Skyborne: a Quest of Airships, Terror and Revolution

[X] Plan Greed of Men
-[X] You liberated slave laborers and encountered something in the deep.
-[X] Drees and his scientists.
-[X] [Sharp] Study the electric engine.
-[X] Georges Hennepin.

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You finish your report two days into the journey, after some contemplation and a few moments of hesitation. It ends up reading honest up to the point of your departure from the North Sea Station. [Subtle: 13] With some difficulty, you write a decently compelling account where the scientists take advantage of your trust - fostered by Mr Drees' personal choice of them - and the gullibility of simple sailors in order to abscond with the cargo while you are docked at the sanctuary port. The Republic is free to follow their trail as they like. You don't think they will be found.

You expect to face accusations of incompetence, at the least. If you knew what the cargo contained, how could you possibly allow it to be guarded so lightly? But there, you hope to put the blame squarely on Mr Drees' shoulders. Your crime shall be honest faith in a fellow servant of the Republic, nothing more or less. Whether that excuse shall work will rather depend on who is to judge your case, you suspect.

Some of your crew might give a different version of events when pressed, but you doubt any have the complete story. With luck and hopefully a degree of loyalty among the sailors, the truth will not get out.

The officers, at least, are unlikely to talk. Ms Vroomen owes you her position on this ship and undoubtedly held no love of the scientists or the cargo after what she experienced at your side. Hennepin has no reason to sell you out - you think that applies for most of them. Mr van Assen, with his loyalty to the Service, is of some concern, but you've kept him generally in the dark about what exactly went down with the loss of the cargo, for his own good.

Much of the voyage back passes hard at work with the electric marvels in your hold. Whatever strange forces are at work within it, it is still simply a machine. It has its own clear mechanical logic, even if that seems impossibly obscure from the outside. There are no instructions or blueprints to help you along, but you intend to prove yourselves up to the challenge.

[Sharp: 16+2+3=21]

You, Ms Saragih and Ms Vroomen spend a great deal of time with the elaborate machines that are the engine and its accompanying Zotova generator. The basic principles are clear. Energy is converted into electrical power through the peculiar dynamo structure; the electrical power turns propellers, lights lamps, provides heat or any other use you might think to put it to. Propulsion is, naturally, what you are chiefly interested in. To get full use of your new engine, it will demand everything the generator can put out.

The growth of your understanding is gradual. The machines' secrets begin to unfold, but the deeper mysteries have yet to be cracked. You must proceed with caution or risk damaging the machine, so the work is necessarily slow. The Russians have wrung out more power from such simple ingredients than you would have thought possible. This is technology you greatly desire to have for yourself.

'Study the electric engine' is now at 21/40 Progress.


On the evening of the fifth day, with the sun painted gloriously crimson through the clouds in the horizon, you walk around on deck and listen in on a conversation between one of your midshipmen and a lookout.

'Uncommon bare skies these are, by any reckoning,' the midshipman says. 'Why, we've not seen one English ship on patrol in five days. Have they all gone home to roost?'

You do not interrupt the conversation, but it is damned curious. The British believe in frequent patrols around their airspace; they often fly well-stocked long-rangers over the sea approaches which don't come down in months. You've understood it's a particularly unpopular duty for British skyjacks, but a mass mutiny on their part doesn't strike you as very likely. You've flown within sight of Britain for days after leaving the northern Atlantic behind, but you've only sighted land batteries and civilian air traffic. Where have the ships gone?

The matter is illuminated somewhat on the sixth day, when the Hadewijch passes a skittish postal courier in Hanoverian colors, running a North Sea circuit. The small ship's captain knows better than to resist when you summon her to come abreast and pass over a parcel of the latest papers from the continent. You pick out the latest Unionist from the pile and study the front page with interest.




It's not the paper's predictably rosy description of young Prince Willem's confirmation as his father's heir that interests you, however many pages they've dedicated to it. There is an article of mass mutinies among British sepoy troops in the Bengal. Rebellion in India, then. That may certainly have convinced the British to send some of their craft southwards. It's a decently long way even with a fast ship - around most of Africa and India itself - and they'll surely be flying a whole fleet. You would have thought the British to have enough forces in the area to pacify any revolt; certainly there are always squadrons roaming the Horn and all over 'Fortress Australasia'. But by the sounds of the other piece, the one of the Empire, the Dominion has trouble enough as it is.

'It'll be war in India, certainly,' Mr Hennepin says confidently when the matter is brought up during dinner. 'War, and a wretched business that will be for the textile trade.'

Signora Traversi raises a neat eyebrow. 'Surely it will not go that far. The English have dealt with mutinies before. I dare say they are experts at crushing such aspirations of liberty.'

'If the Bengal falls, the French territories will follow,' Mr van Assen notes. 'They're barely answering to Paris as it is. Pass the pudding, will you, Ms Saragih?'

'And who shall restore order? The Turk? The Insulindians?'

Eyes turn towards Ms Saragih, who appears as if she wished she were somewhere else. Hennepin does not have the patience to wait for any potential comment from the half-Insulindian woman; he barrels on.

'Frankly, it matters little, so long as someone puts the boot down. The last thing we need is instability in India. You leave them to fight amongst themselves for too long, and the Commune will be there sooner than you can say-'

Mr van Assen, perhaps emboldened by the strong liquor flowing freely at the table, interrupts him rather brazenly. 'You forget, Mr Hennepin, that the peoples of India are well capable of choosing their own destiny. Perhaps in this revolt, we see the first steps towards independence?'

'Well, why not. So long as they keep the calico coming! Let no-one say I am opposed to self-determination among the Orientals. This unnatural strangehold on trade by the British and the French and the Italians has been most unwelcome for honest businessmen everywhere. May I say, Captain, that this crème caramel is particularly good, and my compliments to the chef.'

The conversation shifts soon enough, your officers' real or claimed expertise on the Indian situation spent. It is not something that affects you greatly, or the Republic, which has little interests in India. But perhaps, as Mr van Assen suggested, this shall lead to the end of colonial rule on that great subcontinent. An interesting prospect - the world continues to change.


What remaining free time you have, you spend with Mr Hennepin. His ordeal in the deep took a toll on him, however much he pretends to have recovered. It is natural enough for you to invite your first mate for private meals or to stroll around the deck. True privacy is difficult to find on an airship - the walls are only so thick - but you try to manage it, to grant your efforts the discretion they deserve.

He is a genial companion, for the most part. It is amusing how little Hennepin tolerates untoward silences or lulls in conversation. The slightest possibility of such a hazard rearing its ugly head is driven back by the beginning of a new anecdote, comment or polite question of a matter of little importance but decent conversational value.

These same social graces make it difficult to pin him down long enough to even attempt to discuss the thing in the deep, and what it did to him. He pivots away with all the skill of a dancer whenever you near the topic. You get the strong impression that he does not wish to speak or even think of that experience ever again. As far as Georges Hennepin is concerned, it might not even have happened.

He would rather speak of anything else. The man has plenty of stories from his youth, his later years, and even hoped-for exploits in his future. It becomes apparent he was born to wealth and spent much of his youth indulging in various frowned-upon and adventurous pursuits available to the rich and connected, such as safaris, illicit boxing clubs and rocket-car racing, which you understand to be some mad sport where witless young men jump inside ramshackle sleds with rocket engines bolted onto them and hurtle down the length of an empty field hoping not to die. Either he exaggerates a great deal of it, or he is very fortunate to still be among the living.

The course of his life is straightforward enough. Born to an engineer father; learned something of the mechanist's trade in his fledgling company; sent off to university in Antwerp, where he received a full education in the classics with the intention of going into politics; lived something of a decadent youth; married and allegedly turned his life around; inherited his father's business and forged it into the behemoth of industry that is Hennepin Steel; fought for twenty years against all comers in the merciless arena of Capital; and now, finally, left his company to his sons and embarked on this grand adventure of yours.

You feel deeply sorry for having exposed him to such trauma in your very first flight. It was an adventure, for certain, but not like the ones printed in the cheap papers. Perhaps he will come around to see it as one, however, and add it to his collection of many factual and fictional stories.

The anecdotes are many and amusing. [Sense: 12+4=16] They are also, you suspect, a defense mechanism of sorts. He evades any chance of showing uncertainty or vulnerability by a relentless barrage of entertaining quotes and tales. Courtesy demands you listen to each and every one, though they are certainly not dull:

'Have I mentioned, Captain, how I met my wife? Oh, Élise, the dear creature, she fainted and fell from the stands - right into the seat of my waiting rocket. Imagine my surprise when I made to mount my vehicle for the race and found within it the fairest young lady I'd ever had the fortune of laying my eyes upon...'

'Ah, my business partner at the time, Mr Gagnon, was taken by pirates somewhere above the Alps in '41. Or was it '44? Not so long ago, in any case. We pulled a great many strings and paid no small amount of money to have him released, and wouldn't you know it? We found the lecher a happy member of some pirate queen's personal harem, and he wouldn't hear of leaving...'

'Do you suppose, Captain, that we might go flying near the Doom? I knew a fellow once who'd sailed into one of its storms on a dare. Only man of his crew to come back, and he'd lost what little wits he had. Could predict a storm's coming to the second ever since, though. Said his teeth were telling him so, though by the time I saw him, he didn't have many of them left. But I digress...'

You wonder if you should strive to learn something in particular. He is happy enough to talk away about anything for as long as you desire, but there is a difference between interesting conversation and polite prattle.

Choose one - for now.

[] [Soul] Insist on discussing the encounter. It does him no good to evade the subject. His psyche must bear a terrible wound from your encounter with the abyssal creature beneath the Station. However improper and impolite it may be, you will force him to speak of the matter.

[] Inquire of another matter. You are not here to delve into matters he does not wish to discuss. You are more interested in the subjects he is in fact eager to speak of. There is one topic that you wonder about in particular.
-[] His proudest achievements. He's had a very successful career and life - you wonder what he considers his greatest accomplishments.
-[] His regrets. He's had an eventful career and life - you wonder what he considers his greatest regrets.
-[] His hopes for the future. He's clearly not content to let life slip by just yet - you wonder what it is that he hopes to gain from his 'one last adventure'?
-[] His opinion of his fellow officers. He is your first mate and your second-in-command. You wonder how he perceives them and if he has any advice on dealing with such a motley lot.
-[] His thoughts on Daouda and the Communards. His opinion of the World Commune and its work has been quite clear. You wonder where such antipathy comes from - beyond the obvious - and if his experiences haven't now changed his mind somewhat.
-[] His thoughts on the Republic. He is a Walloon of the southern Provinces; a component of the Republic that tend to be discontent at the best of times. You wonder how he perceives the Republic and the rule of the States General.
-[] His thoughts on the Service. He must have chosen to find employment on a ship of the Undersea Service for a reason. You wonder what drew him here and what he thinks of your organization.
-[] His thoughts on you. He's seen a little of your leadership and conduct by now. You wonder what he thinks of you and your actions in your time together.
-[] Write-in. You're curious about something else.


I made a prop, yay!