femur and replaced it with a coated brass that had been skillfully cast in the correct shape. The pinions and rubberized connectors ground and twisted in a most unpleasant manner, but she was assured her leg would eventually heal almost completely. The walk from the main part of the city road a mere few thousand yards behind her nearly did her in and she drew a delicate kerchief from her reticule to mop her brow. Pausing momentarily within sight of the hangar she sought, she also drew out a small compact to examine her features and noted how tight and pale her face looked. A few deep breaths and the lightest touch of powder should remedy that, she thought.

As Elizabetta caught her breath, she noted a group approach a rough-looking man with a wide, curled mustache and the clothes of someone used to working on airships talking with a group of what she called 'Landie Tinkers', or Continentals. The conversation didn't appear to be going the way anyone intended as the Continetals grew more agitated by the minute and the Airman just grew more stern. Interesting, she thought. But not that interesting. She took another deep breath and continued to make her way slowly toward the hangar, noting a well-dressed man near the air man fending off curious gawkers in a polite, but efficient manner. Polizia? She wondered idly. But, as she drew nearer is all became clear. The well-dressed man was some sort of guard which meant that the air man was actually her future employer, Karl Von Tinkenburg III. She sighed gently and murmured, “Always there is trouble.”

[Lara]

The screws were loose again…

Leanne sighed as she glanced over at one of the other mechanics working nearby. “Hand me that screwdriver, will you?” she asked, extending a hand as the tool was passed over with a grin, the others knowing exactly what she was about to start tinkering with.

“Good luck,” a voice called in jest, but she paid it no mind; she had already turned her attention to the issue in front of her, focusing on nothing but getting the job done.

As always, the hustle and bustle around her faded to a minimum. Usually, she wouldn’t become aware of her surroundings again until her task was completed, especially because the others knew not to bother her unless it was important. This time, however, the sound of something going wrong trickled into her ears. She had been tuning it out for the first few minutes, but as always, the confused murmurs filling the corner of the hanger were irritating enough to drag her attention from the paneling of the small airship she was working on.

Leanne stood, wiping the grease off her hands with the rag before tucking it into her back pocket again. ‘What’s going on this time?’ she wondered. From the midst of the crowd she could hear the tell-tale voice of the Doctor. Though the man had been keeping his doings secret, most everyone had at least come to know his name as he ambled about working on his airship.

One of the other mechanics inched away from his position to try and hear better. She, on the other hand, scoffed at the way the onlookers crowded the scene. Whether it was two or twenty, groups of people never helped the situation, and despite the hum of curiosity in the air, she was determined not to leave her current project. With a grunt, she turned back to the paneling. ‘Damn screws…’ This was the third time these particular offenders had decided to rebel; frankly, she was beginning to worry that the screws were going to end up stripped and useless. Then she’d be stuck trying to explain to the boss why the paneling hadn’t been fixed properly the first time.

“Tch. It’s not like it’s my fault they give me such cheap material to work with,” she muttered. Used to hearing the young woman while she worked, the people around her paid her no mind.

“Here comes security,” the other mechanic said, an edge of excitement in his voice. Leanne supposed that was to be expected; when you worked all day on the same, stubborn task, even the slightest distraction was a welcome one. All the better for gossip when security got involved.

She glanced up, following his line of sight; sure enough, she could see security moving with purpose towards the crowd. “Hopefully he gets things settled before someone decides that there’s a thief on the loose, or something,” she said, rolling her eyes and looking back down at the paneling. An unruly lock of fiery red hair fell from the quick band she had wrapped it up in. Scowling, she pushed it back behind her ear and reached in to adjust a few more screws.

As she reached in, she heard one of the other mechanics ask, wide-eyed, “Is that what’s going?”

“Don’t be stupid, Donny.” This was why she hated dealing with groups of people. Sticking the screwdriver in her pouch, she straightened and shot the younger mechanic an exasperated look.

“But you just said-“

“I’ve been here the whole time, how should I know what the problem is?” She eyed him for a moment, crossing her arms. “…So have you, for that matter. If you want to know so badly, go over there and find out for yourself.”

Donny turned a pleading looking her direction. “But, Leanne, I’ve got to finish this repair job. Can’t you go find out for us?”

“So do I.”

“Yeah, but you’re almost done!” With a complete lack of masculinity, his lower lip extended in a childish pout. “Please? For all us poor, equally dedicated folks that you’ve been working with forever, who have never asked you for anything-“

She rolled her eyes and began to pull off one of her gloves. “Stop begging; it’s unbecoming of a man of your talents.”

He grinned. “So you’ll do it? You’re the best, Leanne!”

“You keep saying that, and maybe one of these days I’ll think you actually mean it.” The dry tone of her voice was countered by the slight smirk she shot him before she turned and slowly headed towards the crowd. Hopefully, by the time she got within hearing distance – as close as she wanted to get (she hated crowds) – most of the people would get bored and wander back off to whatever jobs they were supposed to be working on.

[Guilty Carrion]

“Wrench.” The mechanic stuck his hand out expectantly; gloved fingers twitching at the open air once or twice before the requested tool found its way and the man set it to work without another word. Just off to his left, with his legs draped off the side of the scaffolding that criss-crossed all over the hangar, Colt stared out at the open air with a light smile and an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips as he swayed idly back and forth to the rhythm of some unheard song. The mechanic mostly ignored the strange man, only ever bothering him when he needed a tool, and thus far the man had proven himself capable of identifying the correct ones.

The construction had gone…smoothly? Colt was never truly quite sure with the machine aspect, and he rarely could attach the tiny works to the massive system that drove and fed the great machine of the ship. The people, however, Colt could understand. The mechanic to his side, for instance, was a grouch of a man with the social skills of a boar, but to say that he didn’t enjoy the presence of another human being was foolish.

Or the young woman down below, so adamant on tightening those bolts, day after day, even when they would simply unwind themselves the next. Her dedication was impressive, if she wasn’t just a little hard-headed for attempting the futile fix for what must be the eightieth time since they had been originally secured.

Or how about the head of this whole project, the Good doc…

Now what do we have here, my dear doctor?

A small commotion caught his hazel gaze, and the priest shifted forward ever so slightly, causing the mechanic to twitch nervously once, before muttering under his breath about the ‘damned weirdo’. Idly thumbing the handle of the knife tucked neatly into his belt, the priest smiled at the gathering crowd and the growing excitement in his stomach. A bit of excitement to liven up an otherwise dull day? Just what I need, an excuse to stretch out the limbs.

Rising to his feet, Colton took but a moment to fiddle with his tie, although the rebellious garment never truly tightened around his neck, before starting off down the catwalk. He strolled leisurely, the sounds of the conversation drifting up on echoes and up-currents to his ears as he descended the construction. Before long, security was on scene, insisting that the people move along and that there was nothing to see here. Such placations rarely worked, Colt often found, sometimes encouraging people that there was indeed something worth seeing. What was more alluring than the forbidden, no?

Pausing to retrieve a match from the confines of his pocket, he quietly lit the cigarette before swishing the match out and discarding it with a swift flick of his fingers. Releasing a puff a smoke from his lips, he smiled as he walked casually through the group, stopping but a few steps in front of the large security officer (if he had to guess based on the man’s attire and stature).

Security was always a gamble, but then again, who really wasn’t? The richest man could slit your throat for a penny, and a homeless urchin could spare a coin for a man in need. Still, it was always best to assume that you might be talking to a potentially hostile idiot with a gun the size of your forearm. Drumming his index finger against the hilt of his knife, Colt mused on the supposed wisdom of omitting the traditional white collar from his outfit. Men were always so leery about hurting men of god.

Hindsight, my old friend, oh how I missed your flawless clarity.

“Now, now…as far as I know, none of us are of the feline persuasion, so surely our curiosity isn’t dangerous.” He chuckled softly at the small joke, before extending a small hand to the larger man. “Colton Lathem, my good sir. I couldn’t help but overhear that your colleague has misplaced something…”

[Nation]

“Queen Velicia have mercy, we must make haste to the Rochellian Perplexa at once! Surely this is just a grievous clerical error and it’s under some pile of papers,” Dr. von Hilder beckoned Karl and company. The group hastily retraced the Continental’s route back to the Perplexa laboratory, stopping every so often to survey the smoke-covered ground to see if the piece of parchment was hiding.

As the group of ruffians and Continentals bolted into the laboratory, they opened a multitude of drawers, shelves, boxes, crates, etc. all in the hopes of finding this paper.

“Just what is so important about this piece of paper?” Elizabetta asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

The Continental’s looked at each other in uncertainty.

“It’s alright, she’s good company. You can trust her.”

The Doctor responded hesitatingly, “well, it’s really nothing important. We’re working on an engine prototype. A very special kind of engine that won’t require Black Diamonds to fly over Magnetized lands. The Queen is looking to improve the facets of our military and she personally asked our group and Karl to begin work on such an engine.”

Before the group had the chance to take in the information, the leader of the Continentals, Dr. von Hilder proclaimed “It’s not here. Someone must have stolen it. It’s just…not here. I don’t know where it could have gone, but it’s not here. My life’s work – wasted. All because of a simple schematic.”

“Stolen? By whom?” Karl asked.

[i]“The Clankers. They’ve been after our work for years now, always sending in spies under the guise of investors and businessmen. We’ve been trying to keep our projects a secret from them and they don’t seem to agree with that ideal. If anyone is responsible for this shit, it’s them,” von Hilder seemed confident in his accusation.

Karl looked visibly irritated, but kept his composure in check. “It’s fine, nobody’s getting in trouble on my watch. Listen, I’ve got a friend in Bordeux who owes me a huge favor. He’s a bit touched in the head from old age, but he’s a bounty hunter – and a damn good one. If anyone can help us it’s him.”

“That’s the other thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Sir von Tinkenburg,” Dr. Hilder raised a finger.

“Your trip to Venice has been derailed. Italy is having some sort of internal strife and conflict and is currently under German occupation. We can’t risk the schemata or your life. The engine prototype was designed with the Wellgunde in mind. The Engineer is currently an expatriate in Bordeaux. So it’s right on your route. Everything works out, right?“ Dr. Von Hilder seemingly tried to lessen the severity of the situation with hopeless optimism.

Agitated, Karl proclaimed to his crew and the Continentals “how nice of you to care for me and my men. That settles it, everyone haul your asses back to the Hangar on the double. We’re going to Bordeaux.“

[Rootworker]

Mr. Bukovska was but a shadow lingering in the haze of steam that had promptly emerged upon his arrival in the hangar. The mechanics and attendants littering the place took only appropriate notice of him, that is until the steam began to thin around his pale face. A pair of shaded spectacles rested ominously on his long nose, concealing the color but not the expression of his solemn eyes. The workers murmured under their breaths, "Russian".
Mr. Bukovska drew a bronze pocket-watch from his green vest pocket to check the time, and gazed all around the vicinity for anybody who looked like a crew-member belonging to the ship before him. He glanced at the vessel. Yes, this is certainly the right one.
The ship appears ready in the obvious respects. Where is the crew? At that moment, the comely Russian suit observed a motley group of industrial Europeans approaching the ship's port.
"Curious." he said, pocketing his watch with a soft slick.
They would want to know just who he is and what business he has with this ship. They would have all manner of questionings to ask. What would he tell them? Oh, but their feathers seem quite rustled, no? Something must be amiss. Yes, something is out of order, it is quite obvious. I must take this opportunity to steal their confidence. It would be most advantageous if they would grant me passage on this ship.
The exquisitely mustached man in the vest has a look of commandeering about him. This man is the captain. Then a woman with a limp caught his glance; she was tall, self-assured, and there was a latent fierceness in her eyes. And whose this, suffice to say, a priest? Afanasi furrowed his brow just slightly at this bunch.
Curiouser and curiouser. He decided not to be noticed just as they began to gather themselves for the departure. This is certainly the right ship.

x

[Crimson Saint]

"Curiosity may not kill directly, friend, but unruly crowds have been known to do some damage.' Joshua smiled and shook the smaller man's hand, 'Joshua Bell, pleased to meet you. I'd say you're right - somebody's lost something, and it looks rather important."

Joshua was pulled from the conversation by another group of onlookers who were getting too close to the situation. He kindly escorted them to a more appropriate distance. Thankfully, before any others got too close, the Continentals began to leave. The crowd began to split as the labcoats and their leader went with Karl out of the hangar. Most of them went back to work, but a few followed Karl. Joshua decided it was best if he followed along, jut in case things took a turn for the worse when they got to wherever it was they were going. The security still in the hangar could handle things there for a while, and he could take care of anything the small group of followers could dish out, short of a full-on riot (which was, in his opinion, highly unlikely).

Joshua followed the Continentals into the laboratory, and made sure no-one came in who wasn't a trusted part of the crew (he had been previously given access to a list of crew members for Karl's ship, as it was necessary information for his job). Joshua wasn't really listening to what Karl and the others were talking about. Some mechanical jargon that he, frankly, wasn't terribly interested in. What was of some interest was the woman that questioned the importance of the paper they seemed to be searching for. Elizabetta was her name - Joshua had seen her profile beforehand. Of course, a simple sheet of facts did little to describe the real person. Joshua quietly studied her. She was the first mate, if he remembered correctly, and as such, he imagined they would be working together a good deal. Also, she seemed to be known to Karl, another point of interest. However, as the subject of theft entered the conversation, Joshua began to take more note of the conversation.

What immediately followed was also of interest. Talk of a bounty hunter, and then a route change. Things were definitely becoming more interesting. The news of Venice was unsettling, but it seemed to be well timed - at least for Karl and the Continentals. Also, the coincidence of both necessary parties being residents of Bordeaux seemed a little too convenient. In Joshua's experience, there was very little in the way of real coincidence, especially where any great investment was involved. When royalty was involved, almost nothing was left to chance. Then again, even the best-laid plans were often foiled by the simplest things. The news made him uneasy, but Joshua supposed this uneasiness to be attributed more to his own background than to any real threat. Hopefully, this was a minor detour on an otherwise routine expedition. Either way, it seemed that this job was about to become a good deal more interesting.

[Digital Muse]

When the Continentals and Von Tinkenburg began to head out of the hangar, Elizabetta caught a subtle signal from Karl to come along. Though her leg pained her considerably, she was not willing to show any sign she wasn’t fit for duty. Elizabetta followed along at Karl’s right allowing the Continentals and her new Captain to talk about the problem. Evidently some papers had gone missing and tiring of the dancing around the subject, Elizabetta asked outright, “Just what is so important about this piece of paper?” A look passed between the Continentals and Karl, but he assured them of her worth. Something she was grateful for.

It was explained that the stolen item was a plan for a new engine that would allow ships to fly over the Magnetized lands,.Elizabetta perked up considerably. The endless possibilities raced through her mind; trade, exploration, yes, even air dominance in the never-ending friction between nations was at stake. It boggled the mind. The very idea dazzled her explorer’s heart. What could be out there? Her momentary flight of fancy abruptly ended when talk of detouring to Bordeux entered the picture. Taking on a bounty hunter and one that was possibly insane sounded sketchy at best. Her eyes flitted toward the one she thought was security for Karl. He seemed capable and calm. She would speak to the Captain about him and then speak to the man himself about his thoughts on the matter.

Suddenly, the meeting concluded and the Captain ordered them back to the hangars. It seemed they were to sail immediately. She hadn’t had a chance to go over the ship to ensure it was up to her standards or that supplies were stored properly or to meet the crew. She was methodical usually and this abrupt departure was going to make life a bit more interesting for a while. While Von Tinkenburg might be the Captain, she had to ensure his orders were carried out without a hitch. She was going to have to scramble to make up for lost time it seemed.

As the group quick-marched back to the hangars, Elizabetta limped beside Karl, “Sir. While in flight I can go over all the supplies and crew roster. Have we a contact in Bordeux should we need to resupply?” Her answer was a curt nod. It would have to do for now. Back at the hangar, Elizabetta showed her worth. She shook out the crew, introducing herself by calling out crew positions and awaiting a response to identify who what there and setting them about their individual tasks to make ready to sail. The exercise also served to introduce herself as first mate to those who hadn’t ever met her before. The engineers were sent below to bring the engines up to speed, the ropes and ladders were stowed while luggage and remaining supplies were loaded and stored away. She was mostly satisfied with the way the crew moved. A few raw recruits to iron out. But, she was sure she could do that without trouble. She climbed aboard the airship finally with a grateful smile. How she hated the land. “Ready when you are, Captain!” She shouted out.

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