The Darkest of Rivers...

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

(OOC- Na, MW, we're done with him, at least for now..his Daddy might figure in, and Matuba will- this might work out to be a side story, just trying to load us up with a few "bad guys" and a reason for them to show up later.   )
Gunn heads back to the hotel. It's close to 2 AM, local, and they'll be heading out later that day on their "safari." "Might as well catch forty winks." he thinks to himself. "This Matuba fella might have just been running a scam on th' Belgian kid, but I'll shake his tree in th' morning, an' if there's anything more to it, tomorrow will be soon enough ta find out." He lights a smoke as he walks back, wondering if anyone else has found anything useful.

[MWBailey]

Once Mousa and the bearers were settled in, Rafe gave the bridge and other pertinent areas of the ship a looking-over. Engines on a glider, never thought I'd see the day, he thought to himself. "What does that bit with the chronometer dials and such do?" he asked Miles curiously.

After a short rest, Bass went back to the hotel and waited to fill in the others, and accompany them and whoever they managed to dragoon or intrigue into joining them back to the ship.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC : Back in Maryland finally and got the comp set back up about fifteen minuites ago, was a good trip if a bit of a push out and back. looks like every one has settled in and got a good idea of were we are going, so here we go

'A sight differrent than most isn't she," says Miles dropping out the belly hatch at the fore end of the central section, "Come along fellows I will show you where to stow your gear and supplies,if you have more than will fit in a cubic yard o'space ,the extra will have to go in the hold, as the bunk lockers are only so big. "
  showing the bearers to their Micro staterooms amidships aft,he shows them how to set up and colapse the upper berths.
  "I stole the design from a Pullman car,and had them made up in aluminum to save weight.          Now I need to know who of you is a fair shot with a Maxim or Vickers type gun, as someone hands on beats remote operation by a long shot.
   Mospha you are the cook? just forward here is the galley it can accomodate two,a cook and an assistant if nessisary,   I don't expect you will need to work until we get to the Safari location ,as Mrs. Cross'  mec'man resides here and is a good basic fry cook,and as the galley is at the ships CG he doesn't move about much.   Now as you all noticed the Areion is not the usuall air ship , the design is a moddified Andrew's Patent created in 1867 or so with my own personal twists, she can operate like a glider,standard dirigible or a very large aircraft. standard load is ten tons of cargo in 1000 cubic yards of space. she was to be a fast banana/tobbaco hauler when built,then the Dole Corp,put their refrigerated cargo ships in service and under cut me out of buisness. then things got wierd and i ended up hooking up with The Baron. If time permits Mr Bass tomorrow we will take her up and out and give all of you a bit of familiarization with the stations you will be operating if we are attacked while you are aboard,OK?
 In depth explanations for the stations everyone will operate tommorow, meet here in the morn two hours after dawn, run out west an hour and do some flight and target practice,then back in  an hour before Teatime, check in with our primary employer's( Tommy and Mrs Cross),and find out when we pull out."   Miles listens to the discusion catching the sense that the four bearers are really pleased with the berthing spaces, and the fact that this funny dressed white is wanting to have them operating guns on his ship, checking some readouts on the control station miles is pleased to note that Mr Bass is a good judge of charicter ,the scanner is not picking up any trace of suppressed rage or hate that he had half expected given the history of the area.

[The Abiliegh]

[[OOC: sorry for the long silence, fellas. Moving was murderous., I'll finish up my night real quick with our aristocrats and get to the end of the evening myself.]]

As it turned out, she'd chose her evening's compatriates perfectly. Or, at least, perfect for her intentions, if not perfect for a social evening. The conversations were light, the drinks flowed, and soon everyone in the little group forgot about the more glaring of the strata differences that seemed so important here and yet so antiquaited to Abiliegh.

It was amusing to watch the stuffy British lordlings talk politics with a man whom she was fairly certain ran weapons about the region. There was the man rich on diamonds, a couple of retired military types, and two bankers, and their opinions on the state of things in the Congo region, and of Pointe Noir in particular, were just as varied.

But that was what she wanted.

She charmed them all with stories of martians and jazz crimes and salon ownership, and as the evening wound down, it was agreed that all of them, and their women, would join her, Tommy, Rafe and Charlie on their safari in the morning.

They parted ways, then, and soon it was just her and Charlie. She let him call her a cab, thanked him for a wonderful evening, and bid him join her and Tommy for breakfast at the hotel in the morning.

Once back to the hotel, she checked the bar. Not seeing Tommy inside, she retreated to their room, and wondered if his evening was as successful as hers.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Tommy arrives a few minutes behind Mrs. Cross. As he enters their room in the suite, he smiles at her, "Hey, Babe...hope ya didn't wait up."
"Not at all, I only just got back myself."
"Great," says Tommy, "Did ya have any luck?" She tells him of the people she spent the evening regaling, and adds that they will be accompanying them on their "Jungle Adventure."
"Huhn!" snorts Tommy, "This should be good!" He yawns, stifling it with the back of his left hand, then stretches his big frame, takes off his jacket, and lets the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders, hanging from the waistband of his trousers. He leans in and kisses Abiliegh. "I'm going to rack out 'till about five, Doll...there's a guy down in the Market I want to..um...talk to before we go to breakfast at ..what time did you say?" "Nine." "Good, then." He bends and picks up the room phone, an antiquated candlestick model, and holding the earpiece between thumb and forefinger of his right hand and the slender phone with the other three fingers, he toggles the cradle several times with his left forefinger, then takes the earpiece and puts it to his left ear, and raises the speaking tube to his face.
"Hello...front desk. I'm leaving a wake up call for 5. Thanks."
Putting the phone down, he stretches again, then lies down on the bed. Almost immediately, he's asleep.

[The Abiliegh]

She had Clark fix her a drink, lit a smoke, and sat down at the edge of the bed. She took a moment to be jealous of Tommy's ability to rack out within seconds, and took the next moment to roll her neck and shoulders and to let herself relax.

She hoped tomorrow would go well. The preassure in her head was still there, a low thrumming from the very essence of the city, and she was still a bit surprised that nothing had boiled to a head this evening.

Musing over everything, she finished her square and her G&T, got into her nightclothes, and followed Tommy to sleep.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles finishes up the check out ,shuts down the generator system ,and re-engages the ground anchor system  before calling it a day and following Bass and the bearers' example and heading back to the hotel for the night.Stopping in the dinning room and catching the last supper serving ,then going in and having a couple of drinks, he stops at the desk and leaves a request for a four thirty am wakeup call,with a pot of coffee and four pastries to be delivered at five am,  the goes up to his room and lays down for the night.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

The phone rings at 5am, not a ring, actually, but more of an angry buzz. Tommy rolls over and grabs it, joggling the earpiece off the hook, where it dangles for a moment as he collects his wits, then pulls it up and puts it to his ear. "Front Desk," someone says, sounding both chipper and tinny through the antiquated receiver, "This is your wake-up call, Sir." "Thanks," Gunn mumbles. He stretches, yawns, knuckles his eyes, then stands and pulls his suspenders back up. Trying to be quiet, he collects his coat and gunbelt, and the ridiculous hat, and slips out the door. Heading downstairs to the restaurant area, he snags a cup of black coffee, and fires up his first coffin nail of the day. Taking the coffee cup with him, he crosses to the desk, and tells the clerk to call a cab for him, then heads back to the restaurant. He drains the cup quickly, and snags a passing waiter with a full pot and refills it. There are not too many people up and about at this hour, but there are a few. He finishes the second cup of coffee, stubs the butt out in an ashtray on a nearby table, then heads out front to wait for the cab. He doesn't actually have to wait, as it slides smoothly up to the curb as he exits the hotel. He gets in the back, and tells the driver, "Market District, Waterfront." "Yes, sir," replies the driver, and within minutes they are there. He pays the driver and climbs out, and watches for a moment as it slides off into the mist. Cultures may differ, geography may change, but, Tommy figures, fishing is fishing, and they start early. Sure enough, as he steps onto the dock, a 30 footer with a single piston steam engine materializes offshore, and putt-putts its way toward the dock. It has a truncated mast supporting a boom, from which are furled nets, an open wheel house about two thirds aft, with a very big, very black man at the wheel. The engine noise stops, and there is a sizzling hiss as he bleeds off pressure, and the prow of the utilitarian craft noses up to the dock. The big man jumps nimbly from the deck to the planking of the dock, and secures lines fore and aft. Noticing Tommy, he inquires, "Something I can help you with, Mister?" Tommy grunts, "You Matuba- Joseph Matuba?" "I am," replies the big African. "I want ta talk ta ya about a job, Joe." "I have a job, Mister," says Matuba, and turns back to the boat, taking baskets of fish from the deck. "This is a better job." Gunn says. "Better pay, easier work." Matuba screws his big face up into a skeptical frown. "What's this job? I got my own boat, I got customers, what's better than that?" "How about you come with us on our expedition? We need a man that knows fish, freshwater and salt. We'll be heading inland later today, and we're going to want to provision as we go...I want somebody along who knows what's good and what ain't, and somebody who knows prices...we don't want to get cheated and ended up eating chum fer dinner."
I'll pay twice whatever you can make here...yer boat will still be here when we get back." The big African shakes his head, "My customers may not be, though...and I have ...other business..as well." Tommy pauses, reaches in his coat pocket and gets the box of Sullivan-Powells. He offers one to Matuba, who takes it, then lights one for himself, and passes the Zippo to the big black man. Cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he grins, and as Matuba hands him back the Zippo, Tommy grabs the man's hand, and grips it hard at the wrist. "If that other business was a skinny Belgian kid with a big adam's apple and a straw hat, that business is over..I'm cutting myself in, and him out. His mouth's too big." Matuba narrows his eyes, and pulls his hand back, rubbing his wrist. "You look like a rich European fool, Mister, but your grip says that is not all there is to you...what do you really want?"
"I'm American, Joe. I want what every American wants...ta get rich. The blabbermouth said something about diamonds, Joe...I want 'em." He takes a drag on the cigarette, blows out the smoke, and continues, "Now I figger you was lookin' for some funding...I got plenty. If ya wasn't just blowin' smoke up th' Belgian kid's ass, I think we can do business...don't worry, Joe, I'll make sure ya get yer cut." The big Negro is still scowling. "Why should I get a cut when I can have them for myself, all of them?" Tommy grins, "If ya could do that, you'd have already done it. There's somebody else in this game, ain't there?" Matuba's eyes flick downward, then back up to Gunn's face. "Yep...thought so," says Tommy. "Who?"
Joseph Matuba is a big man, and he's quick for a big man. His hand flashes down inside the gunnel of his boat, and comes back up with a wicked looking fish billy made of some sort of dense hardwood, a tapering handle swelling into a bulbous knob on the business end. "Mister, you know too much!" he cries as he swings his arms up and back, preparing to knock this meddling man's brains out. As quick as he is, though, Gunn is quicker. Drawing on the "Jew Jitsu" moves his Chinese friend Hao Bao Chu taught him, his left hand flashes up, and blocks the big man's left elbow at the apex of his backswing, simultaneously unsheathing the Colt with his right hand and placing it hard under the angle of Matuba's jaw. "Aht aht ahhhh, big man...Drop it!" The club clumps back into the boat. "Now, I'm going to offer ya a job one more time...and if ya don't say yes this time, I'm gonna plug ya twice in th' head an' drop ya in the harbor here....what's it gonna be?"
"When do we start, Sir?" Matuba says, a bit sullenly. "Right now," says Gunn, still keeping the automatic pressed into Matuba's jaw, "with ya tellin' me who th' third party is...Nicky said he 'knew a guy who knew a guy'...I figger yer th' guy he knew...now who's th' guy you know?"
"An Italian...His name is Mike Sabarese."
Tommy nods, and reholsters the Colt. "Good. I knew we could do business. As of now, you're in our employ," Gunn reaches in his pocket and fetches out two hundred dollar bills, and pushes them into Matuba's hand. The big man's scowl relaxes...maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all. "Get yer affairs in order, and meet us at noon at th' Aerodrome...an' if ya don't show up, I'll come lookin' for ya, and if I have ta do that, we ain't gonna have such a pleasant conversation as we did this time." Tommy turns and walks away. Matuba rubs his jaw where the barrel of the Colt had been pressed into it and watches the man walk away. The Italian just said find somebody with money to invest. He shrugs...one rich white man should be just as good as another, and two hundred dollars is more than either Sabarese or Nicky has given him. He'll play along, for now.
As Gunn walks away, he thinks about what he just learned. "Sabarese," he thinks to himself, "That's a Sicilian name...is there anything anywhere that the mob ain't involved in?"
He heads back to meet Abi for breakfast.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles wakes,reaches under the pillow and pulls out his pocket watch,opening it he looks at the glowing numerals"four twenty five,good to know I haven't lost the touch" he mutters under his breath ,as he rolls out of bed and proceeds to get dressed,answering the phone as it starts to buzz"thank you.can you send up breakfast now,thank you" he packs the small amout of stuff he had brought back up as he waits.breakfast over he goes down checks out leaving a note for Mr Gunn and Mrs Cross to be delivered when they come down or order Breakfast,he calls a cab and heads to the Aerodrome to prep the Areion for the familiarization flight in a couple of hours,that he mentioned in the notes and to check the arrival of the provisions and equipment that were locally purchased.  as he is waiting,  he notices Tommy getting out of a cab.
   Firing up his pipe so Tommy sees him, Miles leans against the wall while sitting on his seabag.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"Good morning, Master Chief," hails Tommy, noticing  Miles sitting on his seabag by the curb.
"You're up and about early."
"Good morning, Mr. Gunn," says Masterchief Miles, "Yourself, as well."
Gunn's brief flicker of a grin flits across his features.
"Just out hiring a man to oversee the fish buying for our 'Safari'...."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"ws going down to the ship to give Bass and his beares a bit of a familiarization with their duties,lift at ten,then we should be back in port by 3pm  " Miles replies.
"See you for Tea at five then?" he asks.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"If possible, and Bass is ready to proceed, how about ya make it a bit of on-th'-job training...take some of the cargo, the cook tent and so on, on out to Camp One. Bass should know a good spot, tell him to keep it near the River, at least five miles upstream of the Falls. Meanwhile, Mrs. Cross and I will get these rich blokes and ladies sorted out, and if you get back soon enough, ya can ferry them out while the bearers set up camp. With any luck, we'll have tea in Camp One. I'm going to go freshen up a little..I been in this shirt fer two days...we'll see you later, MasterChief."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"Sounds like a plan then Tommy,in that case then pick you and the rest up at 2ish?" replys Miles. "see you then here is my cab" stands up grabs the seabag and starts down the stairs with a wave.

[The Abiliegh]

She was up not long after Tommy left, and had coffee sent up from the restaurant. She did all those things that women do in the mornings to make themselves radiant, and then found herself sitting on the balcony enjoying a cool ocean breeze that would be barely remembered once the morning heat made itself known. She lit a sullivan-powell, sipped on the strong roast in her mug, and watched Pointe Noire wake up beneath her.

Today starts it. I hope the Baron chose us wisely.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Gunn enters the suite, notices the curtains moving a bit with the light breeze, and goes onto the balcony. He bends and plants a kiss on Abiliegh's cheek, then pours a cup of coffee for himself.
"How did it go this mornin', darlin'?" she asks. "OK," says Tommy. "There's something real going on...people don't get worked up enough ta try and kill ya over nothin'."
Her eyebrows raise, and a look of concern crosses her pretty features. "This man tried to kill you, Tommy?" He sips his coffee, nods, and lights a nail. "Sure enough. He would have bashed my brains out if I hadn't been a little quicker." Pursing her lips, she asks, "Did you kill him?"
"Na...I hired him, instead. I'd rather buy 'em off than kill 'em off. Somebody out there has made a major diamond strike, and they're tryin' ta keep it quiet. It may very well be my Uncle...that would explain the diamonds on board the hijacked ship...he was shipping 'em back to Virginia, where, if I know that old fox, he'd have stuck 'em in a cave somewhere. Remember, for all anybody knows, he's immortal, what with th' Chinese Potions and the Tibetan magic and the Curie's internals...not t' mention he's got his own personal Doctor*..we met him, remember?....Thistlewaite thinks long term, like a chess game that lasts a thousand years. Lots of caves on that part of the New River...ol' Thistlewaite probably don't want a glut on th' diamond market, so he's hidin' 'em fer now. Somebody else has got wind of it, though- probly somebody on th' inside- and I've got reason ta believe the Mob wants in. This guy Matuba...the mug that wanted to flatten my head..knows the gangster, name of Sabarese that's trying to horn in on it. I'll pump him later fer more dope on th' situation. Ya know what they say.."Keep yer friends close, an' yer enemies closer."
Finishing the coffee and his cigarette, Tommy says, "OK, I'm gonna grab a shower and a change o' clothes, then we'll be ready ta go and meet these swells ya came up with."

(*The Doctor who visits Thistlewaite is, and shall forever be, the Tom Baker incarnation of The Doctor.)

[MWBailey]

As the others prepared in the wee hours for the journey, Bass stood on the veranda outside his room and watched a curious sight that unfolded across the aerodrome's flight field; an airship, a huge armored behemoth named the Lola Belle (the former military particulars had been rather haphazardly covered over with what looked like a deliberate patch-pattern of varying shades of silver paint, the new name applied over the top of it all). The ship looked to be a slightly heavier class than the pirate cutter Buluwayo had been; a standard Cruiser, (one or two classes short of a battlecruiser) save that she sported a rather oversized cargo door in the bottom of the envelope. But neither the ship, nor its class or armament, nor the huge cargo door were all that remarkable for such a vessel.  No, the remarkable things were the new, commercial-sounding name painted over such an obvious attempt at making the paint-over look banally mediocre on an obvious aerial battlewagon--and the cargo being loaded into that cargo bay.

Four downright sinister-looking shapes, like metal sculptures of the skeletons of flying dinosaurs, but with metal sheeting webbing between the pinions of the obviously-articulated-type folding wings, and what looked like either fueled rockets or the tiniest ducted-fan powerplants Rafe had ever seen built closely onto the skeletal fuselages of the the strange aircraft (for such they obviously were). All of that, adn the strange cargo, could have just been another newly-hired 'pirate hunter,' were it not for the figure standing just inside at the brink of the cargo bay. Rafe had not learned his name, but it was the same figure that had stood on the outdoor flying bridge of the Buluwayo as the sun had gone down like a golden fireball in the west, just as the Simba and the pirate craft had crested the Mountains of the Moon.

He met the others outside their rooms, And filled them in on everything that had transpired and that he had done and seen since they parted company the night before, including the Lola Belle and her apparent commander.

"It could be merely coincidence that he is here on a new ship; he might not even be the captain. but he is here, and thus I have difficulty believing that big corvette is anything other than a very heavily-armed pirate ship -- or maybe a Merc fire support vessel for a revolution, perhaps."

"If we get aboard and underway immediately, we can probably avoid having them on our tail..."

(OOC: Just something for suspense's sake. Use it or not... )

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Tommy says, "I'd say jumpin' up and haulin' ass in an obvious manner might be th' surest way a get 'im ta chase us, and while that might not be an alt'gether bad thing, I don't want ta tip our hand this early....the dodge is, we're here ta go on Safari, what do we care if there's a thinly disguised warship in port?" He shrugs. "In any case, if it's us he's after...not likely, I'd say...he'll find us, and if it's not, then maybe we'll have ta find him..." He briefly outlines the events of the morning. "So, Abi's getting us in with th' ritzy set, I've got hooks in th' underworld...I'd say we're right where we need ta be. Let's keep to th' schedule...start the overland trekkers moving, and get th' swells and other essentials on th' airship. Set up Camp One this afternoon, get some fires going and such before nightfall."

[MWBailey]

The orders were given, and the overland bearers started out; a special steam-electric packet blimp carried spare comestibles, heavy camp supplies, and stopgap replacement supplies (in case of 'the unavoidable,' as Mousa had put it) to Mousa's warehouse in Stanleyville and then onward to the company depot in Walinga Station. Her captain, a wily old native airman, knew the actions to take to avoid the pirates in the area. With the various stops made and the items offloaded, he and the tiny crew flew the blimp back to Stanleyville to wait in case the Aireon ran into difficulties and the expedition needed to have help or supplies flown in.

After aethering the orders to the expedition's logistical people, Rafe stowed his pack, the Villar Perosa machine gun, and a few other items in the berth in the cabin that he would share with Mousa and the bearers. He retained the revolvers, but stuffed the sheathed machete down into the side of the pack. He'd keep the khukri close; he'd learned ovbe rthe years that it could serve as both a brush knife and a fighting knife, if it became suddenly necessary to make a hasty landfall. He'd learned about that kind of scenario early in his airman's career, while he was with the Glider Corps; you never really knew for absolutely certain that your ship would get to its planned destination until after it touched down there, and earal battles tended to land one in the bush abruptly when one's opponents gained the upper hand.

Thus, cutlasses and multiple-use knives in utilitarian sizes tended to be the order of the day, and while the Fairbairn daggers, Bowie knives, and Khanjars and janbiyas and various other hafted implements that his fellow airmen had acquired and come to swear by (one of his crew engineers had carried a actual antique English Bill, of all things) had their uses, nothing in his personal experience beat the sickle-shaped, broad-bladed panawal khukri with its massive rosewood handle for sheer multipurposing -- it could even be reversed and used like a sap, in a pinch, as he had done back in that alley in Pointe Noir.

Having gotten everything stowed and squared away, he left Mousa to finish getting the bearers settled, and went to the piloting area of the ship to present himself for duty and piloting training.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Tommy showers, shaves, and puts on a fresh shirt, pressed Safari jacket, jodhpurs, boots with short spurs, the damned ascot, and finally straps on the pistol belt and sets the "Gentleman's Safari Special" on his head. Almost as an afterthought, he pins the miniature "dress" medal of the Mars Expeditionary Force to his left breast pocket. Ready for breakfast with the upper crust, he checks himself in the mirror, grimaces, and prepares to be on his best behaviour. "Hope Abi does most of the talkin', " he says to himself, "I ain't got much ta say ta these types..I don't know which end of a polo mallet ta grab."
His brief grin flashes over his features. He'll be glad when they're underway, and the "social positioning" part of the mission is behind them. Once they're in the field, he can go back to his more utilitarian khakis and a real bush hat, and if he gets a little dirty, so be it.

(OOC~ "The Ghost and the Darkness" just came on Cinemax. Perfect for setting the mood for the Expedition!")

[The Abiliegh]

She watches Tommy fuss over his outfit, barely able to conceal her amusement. The air around him is tangible with what she could only describe as a child's pout even though he looked keenly dashing in his safari clothes.

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she too dons her hat, a wide-brimmed summer affair that would allow her shade for the trip without restricting her to a veil. She'd return to those once they were in the brush, bugs being what they are.

They went down to the restaurant a few minutes early, and she let Tommy pick where they would meet with their ritzy little cover-rubes. She called for trays of fruit and honey to be placed out, fresh bread,  and for coffee as well. She'd wait on offering booze 'til they we're in the air. She wasn't sure how many of those invited the night prior would show, but she hoped it was most. She'd come into a good array of legitimates, new-money types and disreputables, and it would be good to be able to pick the brains of all of them.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles hears Bass in the  passageway above and calls "Come on down, the hatch is open."  Dropping through the hatch Bass sees Miles setting a set of vienier dials and latching relays" got the final balance and load checks done now ,the ship is ready for lift off,as soon as we get the signal from the tower. twelve tons of stores aboard and she wants to lift like an angel that's late for chorus practice."
  "as soon as the Forward ballast is full,about five more minutes it looks like,now ,I will answer any Questions you have ,for now have a seat in the pilot's chair,and familiarize yourself with the controls.///.ten minutes pass.//.

Miles sticks his head out the port window and calls " shut off and detatch the hose now, she's full" The radio cracles ' Areion 4  cleared to lift in five minutes'     
"It all happens at once it seems" mutters miles as he Grabs the microphone and keys it" Arieon 4 acknolegesFour minuites and counting" then sets down in the seat to the right of Bass " I have every thing set up for single stick operation right now with my controls as  primary for launch, as soon as we get up to five hundred feet ,i will have you take over so you can get a feel of how she handles. I think you will be pleased by her responsivness." miles says with a grin," good i see you found the seat belts" flipping a switch he speaks into the microphone again "all personell aboard the Areion we will be lifting in two minutes get in a seat and grab on tight she may be a bit light at first".
scanning the board and then the sky above through the periscope,"all clear for a mile at least.miles drops back into the seat ,checks the time 'Time to go "he grabs the handle between the seats and pulls it up.  arushing noise is heard and felt through the fabric of the ship and a half a gravity of acceleration pushes everyone on board down into their seats.  from outside a great splash of water is heard. " we're on our way now" says Miles as the ground drops away from them and the Areion starts to glide forward and up accelerating at fifteen  feet per second.  he pulls back on the stick and puts a rit of right rudder and aleron into the turnafter two minutes the ship is at five hundred feet and two miles from the air feild. "ready to take the controls Mr Bass? Miles asks.

[MWBailey]

"Aye, Cap'n, Bass replied, taking the control stick and holding her syteady, the way they had done in the 'Dactyls in North Africa (The 'Pterodactyls' were the name the Rapid Response Glider Corps chose for their unit in lieu of the official miilitary acronym; pronouncing themselves as 'argicks' just didn't catch on, and the huge-winged gliders did resemble a flying dinosaur such as has been displayed and caught the fancy of the British population in the British Museum the year before).

He kept that bit of trivia to himself, though, figuring that if Miles asked, then he would tell it; it felt to Rafe as if he would be bragging out of turn if he brought it up on his own, and it was all ancient history anyway; the 'Dactyls and the border conflict they were created for and fought in had been defunct for years, now. He concentrated instead on learning the feel of the controls and adapting his knowledge and experience to reading and interpreting the various instruments.

He performed the standard calculations on the dead reckoning wheel in the cockpit, finding it somewhat better-appointed than the one he had used aboard the Simba.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles runs Bass through the set of manuvers that he taught to Tommy and Abileghe the week before. then has him fly the ship towards the safari base camp location while he get the bearers aquainted with the gun positions that they will man if the ship is attacked enroute, giving the boys a belt of ammo apeice to familarize themselves with the guns , he asks" Boys ? how many of you have served in combat ? I belive I served with cousins of y'all in the Great War, remind me after ,I may have pictures. Now to the bussness" Miles uncaps a voicepipe  and calls forward to the bridge "Mr Bass. gunnery practice astern I will be launching a clockwork drone target or three, for  Mustapha and his compadres to practice shooting at"...
..after thirty minutes and two belts of ammo per man ,Miles says " Nice job fellas, any  of you know how to clean these bad boys? " after surveying thefour men Miles said "as i figuredthen,We get in to camp while youall are unloading I'll be cleaning the guns ,if you get finshed before me then come on up and You can watch me do the last one. then i will help set up the one gun tower that will be left for camp defense. all done for now gents grab  a nap,or a smoke .just keep a watch aft and let us know if you see any thing funny .

[MWBailey]

(OOC: Are we going to backtrack and pick up the others, or are we assuming that they have already boarded?)

[The Abiliegh]

(OOC: Are we going to backtrack and pick up the others, or are we assuming that they have already boarded?)

OOC: We're having breakfast while you boys set up camp for all those ritzy types, lol. Then the crew is supposed to come back and pick them up so everyone can dinner in base camp. I'll have a post for the breakfast out shortly-ish. By tomorrow at the latest... it's been a busy work week!