Zeppelin Quest I: A New Adventure!

Looking around your cabin, you growled as you tried to scrounge up some formalwear. The Airman's Dress was distinctly a middle-fashion suit, and more importantly made some very dramatic concessions in line and fit to work in an integral and secure safety harness. Considering the odds of you needing to drop a cable and carabiner into the nets at the sanjek-bey's house was just about nonexistent, you figured you could probably show up in something nicer than your current duds.

"Captain van Riebeck, mind if I come in?" A vaguely familiar voice asked. Lee, right? One of your passengers.

"Come in, Lee." You called, clearing off spots to sit. As the door opened, the English Count stepped in, moderately surprised.

"Good afternoon, Captain." He said, slightly formally. "Do you mind if I have a seat?"

"Go ahead." You replied, pointing over at the waist-high set of cubbies that doubled as a chair.

"To be honest, I wouldn't have expected such spartan conditions for the captain of an airship." He said, looking around. Aside from a miscalibrated barometer with ASL gauge locked on the wall and one porthole, your room was clean of wall, the faint gray paint showing the half-finished nature of the ship.

"One tends to accumulate detritus over a career." You replied diplomatically. "A short career, an empty wall. That and how busy I am certainly doesn't help."

"Oh?"

You shook your head. "If it's not one thing, it's three others. Find out what's broken, find out how to fix it, what to wear to the dinner, collect our pay and finish the sales…"

"You know, I can help you with that second bit." Lee said, smiling slightly. "My brother-in-law is part of the embassy, and he knows an excellent tailor on this side of town who works fast and only charges twice over normal for people who don't speak Turkish."

"That would be delightful." You said, heaving a sigh of relief. "All I need is coat and pants, and maybe a tie."

"Of course, of course. Just meet me groundside in a half-hour so I can let the ladies know we'll be out and about."

---

Sitting in the coffeeshop next to the lighter pickup at the Istanbul Aerodrome, you fiddled with the buttons on your coat. The whole ensemble didn't have that horrible, just made today scent attached to it, but you could swear if the light shined right you saw the chalk marks from the tailor's bench.

"'ey! Un yole pour van Riebeck a Yeniköy!"

Well, shit. That was your ride. Moving out, you found it was a far less flashy and more stable platform than the one Sanjek-bey Iskandar had rode out to you on- and more importantly, you weren't the only passenger. Down in the slightly recessed area for the riders of this airship, you saw a young woman, dusky skin contrasting a crème dress.

"Hello, Captain van Riebeck." She said, her voice a contralto that caught at you and held on. You never described French as a sensual language before -mostly because you learned it from three-quarter drunk Metis lumberjacks- but something about her voice made you remember why it was also called the language of love.

"Hello, mademoiselle." You said, smiling and taking off your hat to do a short bow. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting company on the way in."

"My father decided it might be a good idea to send someone to help you, if only to help translate for the pilot." She said, smiling and inviting you to the divan. "Besides, I was interested in seeing the airship captain for myself who is worth such high praise."

"Your father pays me every courtesy, and I cannot help but to return in kind." You said, approaching and leaving off the hat. "May I have a name to set next to your face, however?"

"Begum Ayase Iskandar; Captain. I was curious, though- what is the name of your ship?"

"The Caroline Anahiem. She's… in very rough shape right now."

"Oh?"

You smiled wan, and leaned in. "Can you keep a secret, just for tonight Begum?"

She chuckled. "That's just a title, Captain van Riebeck. Call me Ayase."

"Then for you, I shall be Aleksander."

"In which case, I'll say I can keep a secret."

"My ship was designed by an idiot savant." You say conspiratorially. "In a dozen respects, she is the best in the world. In a thousand others, she is absolute trash for her size and class. I carry a tithe of the cargo of a proper Zeppelin, pack half as few guns as a Holland, and my only advantage is a speed out of the Aether I'm never in a position to use."

Ayase raised her eyebrows and smiled slightly. "I'll remember that little secret." She chuckled. "Not that my brothers will care overmuch if they get their hands on it. I'll tell you now Mutsafa is going to try and talk your ear off with business all night, even if this is a family dinner."

"Thanks for the warning." You said, smiling slightly. "I take it he works in the business?"

"Oh, Allah might know more than him about light airship construction, but he'll never admit it. Always going on about work, and how he's this close to figuring out a new item that'll let him finally develop his dream Light Cruiser instead of proper Clippers."

"I'd recommend a trip to America, then." You said offhandedly, vaguely moving your hand west. "Most of the Aeronautical Navy uses Clippers over Cruisers, unless someone brings up the topic of Spain again."

"There was that war your country fought, yes?"

"We did. Cuba was almost in revolt, the Maine blew up in Havana, and the Spanish made issues on issues over it until Congress declared war."

"And what does this have to do with that?"

"Cruiser-weight ships were the only ones that had the bunkerage to get out to the Philippines, and the air campaign over Cuba was decisive in that the Spaniards had nothing that could fly. I'd almost pity them, if I wasn't nearly an officer in the war."

Ayase looked up at you skeptically. "Really, now."

"I was offered a position as a Lieutenant on the Lake Champlain when the war was declared." You stated, smiling lightly. "She was fitting out in Ann Arbor at the time, and Anapolis was fresh out of airship's officers, so they were recruiting from the schools pretty heavily. My professor of Engineering recommended me."

Hemming and hawing, Ayase raised an eyebrow. "Alright, then. We're almost there, so I'd like you to-"

As the airship landed with a gentle thump, you heard the pilot bawling out that you'd arrived, followed by a face possessed of a ridiculously fuzzy mustache peaking over the gunnel. Moments later, he was yelling in energetic Turkish at Ayase, who was just putting her head in her hands and making shooing noises back. Moments later, he was in the airship itself, sticking out a large hand at you to shake and pull you off the divan with.

"Guten tag, Herr Kaptain!" he called at you, making you start short as your brain frantically went into overtime trying to dig up your Father's precious few German lessons.

"Hello." You replied, smile strained. "Ah, do you speak French? My German is, in a word, poor."

"Oh, French?" he said, smiling as he clapped you on the back. Even though his accent was flat as a board, rather than your more bitten speech or Ayase's rounding, it still sounded decent enough to hold a conversation with. "I can muddle my way through in French, I suppose."

"Ahem." Ayase said, showing up on your opposite side. "Mustafa, this is Aleksander van Riebeck. Aleksander, my brother, Kaylon Kaptani Mustafa Iskandar. He's with the Navy Aeronautica's airship-building yards- the ones just east of the Dardanelles. Did you see them on your way in?"

"No, we came from the north." You said honestly, taking a minute to shake Mustafa's hand. "Aetheric disjunction made a bit of a hash of our navigation, I'm be afraid."

"Ach, we've only got four proper construction barns anyway, and Zeppelin AG's been up to their usual shenanigans again. That bunch of fussy perfectionists just don't know when to leave off, and I swear their lead designers are going to have another apoplexy at Frame Twelve again."

"You work directly with Zeppelin AG?" you asked, blinking in surprise. The company itself and their half-dozen related groups were infamously hard to pry out of Germany, and more importantly also tended to be absolute pricks when the topic of doing something new came up. They'd managed to slowly piss away an undisputed lead in the industry to 'merely' having the ability to rebuild every airship in the world once over in the space of two years in theory. Their potential monopoly died on their pride, though, as they clawed aluminum from France and Austria-Hungary and rubberized latex gas cells from America. One hiccup in a supply line that nearly twenty companies held stakes in, and their production would plummet and so would their standing.

"Allah preserve me, yes." Mustafa replied, shaking his head. "We build the frameworks and the envelope, along with all the decking and most of the components. Zeppelin does the instillation, and designs our components. It's… a mess, really, but it's not as bad as the wet-navy folks. They're never quite all there- I think it's too much gin and tea with the folks at Vickers."

"Not the first time the English have driven a man mad." You agree, the three of you moving towards the smallish mansion on the bank of the Bosporus. What you would later learn to call a yali was a bright house, subdued only by the starting of the shadows of the sun setting. Inside, it was amazingly like the one trip you'd taken on a passenger airship once- tapestries and cloth everywhere, fine rugs decorating the floors and warm wood tones on the halls. As Ayase disappeared into the house, you stayed by Mustafa, who continued to chatter on about business. It ended at a small room, though, in which you noted a hookah and a few more men around your age.

"Aleksander, meet my brothers." He said, grinning. "The two on the left are Aziz and Selim; the ones on the right are my poor, decrepit cousins who are forever doomed to wet feet and cheap gin."

"Very funny, Mustafa." The one closest to you said, grinning slightly as he puffed out the hookah's wand. "I'm Mirac, and this is Yasin. He's been chattering your ear off about airships, hasn't he?"

"I'd swear he's more interested in them than my officers." You said, taking a seat and accepting the hookah pipe. You chuckled a little when you noted the lightly-used goldbeater's skin that made up the hose, and then you inhaled carefully. Thick smoke pulled up into your chest, a faint brush of mint and honey next to the heady tobacco.

Holding it down and trying not to cough, you exhaled slightly. The dragon-like plume that escaped your lips sank through the air heavily, as Mirac asked you about what weather was like so far over the ocean.

---

The dinner itself was about a half-hour later, and you'd worked up a powerful appetite. While Mustafa's "cousins" might not have been cousins in truth, as you were fairly sure their mother was one of Iskandar's other wives or concubines, they were still very much part of the family and treated as such. Entering the room for dining, you and your five new friends quickly got yourself seated and arranged, while the rest of the family slowly trickled in.

The dining room was rather strange to you- a diamond table, with each face displayed to a sofa or divan that wrapped around in what was effectively another diamond around it. The women took the corners, while the men found themselves the faces. Soon enough, you could see why- you could unfortunately be bombarded with questions still, while it all flew right on past the little pockets of women.

Somehow, as the rather large dinner began after a short and unintelligible prayer, you ended up flanked by a very bright young boy on your right who didn't quite speak French yet but was giving it a strong go to talk to you about stuff, while on your left was one of the other young members of the family brooding into his food. Thankfully, you managed to hear Ayase for a moment, reading her lips as much as hearing her voice.

"I talked to Mustafa earlier, and Father. He wants to talk about buying your ship."

You recoiled, and shot her a heated look over the food. "What?"

"He wants it for the skeleton and the engine technology. Nobody at Zeppelin AG is selling diagrams for aluminum skeletons, and apparently the current designs won't work. New boiler designs and engines would mean a massive-"

"I can tell!" you exclaimed as sneakily as you could, the conversation lost in the familial babble. "The Germans have you on a tight leash- anyone could see it! But, why my ship?"

"It's the first American ship in Istanbul in twenty years!" she said, before Mustafa signaled you and his father. Apparently, Iskandar and his son had been talking, and the two looked at you and pitched their voices to carry.

"Aleksander!" Mustafa called, grinning. "Listen, listen! I have a proposition!"

"Yes?" you called back, smiling through your teeth.

"Your ship, it's not propriety, yes? All yours, free and clear?"

"Of course!" you yelled, grinning. Ayase must have gotten spooked, is all. It didn't sound like an offer-

"A trade, then!" he called. "Your ship- it's weary, but she can make it to the Dardanelles, yes?"

"Easily!" you boasted.

"Good! When she arrives, we'll trade- your Caroline Anaheim for the Cruiser Twelve!" Mustafa called out, laughing. Your face fell open, though.

"What?" you called back. "A trade of ships?"

"Yes!" Mustafa called, laughing. "I get a ship to dissect and examine, and you get a ship that's passed her flight trials except some stupid malaise!"

"Mustafa, you're going to have to explain more! What malaise?"

"Just some stupid crap that keeps popping up- oversteer on the port rudder, vibrations in the number two engine, the chain hoists jamming whenever someone looks cross at them, nothing too major. As long as Al-Shasma keeps his greasy mits on it, though, we're out a barn for construction and refit, and we're backlogged form here to Jerusalem!"

It made sense, in a blinding moment of clarity. "You can do that?" you asked in a small amount of awe. Air cruisers were in a word, expensive. Redundancies on redundancies, full or partial belts, lots of weapons points and magazine scrams, and most importantly the small tooling shop that let them manufacture parts on the fly and repair broken items.

"That's where I come in." Iskandar spoke up. "I have some influence over the Vizer of the Navy Aeronautica, and more importantly I also have friends in the Ministry of Finance. The Navy Aeronautica has been in hot debate, and right now it is believed twenty cruisers are more than enough- disposing of the sole non-functioning and non-commissioned one in exchange for a technological demonstrator would be well within the Navy's purview."

"She won't be a flyaway ship." Mustafa spoke up, looking at you with an even eye. "Aside from time for your crew to arm her with your own weapons -because we need every modern gun we can get!- there's also the fact we can't really let it go until the paperwork goes through. It'll take about two weeks, I think, and you won't be paying for your dock fees in Dardanelles yards."

You paused, in thought. Seeing your hesitation, Iskandar gave a paternal grin. "Don't worry, Captain van Riebeck. Even if you don't accept, there's still much for you in the Empire- and more importantly, we won't chain you here. Some of your passengers have friends in high places, and have let me know you're expected to make your way to Delhi or Bombay eventually, and further beyond that after."

You nodded, thinking.

"Bring us an answer any time before you leave, and we can make arrangements."

---

Raw Stat Blocks


VOTES

[] Take the offer, here and now. Have fun explaining it to the crew, though this is something that's in your purvey as Captain and primary owner of the ship.
[] Leave the offer- you have a fishy feeling about it. Zeppelin designs are usually solid, although you've heard some rumors about them growing quirks in their old age.
[] Sit on the offer, and talk it over with the officers. (OOC- this prompts an @theJMPer update or two while you stew on the matter and some more time to get used to the girls.)