7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
As I have stated before, when I want write-ins, I will ask for write-ins. If I don't ask for them, they don't count.
Yes, now that my co-author has been upgraded into one that won't bail on updates.
As I have stated before, when I want write-ins, I will ask for write-ins. If I don't ask for them, they don't count.
Yes, now that my co-author has been upgraded into one that won't bail on updates.
menosay
Quietly laughing at nothing in particular.
[X] Call up your officers, try and move that officer's meeting forward and have it over an early evening meal. Not like someone's gonna try and steal your ship.
I do want the ship swap deal, just you know we really should talk to our officers first.
I do want the ship swap deal, just you know we really should talk to our officers first.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
I do too. I just get the feeling we need to move the Caroline first, since the phrasing of the Officer's Call makes it feel like we're leaving the Caroline vulnerable if we don't move it first. Plus, if we've gotten to eyeball Cruiser 17 first, we can pitch the idea to the officers with better knowledge and confidence, or know reasons not to.
B-baka!
Frustrated Art
- Location
- Some town in the Philippines
How'd you get him to do that?
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
I upgraded my Immitation Greek author to a Antique Automaton. Its a fairly decent switch, and the Standard pay is appealing to those that live in dry places.
- Location
- 'Murica
Boooooooooooooooooooo
wait, I'm planefriend lite?
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Sure! He's the Aerohomo, you're the Vulgar Bulgar! Its like an authentic knockoff Greek, trust us! Don't believe me? We'll throw in a free Gras with purchase or rental!
B-baka!
Frustrated Art
- Location
- Some town in the Philippines
What does that make you then? planefriend Pro?
- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x] Go back to the ship and start hashing out that theoretical rebuild to unfuck your ship. Your budget's too tight to really do a good refit, but you should be able to get the Caroline Anaheim Aether-worthy. You hope.
Hm, can anyone remind me why did we get a whole shipment worth of weapons? Did we look to arm our crew? What for?
Hm, can anyone remind me why did we get a whole shipment worth of weapons? Did we look to arm our crew? What for?
Again? What happened to our last gun, then?
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Its standard operating procedure to keep a small armed compliment; the ship's espatiers. You have twenty, so fifty guns gives you good spares and reserves to expand the group with. Your personal sidearm from before was sold for cash to buy the Caroline Anaheim.
TortugaGreen
Constantly out of the loop
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] You know, that ship swap deal has been sitting on your mind, and your ship could stand being moved to the Dardanelles.
I'm rather interested in this deal, and would like to progress it. Also, that was a rather pleasant thing.
I'm rather interested in this deal, and would like to progress it. Also, that was a rather pleasant thing.
[X] Call up your officers, try and move that officer's meeting forward and have it over an early evening meal. Not like someone's gonna try and steal your ship.
NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
[X] Call up your officers, try and move that officer's meeting forward and have it over an early evening meal. Not like someone's gonna try and steal your ship.
Cristoforo Colombo
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
You know what this thread needs? An Omake.
Cristoforo Colombo
+++
Primo Tenente di Vascello Garibaldi jerked out of his brown study and sat more erect in the Captain's chair. "What was that, Sotto Capo?"
The young man on the with the bulky headset on talker duty touched one hand to his headphones, listening for a moment, then repeated himself to Garibaldi. "Sir, aft lower lookout reports at least two ships approaching, bearing 0245, range 18 kilometers, altitude 8,000 meters and climbing towards us. Small, no flags. They're not responding to hails or the signal lamp."
Garibaldi felt his hands grip the armrests of the chair harder. No markings, and no communication attempts? Over a known lawless area like the central Agean Sea? Only one thing those ships could be.
"Pirates..." he muttered. He took a deep breath and turned to the Sergente behind him. "Tell the lookout to keep signaling, and sound general quarters." The man began to move, but halted when the XO continued. "And...send a runner to go wake Capitano Schettino," he said less energetically.
The Sergente winced, but nodded, and ran down the gangway at the aft end of the bridge. The general quarters alarm began to sound throughout the ship. R.Dir. Cristoforo Colombo was far from the newest or best light cruiser in the Regia Aeronautica, but her age, decaying armament, and indifferent crew were not the biggest problem that they'd bring into the first actual fight they'd run into in this so-far very boring anti-piracy patrol they'd been on for the last few weeks. No, the biggest problem was Capitano Schettino himself. The reason Garibaldi was at the conn himself, instead of supervising the crew trying to repair the stuck portside lower Gatling array, was Schettino. Schettino the raging alcoholic.
Their less-than esteemed Capitano was currently sleeping off the results of last nights drinking, as he was most mornings. Primo Tenente di Vascello Garibaldi had quite the report ready to turn in to the Naval Attaché at the Italian Embassy in Istanbul when they arrived in a few days, carefully and logically laying out why his nominal superior needed to be promptly relieved of command for the good of the service. But that was later. Right now, their less than sterling zeppelin had to deal with two pirates that had apparently mistaken them for a wayward merchantman. Which was indeed the point of their slow speed and camouflaged exterior. Two pirate ships versus one actual military Zeppelin, even one as ragged as theirs, shouldn't be too much to handle.
He wouldn't have any worries if it wasn't for Capitano Schettino's inability to even organize an orgy at a whorehouse.
+++
"Sir! We've lost contact with the fore topside lookouts! Last report was another ship approaching, east-northeast!"
Garibaldi shook his head, trying to stop the ringing. He blinked at the Sergente shouting at him. That last blast had stunned him pretty badly, and torn a gaping hole in the hull near the aft damage control station where they'd retreated to. He looked around. He had only a dozen men left, all wounded, and only 2/3 of them armed.
The pirates had been far more creative and sharp than they'd expected. Capitano Schettino had lazily ordered them to open fire on the approaching smaller airships only a few minutes before they'd suddenly lost contact with the aft topside lookouts. Only the screams and gunshots that followed informed them they'd been boarded.
A running gunfight had followed, the Cristoforo's unprepared crew rapidly overwhelmed by the boarding party. The situation only got worse as Schettino delayed before issuing contradictory orders, and the third pirate ship that had approached from above while they were focused on the two below got close enough to grapple and send more boarders.
And now the last word they were going to get said yet another pirate ship was coming to pick their bones. It was too much to hope that the new ship was a merchantman foolish enough to try rescuing a military airship with three others grappled to it, or another military ship that might stand a chance. They were doomed. He sighed. So this was it.
"Sergente, get the men to the lifepods. I'll set the scuttling charges," he told the senior surviving NCO.
The older man paled, but nodded. They weren't retaking the ship with a dozen wounded men, and the pirates weren't in the prisoner-taking business. Taking to the wilds of the Agean Sea at night this far from land was rolling the dice with your life on the line, but a better set of odds than the pirates would give. The real terror was the scuttling charges. Thermite charges placed on the fuel tanks for the engines and on each gas cell were capable of turning the ship into a flying inferno in less than 30 seconds. Grappled as they were, the pirate ships with them would stand no chance of escape. It was the best revenge they could accomplish.
Scuttling charges that could only be set off from the bridge... or by hand.
If there was any Regia Aeronautica sailor still alive on the bridge to set the timer, he'd eat his hat. So he'd have to do this the hard way. He-
"Sir!" One of the wounded at his feet tugged at his pant leg. "They've stopped shooting!" He pointed out the gap in the hull.
Just in time to see the first grappling hook fly in and catch.
+++
The knock at the door to his office was a welcome distraction to Capitano di Corvetta Mennella from the time-filling drudgery of his paperwork. It was frankly amazing how much was generated by the Embassy, when he didn't even have any ships, sailing or airship, under his purview.
"Yes?"
One of his underlings poked his head in, holding out a message slip from the wireless room. "Sir, note from the airship portmaster. The R.Dir. Cristoforo Colombo is three days overdue."
Mennella grimaced. That light cruiser was supposed to be his ride home, no less. And now it was overdue? Schettino had a reputation as sloppy, but still, that's why a young hotshot like Garibaldi had been settled as his XO, to keep the ship flying. Overdue from a patrol was not a good sign, but he had confidence in the crew.
"Thank you, Martino. It's probably just weather. Send the portmaster my regards, and ask him to put out the word for any other European warships headed that way to let us know if they sight her."
It was probably nothing.
+++
There, @7734! Have an omake that may or may not leave a slightly-crappy Regia Aeronautica CL in pirate hands in our path. I'm a helper!
Cristoforo Colombo
+++
Primo Tenente di Vascello Garibaldi jerked out of his brown study and sat more erect in the Captain's chair. "What was that, Sotto Capo?"
The young man on the with the bulky headset on talker duty touched one hand to his headphones, listening for a moment, then repeated himself to Garibaldi. "Sir, aft lower lookout reports at least two ships approaching, bearing 0245, range 18 kilometers, altitude 8,000 meters and climbing towards us. Small, no flags. They're not responding to hails or the signal lamp."
Garibaldi felt his hands grip the armrests of the chair harder. No markings, and no communication attempts? Over a known lawless area like the central Agean Sea? Only one thing those ships could be.
"Pirates..." he muttered. He took a deep breath and turned to the Sergente behind him. "Tell the lookout to keep signaling, and sound general quarters." The man began to move, but halted when the XO continued. "And...send a runner to go wake Capitano Schettino," he said less energetically.
The Sergente winced, but nodded, and ran down the gangway at the aft end of the bridge. The general quarters alarm began to sound throughout the ship. R.Dir. Cristoforo Colombo was far from the newest or best light cruiser in the Regia Aeronautica, but her age, decaying armament, and indifferent crew were not the biggest problem that they'd bring into the first actual fight they'd run into in this so-far very boring anti-piracy patrol they'd been on for the last few weeks. No, the biggest problem was Capitano Schettino himself. The reason Garibaldi was at the conn himself, instead of supervising the crew trying to repair the stuck portside lower Gatling array, was Schettino. Schettino the raging alcoholic.
Their less-than esteemed Capitano was currently sleeping off the results of last nights drinking, as he was most mornings. Primo Tenente di Vascello Garibaldi had quite the report ready to turn in to the Naval Attaché at the Italian Embassy in Istanbul when they arrived in a few days, carefully and logically laying out why his nominal superior needed to be promptly relieved of command for the good of the service. But that was later. Right now, their less than sterling zeppelin had to deal with two pirates that had apparently mistaken them for a wayward merchantman. Which was indeed the point of their slow speed and camouflaged exterior. Two pirate ships versus one actual military Zeppelin, even one as ragged as theirs, shouldn't be too much to handle.
He wouldn't have any worries if it wasn't for Capitano Schettino's inability to even organize an orgy at a whorehouse.
+++
"Sir! We've lost contact with the fore topside lookouts! Last report was another ship approaching, east-northeast!"
Garibaldi shook his head, trying to stop the ringing. He blinked at the Sergente shouting at him. That last blast had stunned him pretty badly, and torn a gaping hole in the hull near the aft damage control station where they'd retreated to. He looked around. He had only a dozen men left, all wounded, and only 2/3 of them armed.
The pirates had been far more creative and sharp than they'd expected. Capitano Schettino had lazily ordered them to open fire on the approaching smaller airships only a few minutes before they'd suddenly lost contact with the aft topside lookouts. Only the screams and gunshots that followed informed them they'd been boarded.
A running gunfight had followed, the Cristoforo's unprepared crew rapidly overwhelmed by the boarding party. The situation only got worse as Schettino delayed before issuing contradictory orders, and the third pirate ship that had approached from above while they were focused on the two below got close enough to grapple and send more boarders.
And now the last word they were going to get said yet another pirate ship was coming to pick their bones. It was too much to hope that the new ship was a merchantman foolish enough to try rescuing a military airship with three others grappled to it, or another military ship that might stand a chance. They were doomed. He sighed. So this was it.
"Sergente, get the men to the lifepods. I'll set the scuttling charges," he told the senior surviving NCO.
The older man paled, but nodded. They weren't retaking the ship with a dozen wounded men, and the pirates weren't in the prisoner-taking business. Taking to the wilds of the Agean Sea at night this far from land was rolling the dice with your life on the line, but a better set of odds than the pirates would give. The real terror was the scuttling charges. Thermite charges placed on the fuel tanks for the engines and on each gas cell were capable of turning the ship into a flying inferno in less than 30 seconds. Grappled as they were, the pirate ships with them would stand no chance of escape. It was the best revenge they could accomplish.
Scuttling charges that could only be set off from the bridge... or by hand.
If there was any Regia Aeronautica sailor still alive on the bridge to set the timer, he'd eat his hat. So he'd have to do this the hard way. He-
"Sir!" One of the wounded at his feet tugged at his pant leg. "They've stopped shooting!" He pointed out the gap in the hull.
Just in time to see the first grappling hook fly in and catch.
+++
The knock at the door to his office was a welcome distraction to Capitano di Corvetta Mennella from the time-filling drudgery of his paperwork. It was frankly amazing how much was generated by the Embassy, when he didn't even have any ships, sailing or airship, under his purview.
"Yes?"
One of his underlings poked his head in, holding out a message slip from the wireless room. "Sir, note from the airship portmaster. The R.Dir. Cristoforo Colombo is three days overdue."
Mennella grimaced. That light cruiser was supposed to be his ride home, no less. And now it was overdue? Schettino had a reputation as sloppy, but still, that's why a young hotshot like Garibaldi had been settled as his XO, to keep the ship flying. Overdue from a patrol was not a good sign, but he had confidence in the crew.
"Thank you, Martino. It's probably just weather. Send the portmaster my regards, and ask him to put out the word for any other European warships headed that way to let us know if they sight her."
It was probably nothing.
+++
There, @7734! Have an omake that may or may not leave a slightly-crappy Regia Aeronautica CL in pirate hands in our path. I'm a helper!
NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
Sky Pirates! Just the thing we needed since we've played it so safe so far.
A Night in the Air
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
As you walked along to the restaurant, you bid Ayse a fond farewell with a kiss on the cheeks and a pleasant smile. An Ottoman lady might have made for a fine day in the market, but it was time to get down to business. Your table had been reserved by a runner, the Port du Monde being a common airship captain's watering hole. Once you'd entered, the cloud of hookah smoke blurred your vision before you made your way to the largest table in the entire restaurant.
"And I told her, 'Elizabeth, if you can't at least try on the corset, at least for the love of God take off the dress!' And she did!"
Homing in on Czeslawa's half-drunk story and the luminescent blush your Navigator was giving off, you adjusted course and started triangulating for their position carefully. Soon, another mangled line pitched towards you, Thomas' gravely Scotts accent pushing out through the Turkish babble.
"Oh, you got to go clothes shopping? I had to try and find us a designer willing to work with split load decks, and ain't that like trying to drag water out of the desert. No translator, no service, that's what it is!"
Thomas. Had to be Thomas. Now provided with a sound track, you moved in like lightning, grabbing the one free seat at the table and stealing your neighbor's drink- in this case, Donald's. Your first mate could glare all he wanted, but you needed a beer to cut the hookah smoke out of your lungs. The female members of your crew were all sharing a bottle of vino, while Czeslawa and Lauri were taking turns pulling shots of vodka from something that was distinctly not a local bottle. Swiping a piece of pita bread and the humus ramekin, you took a scoop out before chipping in your own two cents.
"I take it you had trouble?" you asked, grinning slightly at your Engineer. Thomas' shaking hand from drink was exactly enough to tell you how bad it was, but you needed to hear it in his own words.
"We can't get a designer, and the fucks at Zeppelin AG won't take us in. Our only option is taking it to the yard at Yalova or Tekirdag; and from what I've seen of their representatives neither knows shit about working with an aluminum-frame design. We'd need to supply a deck plan and stringer plan too."
After flagging a waiter down for more vino and a glass, you waved your hand around angrily. "So what are we paying them for, then? Material and labor?"
"Yep. And they want to charge us through the roof, too. Prime rates."
Rolling your head back dramatically, you tabled the discussion with a wave of your stolen beer bottle. You saw the food coming in, and three platters heaped high with chicken, beef, rice, and lamb was something you couldn't ignore, or the salads and sauces they came with. Soon, you were neck deep in good food and decent wine, and by the time you were done the sun was considering slipping over the tree line. With everyone now mostly sharing port and a few good American cigarettes that Lauri'd squirreled away for the trip, it was time to get down to business.
"Alright." you began, making sure you weren't going to get ash in your wine. "So, we're kinda on a time limit to swap the cruiser out or start repairs on ours. The decision's happening tonight. Now, as you are all shareholders in the crew to the tune of six per cent apiece, this means you're all vitally important to making sure we're still afloat financially as well as legally and physically. Our options are take the ship swap or leave it; there's no middle ground."
"Can we abstain?" Donald asked carefully, looking over to you. "As First Mate and general head of the ship's crew, no matter which way my vote goes it's a mess. I say switch, we've got to do crew retraining and expansion. If I don't, we're gonna be patching the ship up in flight until something bigger than our parts locker can fix breaks."
"I'll take it." You replied, sipping the sweet port. "Jacob, thoughts?"
"I vote keep. Sweet ship, hot to handle, and aside from the Caribean kerfluffle she's handled just fine."
Shaking your head at the young pilot, you ticked him off the chart you were keeping with toothpick lines in your ashtray. "Czeslawa?"
"Keep. I like my medical bay, and I know most military ships are crewed so they need two or three nurses. My mother worked on the Constellation; and even a frigate has two nurses."
Another vote. Moving along the table, you looked at Elizabeth. "Comments from Navigation?"
"I like the Caroline Anahiem. She's got a nice navigation suite, and a skywatching dome. I say keep."
Great. Three for keep, which meant if there was one more in favor of keeping then you were designing a deck plan. Sipping your port, you looked at Lucia. "Your thoughts?"
"Go for the cruiser." She said, without heasitating. "Our ship's an internal nightmare, and my Espatiers keep getting called in to help with damage control because the unrated airmen can't get the job done before we've got to check the internal drains."
"Lauri?"
"Go for the new. It'll have a central rangefinder."
Ahh, Finns. Always short and to the point. More importantly, this looked like a solid tie. Still, formalities had to be observed, especially now. Looking over at your engineer, you grinned slightly. "Donald?"
"Take a fucking guess."
"I'll put you down for swap, then. It seems we're tied, then- three for, three against, and one abstention. I'll be thinking on this, but I'll have my mind made up by tomorrow."
Making your way out of the restaurant, you settled the bill at the counter before taking out your last cigarette. Moving down the street, something peaked out of the corner of my eye- Ayse's dress? Moving towards it, you carefully turned the corner, each glimpse leading you deeper into the alleys until what you were chasing caught you.
"Ahh, Aleksander!" Ayse said, coming on to you in a burst of perfume and color. "Come with me!"
Shaking your head, you moved back some. "Where?"
"Your ship, of course! I have something I want to show you!"
Shaking your head, you followed behind her as she moved to the taxi airship pad. It was a bare half-hour before you got back to your ship. Another ten minutes got you inside, and as you led Ayse to your captain's cabin, she smiled as she closed the door behind her.
"So, what do you want to show me?" you asked, annoyed. "It's been a long day."
Smirking at you, Ayse crept closer, her shawl drifting off her shoulders to reveal a light, almost carmel-like skin. Creeping closer, one hand wound it into your jacket, undoing the buttons to help it off your shoulders.
"You know…" she said, smiling faintly. "My father was quite insistent on having a resourceful young captain like you in the family. If you were Ottoman, he'd have proposed my hand in marriage at the dinner last night. It'd go better than one of his marriages, I think. I know I like you, after all."
Letting her help you out of your coat, you threw it on to the one peg you had for that sort of thing. Sitting down and sighing, you patted the bed next to you for her to sit. Thank heavens you made it while you were in port. "So… I don't get it. Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I'm sick and tired of bouncing around this city waiting for things to change. I've lived here all my life, I know the city proper and all the suburbs, I've been from the halls of the Sultan's harem to the docks on the Golden Horn. I want out- and you're my ticket. The fact you look better than the greasy slobs that've been asking after me is just a bonus."
"Wait, you think I can just steal you away?"
As you barely noticed the wandering hands divesting you of your vest and unbuttoming your shirt, Ayse moved up to give you a very French kiss and to turn you parallel to the bed so she could perch herself right over your hips. "It's funny." She muttered, finishing the task of divesting you of your shirt. The alcohol had been deadening your reactions, and even if you had eaten well, the wine and beer and port of the Officer's Dinner was slowing you down.
"How?" you asked.
"That you think I'd risk you slipping free."
Moments later, as your pants left and Ayse's dress did too, you had finally figured out how she planned to manage this a fait acompli. Unfortunately, your ability to logically debate her course of action had fallen by the wayside in a haze of lust. While your higher functions tried to figure out the morality and ethics of this plan, they weren't available to take over the more primal urges that were prompting you to action. Shifting positions to get Ayse's creamy skin under you, a few nips and bites teased her while you got ready to continue.
"Minx," you muttered, grinning. It was hard to stay angry at a willing woman who was enjoying herself. "How'd you know it would work?"
"When you bring a boatload- mmm… of French harlots, it says things." Ayse replied smugly, stroking the side of your face. "Besides, it's all in fun, no?"
Shifting slightly, you grinned. "Yes."
---
The morning sun the next day pried you from sleep about as much as the constant uneven morning keel of the ship did. Raising an arm to blot out an abortive hangover, you sat up in an empty bed with nothing except a sharp floral perfume teasing your nose and a small silk handkerchief holding down a note on your cubbies that served as a bench. Reading it and kicking your brain back into French, you had to smile.
Aleksander
J'espère que cette note vous trouve bien. Je serai dans les cours des Dardanelles. Je souhaite vous y voir aujourd'hui, avec votre dirigeable.
Ayse.
Chuckling, you scrounged up a washcloth to clean up with, along with a fresh pair of pants and a shirt for today. It was time to make up your mind- after coffee, of course.
___________
Votes
[] Take the ship swap; Caroline Anahiem for Cruiser 12
[] Do not take the ship swap; keep your ship
-[] Do not refit in Istanbul.
--[] Where refit? (Write in large city within 800 nautical miles of Istanbul)
-[] Refit in Istanbul
--[] Small refit; just enough to limp along.
--[] Medium refit; enough to take a straight shot to Delhi.
--[] Large refit; enough to get back to America. (WARNING; may exceed budget)
(AN: There's one write-in option here, and that's by design. Any votes with a write-in other that the city doing a non-Istabul refit will be discarded.)
"And I told her, 'Elizabeth, if you can't at least try on the corset, at least for the love of God take off the dress!' And she did!"
Homing in on Czeslawa's half-drunk story and the luminescent blush your Navigator was giving off, you adjusted course and started triangulating for their position carefully. Soon, another mangled line pitched towards you, Thomas' gravely Scotts accent pushing out through the Turkish babble.
"Oh, you got to go clothes shopping? I had to try and find us a designer willing to work with split load decks, and ain't that like trying to drag water out of the desert. No translator, no service, that's what it is!"
Thomas. Had to be Thomas. Now provided with a sound track, you moved in like lightning, grabbing the one free seat at the table and stealing your neighbor's drink- in this case, Donald's. Your first mate could glare all he wanted, but you needed a beer to cut the hookah smoke out of your lungs. The female members of your crew were all sharing a bottle of vino, while Czeslawa and Lauri were taking turns pulling shots of vodka from something that was distinctly not a local bottle. Swiping a piece of pita bread and the humus ramekin, you took a scoop out before chipping in your own two cents.
"I take it you had trouble?" you asked, grinning slightly at your Engineer. Thomas' shaking hand from drink was exactly enough to tell you how bad it was, but you needed to hear it in his own words.
"We can't get a designer, and the fucks at Zeppelin AG won't take us in. Our only option is taking it to the yard at Yalova or Tekirdag; and from what I've seen of their representatives neither knows shit about working with an aluminum-frame design. We'd need to supply a deck plan and stringer plan too."
After flagging a waiter down for more vino and a glass, you waved your hand around angrily. "So what are we paying them for, then? Material and labor?"
"Yep. And they want to charge us through the roof, too. Prime rates."
Rolling your head back dramatically, you tabled the discussion with a wave of your stolen beer bottle. You saw the food coming in, and three platters heaped high with chicken, beef, rice, and lamb was something you couldn't ignore, or the salads and sauces they came with. Soon, you were neck deep in good food and decent wine, and by the time you were done the sun was considering slipping over the tree line. With everyone now mostly sharing port and a few good American cigarettes that Lauri'd squirreled away for the trip, it was time to get down to business.
"Alright." you began, making sure you weren't going to get ash in your wine. "So, we're kinda on a time limit to swap the cruiser out or start repairs on ours. The decision's happening tonight. Now, as you are all shareholders in the crew to the tune of six per cent apiece, this means you're all vitally important to making sure we're still afloat financially as well as legally and physically. Our options are take the ship swap or leave it; there's no middle ground."
"Can we abstain?" Donald asked carefully, looking over to you. "As First Mate and general head of the ship's crew, no matter which way my vote goes it's a mess. I say switch, we've got to do crew retraining and expansion. If I don't, we're gonna be patching the ship up in flight until something bigger than our parts locker can fix breaks."
"I'll take it." You replied, sipping the sweet port. "Jacob, thoughts?"
"I vote keep. Sweet ship, hot to handle, and aside from the Caribean kerfluffle she's handled just fine."
Shaking your head at the young pilot, you ticked him off the chart you were keeping with toothpick lines in your ashtray. "Czeslawa?"
"Keep. I like my medical bay, and I know most military ships are crewed so they need two or three nurses. My mother worked on the Constellation; and even a frigate has two nurses."
Another vote. Moving along the table, you looked at Elizabeth. "Comments from Navigation?"
"I like the Caroline Anahiem. She's got a nice navigation suite, and a skywatching dome. I say keep."
Great. Three for keep, which meant if there was one more in favor of keeping then you were designing a deck plan. Sipping your port, you looked at Lucia. "Your thoughts?"
"Go for the cruiser." She said, without heasitating. "Our ship's an internal nightmare, and my Espatiers keep getting called in to help with damage control because the unrated airmen can't get the job done before we've got to check the internal drains."
"Lauri?"
"Go for the new. It'll have a central rangefinder."
Ahh, Finns. Always short and to the point. More importantly, this looked like a solid tie. Still, formalities had to be observed, especially now. Looking over at your engineer, you grinned slightly. "Donald?"
"Take a fucking guess."
"I'll put you down for swap, then. It seems we're tied, then- three for, three against, and one abstention. I'll be thinking on this, but I'll have my mind made up by tomorrow."
Making your way out of the restaurant, you settled the bill at the counter before taking out your last cigarette. Moving down the street, something peaked out of the corner of my eye- Ayse's dress? Moving towards it, you carefully turned the corner, each glimpse leading you deeper into the alleys until what you were chasing caught you.
"Ahh, Aleksander!" Ayse said, coming on to you in a burst of perfume and color. "Come with me!"
Shaking your head, you moved back some. "Where?"
"Your ship, of course! I have something I want to show you!"
Shaking your head, you followed behind her as she moved to the taxi airship pad. It was a bare half-hour before you got back to your ship. Another ten minutes got you inside, and as you led Ayse to your captain's cabin, she smiled as she closed the door behind her.
"So, what do you want to show me?" you asked, annoyed. "It's been a long day."
Smirking at you, Ayse crept closer, her shawl drifting off her shoulders to reveal a light, almost carmel-like skin. Creeping closer, one hand wound it into your jacket, undoing the buttons to help it off your shoulders.
"You know…" she said, smiling faintly. "My father was quite insistent on having a resourceful young captain like you in the family. If you were Ottoman, he'd have proposed my hand in marriage at the dinner last night. It'd go better than one of his marriages, I think. I know I like you, after all."
Letting her help you out of your coat, you threw it on to the one peg you had for that sort of thing. Sitting down and sighing, you patted the bed next to you for her to sit. Thank heavens you made it while you were in port. "So… I don't get it. Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I'm sick and tired of bouncing around this city waiting for things to change. I've lived here all my life, I know the city proper and all the suburbs, I've been from the halls of the Sultan's harem to the docks on the Golden Horn. I want out- and you're my ticket. The fact you look better than the greasy slobs that've been asking after me is just a bonus."
"Wait, you think I can just steal you away?"
As you barely noticed the wandering hands divesting you of your vest and unbuttoming your shirt, Ayse moved up to give you a very French kiss and to turn you parallel to the bed so she could perch herself right over your hips. "It's funny." She muttered, finishing the task of divesting you of your shirt. The alcohol had been deadening your reactions, and even if you had eaten well, the wine and beer and port of the Officer's Dinner was slowing you down.
"How?" you asked.
"That you think I'd risk you slipping free."
Moments later, as your pants left and Ayse's dress did too, you had finally figured out how she planned to manage this a fait acompli. Unfortunately, your ability to logically debate her course of action had fallen by the wayside in a haze of lust. While your higher functions tried to figure out the morality and ethics of this plan, they weren't available to take over the more primal urges that were prompting you to action. Shifting positions to get Ayse's creamy skin under you, a few nips and bites teased her while you got ready to continue.
"Minx," you muttered, grinning. It was hard to stay angry at a willing woman who was enjoying herself. "How'd you know it would work?"
"When you bring a boatload- mmm… of French harlots, it says things." Ayse replied smugly, stroking the side of your face. "Besides, it's all in fun, no?"
Shifting slightly, you grinned. "Yes."
---
The morning sun the next day pried you from sleep about as much as the constant uneven morning keel of the ship did. Raising an arm to blot out an abortive hangover, you sat up in an empty bed with nothing except a sharp floral perfume teasing your nose and a small silk handkerchief holding down a note on your cubbies that served as a bench. Reading it and kicking your brain back into French, you had to smile.
Aleksander
J'espère que cette note vous trouve bien. Je serai dans les cours des Dardanelles. Je souhaite vous y voir aujourd'hui, avec votre dirigeable.
Ayse.
Chuckling, you scrounged up a washcloth to clean up with, along with a fresh pair of pants and a shirt for today. It was time to make up your mind- after coffee, of course.
___________
Votes
[] Take the ship swap; Caroline Anahiem for Cruiser 12
[] Do not take the ship swap; keep your ship
-[] Do not refit in Istanbul.
--[] Where refit? (Write in large city within 800 nautical miles of Istanbul)
-[] Refit in Istanbul
--[] Small refit; just enough to limp along.
--[] Medium refit; enough to take a straight shot to Delhi.
--[] Large refit; enough to get back to America. (WARNING; may exceed budget)
(AN: There's one write-in option here, and that's by design. Any votes with a write-in other that the city doing a non-Istabul refit will be discarded.)
[X] Do not take the ship swap; keep your ship
-[X] Refit in Istanbul
--[X] Medium refit; enough to take a straight shot to Delhi.
-[X] Refit in Istanbul
--[X] Medium refit; enough to take a straight shot to Delhi.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
FYI, your refit is probably going to take a month or two, plus time waiting for a yard. You're going to loose Crew rating from the wait, and you may loose officers. This is also going to hoover up all your money, along with causing you personally no end of headache because you're doing up the plans for the airship yourself- something you've got no experience in.
On the other hand, you're staring at a military cruiser that's going to take a fair amount of time to figure out, but is otherwise almost entirely sound except for a small issue in the Engineering section.
Hint; one of these options is a lot better from a fiscal standpoint. The other one... You'll still have your pride?
On the other hand, you're staring at a military cruiser that's going to take a fair amount of time to figure out, but is otherwise almost entirely sound except for a small issue in the Engineering section.
Hint; one of these options is a lot better from a fiscal standpoint. The other one... You'll still have your pride?
NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
[x] Take the ship swap; Caroline Anahiem for Cruiser 12
We just banged the sister/daughter of the guys who offered us Cruiser 12. I'd rather stay in best turk's good books and do a solid for people who might be good business partners especially if it saves us money.
We just banged the sister/daughter of the guys who offered us Cruiser 12. I'd rather stay in best turk's good books and do a solid for people who might be good business partners especially if it saves us money.