The Darkest of Rivers...

[MWBailey]

"Friend Rafael," Mousa said under his breath as Miles moved off to correct one of the bearers, who was having a terrible time just holding his assigned HMG steady enough the keep from spraying bullets like perfume from an atomizer, "Why does this pasha keep calling me 'Mustapha?'"

"Fellow's got a lot on 'is mind, Mousa," Bass answered also under his breath,"Bear with 'im, 'e's not tryin' ter tick you off, I promise."

"No, no, no, Impele, you have the lead the buggers, shoot ahead of 'em or wait'll they're goin' direct away or right at you," Rafe said exasperatedly a little while later, as the bearer in question blasted away a whole second belt at the practice drones, missing all of them completely. At least the fellow could load the belts for himself without help, but it wasn't until Bass grabbed one of the control grips and swung the muzzle and sights ahead of the crazily-careering drone that Impele caught the idea of how to hit the broad side of anything with the Vickers gun.

"Yer, now ye've got it! Loik that! Yeah!"  He and Mousa cheered as the fellow began knocking the drones all over the sky, the bullets making pingy-pongy noises as they chimed off of the drones' armor.

Later, as they unloaded the equipment, and began to set up  the Base camp, Bass detoured during one of the trips back aboard to unscabbard and sling on his back the comforting double-barrelled, wooden-stocked bulk of the Villar Perosa machine gun, with the specially-made large-capacity magazines in place, along with anothe rsurprise for anything or anybody that mistook him or his companions for easy prey; he also noticed that Mousa had strapped on his scimitar, and teh bearers were wearing their Native cutlasses*; he was getting that old itch between his shoulder blades that suggested someone or something might be watching them from the surrounding bush. It could be anything, of course, as small as a chimpanzee or as big adn deadly as a bull croc or even a bull elephant-- or as deadly as a small fellow human out to kill six men and take their gear.

As they began erecting the tower, he answered Miles's rather pointed look at the notoriously-murderous weapon on Rafe's back, saying, "Watch yerself and the country around us, Mr. Martin; Somethin' 'ungry's givin' us an eyein' - over, be it man or beast I can't say yet. I'll go 'ave a look-see after we set this 'ere thingummy up."

A while later, as teh others rested, Bass did as he had promised, adn as he had often done before, managed to disappear into the surrounding country. One moment he was there, drinking a cup of boiling-hot coffee -- the next, most of the coffee was gone, the tin cup sat on the felled log that Bass had been sitting on, and Bass and the gear he wore were all gone, silently, as if they had never existed, as his departing words seemed to hang in the air after him. "I'll be about, just give a yell if ye need me."

----------------------
*something like a narrow-bladed butcher knife, but a bit longer than most butcher knives would be.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"damn but he's good Mr Mousa, it's a toss up whether him or my brother in law would be better under the same conditions. I am sorry I kept getting your name wrong as we were coming in .I will attempt to do better from here on out." miles says with a shake of his head,"names and faces have always been a problem for me,keeping 'em straight for the first few days,but once I get them assosiated I don't ferget them."

looking about the camp then climbing up on the fifteen foot tall stand,then checking the headspace and  ammo supply on the old Ma duece that he had unloaded from the port forward sponson ,miles then covers it over with a  fitted tarp,"Mousa , five hundred rounds of ready ammo ought to be enough ,shouldn't it? I've got another case but that will take a hour or so to dig out,,and will put me late getting back to Pointe Noir."

[MWBailey]

As Rafe faded through the brush surrounding the campsite, he began to hear a decidedly non-jungle sound through the cacophony of animals and birds, wind and the soughing grass and trees through which it blew.

Tick...Tick...Tick...HIIIIssssssssss... the sounds of unevenly cooling and warming metal and a steam escape valve, the typical sounds emitted by the body and outer parts of a LandRover bush truck. He crept toward the sound, and discovered the vehicle parked under a tree, facing the newly-set-up camp. Two men sat in the cab in the heat, taking turns looking at the camp through a pair of binoculars.

"Why deed zey tell us to watch zese pillocks, Francois?" one asked the other, a very familiar voice indeed. "Zhey are obviouzly juzd a sah-fah-ree!"

"Zhey are suppozedlee here to hunt, mon ami," the other, apparently named Francois, answered. "As Gendarmes Le Garde-Chasse,* eet ees our duty to check up on such people. 'Especially, he added in a lower voice, When they are zoon to be ahcompaneed by a belle damme" his rather filthy chuckle soiled the air around the truck.

So its just Francois and Alberre, Bass thought it in Relief The two were well-known to Bass, who had both broken bread with and bribed the pair on countless occasions. Still, maybe I ought to put their backs up a bit...Bass loosened the khukri in its scabbard just in case, and appeared suddenly beside the truck, saying, "Best o' the afternoon tae  you chaps! Oi'm the Guide for the expedition you've been watching!" and had the satisfaction of seeing both men do everything except something useful to their situation in their shock and surprise; Rafe could swear Alberre, the jumpier of the two, had wet his pants -- or worse...

---------------
*Police Game Wardens; begging everyone's pardon, but I'm taking liberties with the language/terminology here

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

Miles checks with Mousa to make sure that all the stuff has been unloaded and him and the boys are fine with waiting here untill he returns.
"Mousa, 'its been an hour did  Mr Bass say he was staying or going to ride back with me,it is pushing noon and it is an hour flight straight back,I'd guess two to get all the pax cargo loaded then an hour or two backarrival at fourthirty or so ,I say an hour to get the Quality's stuff unloaded and then it will be getting dark.now i can set a ground anchor now and another when I return and moor the Areion at 100 feet up on a double anchor so she will weather vane or i can rig her to ride fore and aft and stay over head as a very big high tent roof. which do you think would be better?"

[MWBailey]

"I think he will be back shortly, Martin-Pasha," Mousa answered equably, as the near-distant sound of a steam van clattered to life and scared the stuffing out of several trees-full of birds, then faded off into the distance, toward the river. "If he had been taken prisoner he would have drawn and fired one off his guns."

Sure enough, Bass appeared a short time later, rounding teh same copse of trees beside which the Aireon was moored. "Why don't you go on ahead, Captain?" RFE said. I've found some interesting wreckage back in those trees over there. It looks like something from during the Martian Scare and I'd like to make sure there's nothing denned up in it before the Swells show up."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"sounds good to me then, Mousa looks to have things in camp well in hand , I should be back well before nightfall"miles says . going over to the forward ladder he climbs aboard ,a couple minutes later he appears in the pilots cabin and calls"Trip forward "then as the nose starts to lift "Trip aft "and the Areion starts to climb out the only sound a hissing as Hydrogen is released into the lift cells,  the propeller astern not turning as the ship gains speed and altitude while coming around in the direction of Pointe Noir. they then see the propeller start turning and the ship starts gaining speed at a rate that Rafe finds rather incredible until he remember what Miles told him about the hull construction and how much it cost him to get her built. in five minutes the ship was a mile out and a mile high and appeared to still be climbing as she punched through some low thin clouds and was lost to sight.

-----.....----

Leveling off at 14000 feet Miles sets the auto steering, and grabs a walk around bottle of O2,hooks it up, then does a walk through,checking for uninvited guests, noticing a few dead bugs as he passes through, but nothing bigger he returns to the bridge and runs a set of sun sites and cross checks the course," cross wind pushing us south, 'eh girl" he turns the auto steering off and adjust for the wind.  half an hour later he sees the plume of dust and smoke from Pointe Noir and starts the pumps to compress the hydrogen back into the storage tanks along the keel, as the pumps work the ship starts dropping altitude.  after ten minutes he shuts the pumps down and starts the spiral down to the port .

"Point Noir Port , this is Areion 4 requesting landing instructions for passenger and cargo pickup"

" Areion $ Pointe Noir  runway 185 then to hangar 21, you party's gear is waiting"
Point Noir Control Areion4 acknowleges"

Miles banks back around and lines up on the runway, and starts his approach using full rise to hold his descent rate down,the propeller still turning as he in nose high but heavy  the fins at the tail holding the stern down but as the speed drops the nose is too, realizing this miles dumps water from forward ballast and the nose stops dropping as the ship crosses back onto dryland
miles sees the hangar and swings toward it whilereversing the propeller and bringing the ship to a stop and pulls the line release leaver,then turns the dean thrusters to station keeping mode.
and looks for the ground crew .....

[The Abiliegh]

OOC: I'm working on a post, gentlemen. This one required a bit more internet-dowsing than I anticipated....

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

not seeing any one in the area he shifts back to propulsion mode and swings around parallel to the hanger after noticing the space between the hangars isn't paved,jockeying a bit he fires four ground anchors into the dirt then starts the winches and draws the Areion down to ground level.stopping when the bottom of the hull is three feet off the ground. 

[The Abiliegh]

The swells started comin' in a little after nine, each and every one more fashionably late than the last. At least they managed to wear mildly appropriate attire for the excursion.

First in was Charlie Vermaak, looking rather more nervous at the day's prospects than was neccessary. She wondered if he knew somethin' worth being nervous over. She trusted Tommy would pick up on it. Just as he settled into a chair across from her, Joe Raslo appeared at the table. He dealt in "cargo" of a undisclosed nature, and she was fairly certain that weapons and technology were chief amoungst his product line. She gave both the men a winning smile, and introduced them to Tommy.

The men got to talking, and she kept an eye on the door. Next in was Sir Percival Ovington, and his wife Marie, alongside Phillip Westin of the Bank of Belgium Congo. They spoke with animation as they took their seats, the discussion of investments sounding terribly much like gossip. The military men, Lieutenant Sebastien De Clercq, Capitaine-commandant Adam Verlinden (ret.), and his wife Genvieve, entered with the new-money couple Johnny and Penny Cuthburt. The table filled quickly, but a couple of seats remainined empty.

Word was brought from the front desk that both Martin Gifford, Esq. and Mr. David Hancock had phoned to say they could not attend the safari, and while the boy was there, Abiliegh requested that he send over the baggage to the loading bay where the Aerion would return. He agreed quickly, and scampered off in a manner that only young men can affect.

With that, she turned back to the ecclectic group gathered around her. "I thank you all for joining us." she said with a smile. "Holiday is always better with companions, yeah? For those of you who haven't been introduced yet, this handsome mug next to me is Mr. Tommy Gunn, and of course, I'm Mrs. Cross. Our guide, one Rafeal Bass; our pilot, MasterChief Martin; and our porters are all currently making base camp ready for us. So please, enjoy breakfast, and then we'll make for the airship."

She was happy that last night's socializing and familiarity seemed to carry over to the morning. She hadn't been looking forward to the possible awkwardness such a group might encounter come daylight. She found herself enjoying a lively conversation with Mr. Raslo about time-travel. She'd noticed it on him the night prior, and was glad to have it confirmed. Either way, this was a man she needed to make a friend of. The rest were chosen for the likelyhood that they knew something, but this man was here for more. It made her glad of her past with Max and Bill (and Larry, too, though she shied away from the thought of him). She and Joe the arms dealer had an awful lot in common.

The meal was pleasant, and after, Abiliegh retired with Marie, Penny and Genvieve to their suites, that the men might partake of a quick cigar while the ladies freshened up for the trip. She assumed she would be spending a good deal of time with the women, and she'd yet to get a good look at any of them. Penny was American as well, and she was a little surprised that "new money" wasn't scrawled across the woman's forehead. She wasn't likely to know much more than where the best shopping was without a good deal of incentive, but there was no telling what her husband might have mentioned off the cuff. Marie Ovington, on the other-hand, was the picture of British affluence. She was both demure and stoic, and she had little doubt that this woman's love and support was the rock under her knightly husband's feet. Genvieve VerLinden, however, was another matter entirely. To assume that she was merely cunning was like to be a dramatic understatement. She wasn't a beautiful woman, but she commanded attention with a grace that was little-rivaled. That she was drastically younger than her retired military husband spoke much as well. This was another that Abiliegh knew she had to keep close.

She stepped on the patio for a square while the other women used the washroom. The ocean breeze that had felt so refreshing that morning was now sluggish, heavy and felt more akin to a wet blanket than to anything resembling wind. Genvieve joined her.

"Eet ees not so stifling, ohn ze river, Mrs. Cross." Her belgian accent was thick and charming. "Not zat eet matters muuch, vith the suun practically ohn top ov uus."

She nooded. "The heat's certainly oppressive." She lifted her chin towards the woman, a gesture of confiding."I'll admit, Mrs. Verlinden... I've walked on Mars through a sea of hostile aliens and yet the idea of trudging though the Congo still gives me pause. The heat is the least of it."

"Ve are staying ohn zee fairly beaten path, no? Eet shouldn't be too bad for uus." She paused, contemplative. "Muuch 'as beeen tenze in Pointe Noir, I vill admit, buut ve ought to be safe."

She didn't respond with how that tenseness was affecting her. Instead, she made light. "There's no tellin' what Tommy and Mr. Bass has in store for us, really. He might not admit it outright, but Mr. Gunn likes a bit've danger, and we've been cooped up somethin' awful since... well, since the Martian campaign." She took another pull on the Sullivan-Powell and turned her face towards the ocean. "But yes, I suspect we'll be safe. We've got good men about."

She caught the woman's response more on the psychic level than on anything else, though from the corner of her eye, she might have seen the Belgium's face pinch with scorn. It was interesting, either way. This woman had little faith in her husband.

Yes. She'd done well.

OOC: Let's give the Sgt.Major a chance to interact, then we'll bring the ritzies to the boat, eh? Also, feel free to use any of the additional characters how you see fit. The only one I want to write for regularly is Joe Raslo., because I want to play a boy too

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

ooc: sounds fine to me dear lady. looks to me like you have your end well in hand.

As Miles comes from between the hangars, he sees the young man in the bellman's uniform swing down fron the passenger side of a Citroen truck labeled with the name of the hotel" Maserchef Martin, I presume? he inquires

"Got it in one" Miles replies " how much stuff you got there m'boy?
Is that truck all or is more coming?  and in a lower tone "how good is your driver
son?"
the young man replies"yes,oter than a handbag apeice for the ladies and two gun cases that the Mr Gunn wished to bring himself .in an undertone "not bad"

"Ah yes Tommy said he needed to pick up a bit of Ammo this morn".says Miles,waving to the driver he has him pull forward untill the truck is under the front of the Areion and stop.

After they open the back, Clark climbs out, too Miles surprize,then starts unloading the rest of the baggage as Miles opens the baggage access hatch.
 in a short time it is all stowed away. Miles tips the driver and the Bellman and sends them on their way.

"Clark, why did Mrs Cross send you ahead?' Miles asks the mechanical man.

Clark replys" She wasn't sure when you would make it in so I was to keep an grip on things and get it all on board. "

"I can dig it. she's bout as cautious as me then" Miles replys

"They should be along shortly as Mrs Cross says, not more than an hour. I have the watch if you want to get something to eat "

"Thanks Clark "Miles says"I'll just go aboard and make coffee, you need a wind up or anything? ''

''No"

"OK Then" Miles climbs back aboard and fires up the coffee maker. a twittering sound fills the air of the galley. Miles replies " Darlin' that Clark is a fine young'un, You could do worse when I'm gone".

OOC:gear aboard, now just awaiting passengers

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

(OOC) Mia apologia, for some reason I've had a devil of a time getting on the site...

Tommy does his best to hold up his end of the various conversations going on around him, but his attention is elsewhere. As soon as it is appropriate, he excuses himself, and finds Abi on the veranda.
"Babe, I'm going to head on out ta th' airfield...I told a guy ta meet me there, an' if he don't show, I'm goin' to have ta find out why." He gives her a kiss and then heads out.
Arriving at the airfield, he notes that Miles has gotten back, scouts around a bit and spies Matuba, the big man's face displaying his characteristic scowl.
"Good ta see ya made it, Mister Matuba. I kind of expected ya'd bring th' Italian with ya."
"He is in the bush. He'll meet us later," Matuba replies.
"Hmmm," Gunn thinks to himself, "Could be straight up, or could mean ambush." To Matuba he says, "Well, lend a hand and introduce yerself around...an' I'll tell ya now, any funny business once we're under way, you'll be th' first one I drop...savvy?"
Matuba nods, but inwardly he promises himself that before this is over, he will kill this white man...not now, but after Sabarese has the man's money and the diamonds are within reach.

[The Abiliegh]

OOC: FWIW, Miles, the bodyguard is Clark, and he can talk

Also, I'll try to get a post out before I leave for the weekend. If not, someone can feel free to get Mrs. Cross and the flock to base camp.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC all fixed now I think. sorry bout the screwups on the names .

[MWBailey]

Things had started off relatively innocously. The presence of the off-worldly artifact, nearly 3 1/2 miles from the campsite, was not surprising in itself. It was not even terribly obvious, but several years of recognizing hostiles' attempts at concealment had taught Rafe to notice such things as oddly-shaped clumps of vegetation and to try to figure out what formed that shape.

Although the actual event of the invasionary battle that had prompted the recent Martian Scare had remained top-secret or as near to it as could be managed, All airmen above a certain rank at least had heard of the International sortie in support of the Beau Rosin and her intrepid passengers at the edge of Earth's atmosphere. Even if that had not been so, wreckage and detritus from that debacle had rained down upon Terra Firma for weeks on end afterward. Africa had coincidentally been one of the heaviest-hit as far as debris was concerned, prompting headlines and legends of a "waterfall of shooting stars." As well, the sudden incidence of squidlike machines and the remains of saucers and even stranger craft littering the surface in many locations around the world had caught the attention of many people, laymen and reporters and world leaders alike.

No, the wreck itself, which resembled a diabolically-lifelike, articulated mechanical giant squid (really giant; it dwarfed the huge, seldom-seen Teuthis Antarcticus of which Bass had seen a pickled  specimen on display in the British Museum several years before), was not unusual. What was unusual was the crackle of a distinctly-human voice that sounded as though it were emanating from an electric loudspeaker, the sort that accompanied most radio- and aether-phones of the current decade, deep within the disturbingly organic-looking interior of the vessel -- and speaking alternately in Belgian...and German!

Bass managed to exit as silently as he had arrived, and faded back into the jungle, making it back to the campsite without incident. Lordy, but he had a tale to tell the others now! Bloody Nazis, he swore, They just refuse to stay in their side o' the river! And what's goin' on wi' that Belgian Captain?

[The Abiliegh]

She gave Tommy a bit of a head start before gathering the group of travellers. It would take several cab's to get them all to the air-field, but the hotel staff made quick work of it. She was grateful.

She found herself in a cab with Joe Raslo and Lt. De Clercq, and she chuckled to imagine the raised eyebrows amongst the other, more proper guests. She could very nearly hear their condemnation of "those loose American women." Were she not familiar with more than her fair share of eras in time, she might find herself uncomfortable in such an antiquated place. As it stood, though, she found a twisted sort of pleasure in the illusion of breaking the rules.

The ride was uneventful, and soon the group found themselves at the Aerion 4's dock, looking up at the anchored ship.

[MWBailey]

Eins! Zwei! Drei! the numbers, and other commands issued in German, echoed through the jungle as a squad of Waffen SS, of all things, suddenly seemed to apear along the riverbank, almost exactly at the point in the rapids at the canyon's outflow point where Rafe had forded it. When he had begun wending his way back to the campsite, he had realized that the soldiers, being the thorough bastards they were, would have eventually been tipped off by some kind of spoor that he would inadvertently have left behind, most likely a bootprint in the drifted dust by the hole in the Martian shipwreck's hull where he had entered.

He had thus left a lengthy trail in the opposite direction of the camp, leaving typical traces that would be common for even the most experienced bushmen to leave. Easy pickings for his pursuers, or so he hoped to have led them to believe.back on the cliff face four miles into the canyon, Bass watched with a low chuckle as the SS troopers followed his trail. He had left traps just in case some of the enemy's number were stupid enough to pick up apparent souvenirs or keen enough to pick a scrap of a rag from a thornbush; mostly stab- or slash-traps, most were simply a branch pulled back and sharpened adn then anchored to the trigger twig, or in a couple of cases armed with one of the myriad little hideout blades he habitually carried (several were just scraps of metal sharpened and wrapped with rag or leather to form a handle).

One such trap, baited with a gold-washed necklace he'd found in the gutter of a back alley in Capetown, sprang as a corporal grabbed the baublewith a triumphant cry -- which turned to an agonized gurgle as the stooped-over fellow was struck in the throat. He toppled backward, a small homemade spike-knife embedded in his neck just below the adam's apple. His companion drew a small semiauto pistol from his tunic pocket and blasted away at the opposite wall, to the left and well below Rafe's position. teh commander and several soldiers cursed the fellow roundly for wasting ammunition and warning their prey, and he desisted with an infuriated grumble.

An idea formed in Rafe's mind at that point, and he pulled from around his neck the sling that he normally wore there, actually as more of a last-ditch type of measure than anything else; it had gotten him several meals in the past, though, when he had lost his other tools through some mishap or other. He also drew out one of the globular grenades he had brought from Capetown, and slipped it into the sling's pouch, all the while keeping out of sight and as silent as possible. The sling thus loaded, Rafe waited for a while until none of his pursuers were lookig up or back at  his cliff face, and then pulled the pin from teh grenade, brought it up and over in the classic no-wasted-movement cast of an experienced hunter, and sent the grenade flying up, up, and then down, down, and finally down to explode barely ten feet above the troopers' heads.

Caught thus completely unawares,  the troopers and their commander flattened themselves, and then made exactly the mistake that Rafe had hoped fpr: they forged on a head, firing blindly into the brush and completely missed the point at which Rafe had walked out onto a log that jutted into the current and crossed over. Rafe smiled as the SS' shots faded away upriver, and quickly made his way downstream, forded the river once again the other way, and made his way back to the campsite.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"PWeeet"
   Miles spins around in his chair and gets up to look out the window,then flips open the cover on the voice tube

"I see 'em Clark, I'll be right down."
flipping the cover shut he goes down to the entry hatch and steps down in time to see the first of the cabs arrive under the bow of the ship.
  "Welcome  aboard The Areion Ladies and Gentilemen, flight time will be one hour and fifteen minuites, the bar and smoking lounge is avalable ,please use the designated walk ways. Clarke her will be serving as bartender for the flight so if you will follow him aboard to the lounge we will be launching in five minuites" 

[The Abiliegh]

As Abiliegh watched the swells head to the lounge, she lingered behind to speak with Miles.

"Tommy had ta'meet a man, so don't stick to close to that five minutes." She smiled just a little wickedly. "Mr. Gunn is, well, rather important to have about on this excursion. You'll keep an eye out for him while I keep my game face on with the fops, yeah?" After his afirmative nod, she continued. "Also, watch out for the sly woman, Genvieve Verlinden, and for Joe Raslo... he's a fella runnin' on our speed. Both are like to get... curious."

With that, she followed the group to the smoking lounge, and had Clark start to serving drinks, cigars and cigarettes. He charmed the upper crust with his tinny voice and his stiff drinks, allowing Abiliegh an opportunity to watch, and to wait.

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

"I can reload some ballast water to make up for the batch I dropped on the run out . tell the swells that we will be delayed for a few minutes" replys Miles. as he pulls a hose out of a hatch on the port sponson and hooks it up to the faucet next to the hangar. after fifteen minuites he sees Tommy and a very tall Black man approaching.Shutting off the water hose he detatces it from the fill point  rolls it up and re stows it in the storage locker, "Gentlemen lets get aboard , Tom if you can show Mr? to the Lounge ,I will get us on our way."

[MWBailey]

(OOC: Are we waiting for the Sgt. Major? I don't want to walk on anyone...)

[The Abiliegh]

(OOC: Are we waiting for the Sgt. Major? I don't want to walk on anyone...)

OOC: I kind of was. Seems he had something to take care of before we got underway?

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC; yes, at least i am. that's why i framed my post the way I did. hope the quake and hurricane did na'; affect his area to much.

[MWBailey]

(OOC: Just to sort of 'nudge this  thread and keep it current (in other words, not dipping below the image horizon on the Metaclubs page), I'm adding a bit of a snippet regarding Rafe ; sort of a 'passage-of-time" filler, so to speak)

Rafe made it back to camp, set up and turned on the portable aetheradio set that had been offloaded when the camp was set up, and called the ship to leyt the others know about recent events, using a common old signalman's code so as not to upset any swells who might happen to eavesdrop.

"Basecamp to Aereion, Base camp tpo Aereion, Come in, Aereion... "Advising local fauna are variable, I say again, local fauna are variable, both in number and temperament." He had also taken care to note and scout out the various game and tracks, as well as the nonhuman poredators in the area. No hyena burrows were immediately nearby, but he had heard a pack caterwauling and cackling to one another off to the west, and lion tracks and fresh scat back up in the gorge indicated that a pride was in the area. Rhinos and a large elephant herd were bedding down not two hundred yeards to the southeast of teh base camp, and the area teemed with various antelope, dik-dik, and other ruminants. He had not seen or heard any gorilla (they were usually farther up the gorge and in the mountains), but the chimp and baboon populations had seemed, from a distance, to be having a war of sorts; that was slightly unsettling, as a baboon in a bad mood could be troublesome. 

The faint sound of Drums 'way off to the north spoke (judging by what Rafe had learned of them over the years odf unrest in the population, something that sounded like one of the old intertribal dispute drumcalls altered to a quick, almost syncopated beat that seemed to Rafe to have sinister overtones. No other way to look at it, they just sound angry, he had thought as he neared the camp.

He waited until the Aereion acknowledged, and then added, "Drums to the North. Seems the locals are whooping it up."  At that moment, A closer tattoo, it sounded like a slit-log, took up the beat and added its counterpoint to the more distant beats. Rafe added over the handset, "Next-door neighbors are serenading now as well," he said, "I kicked over a small 'anthill' earlier," he added, using the slightly obscure old Great War-era Native colloquialism for a military base  "maybe they went wild, and bit a witch doctor" he said, forcing a chuckle. All quiet otherwise, "Good Hunting in the offing, I'd say. Base Camp out."

[Miles (a sailor)Martin]

OOC Bit more filler here< hope all is well with  the Seargent-Major

Miles fires up the radio

"Areion to base one, thirty minuites out. what are wind and visiblity conditions  at ground level? I am running into patchy clouds at 5-7 thou and bucking  20-30 mph cross winds"

releasing the mike button Miles goes back to trying to get above the clouds,hitting the intercom switch he says

Mr Gunn please pick up the bridge phone
 
then switches off the intercom.
Flipping several switches, Miles activates the Gyro stabilization device and dumps more Hydrogen into the balloonets fore and aft, and the ship starts climbing,  the pitching and rolling start to damp out, a whine starts building that is steadly getting higher in pitch is heard by all on board,  as the Gyro Stabilizers spin up to speed the rolling and pitching lessen and finally halt.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

OOC: With apologies to all, I must report that all is decidedly not well with yours truly. To make a long story short, surgery I had four years ago failed catastrophically, and without going into detail, I am in a bad way, and don't know which direction I'm going at the present time. The situation has taken up all my time and attention, and I am unable to continue to participate...I will attempt at this time to give us all a way out, although it will leave a mystery to the characters as to just what has happened to Gunn. Again, I apologize, but it's the best I can muster at the moment.

The intercom crackles to life, and a voice replies, "Mr. Gunn is not on the bridge, Sir. No one here has even seen him on board."

Earlier, at the aerodrome, just after Tommy had finished speaking to Joseph Matuba, he hears an odd noise behind him, but one which he recognizes, a "vwommmm vwommmmm vwommmm" which heralds the appearance of just one thing, and as Tommy turns, he sees a London Police Call Box materialize on the tarmac. The door opens, and, to his surprise, out steps his uncle, the Baron. Tommy's eyes fly wide in surprise. "Uncle!" he exclaims, "How is this possible? I thought time travel was impossible for you without catastrophic consequences because of your atomic innards!" Thistlewaite replies, "It was, but with the good Doctor's help," ...at which point a familiar curly head appears in the door behind Thistlewaite..." I had the Curie's work reversed, and the old anthracite burning equipment re-installed, just for the purpose of coming here and finding you. I will explain later, but for now we must away, lest anyone notice us...I don't even care to try to fathom the potential consequences of that! No questions, lad...if it weren't of utmost importance, I would not be here. Please get in." Gunn knows his uncle to be a serious man, and has never seen him looking more grim. All three enter the Call Box, and with another  "vwommmmmm vwommmmmm vwommmmm" it fades from view. No one else has seen a thing.

OOC: This was the best I could come up with, so that perhaps I can follow the story as it unfolds, and, God willing, come back in at a later time. Feel free to use any minor characters as you see fit, and I do hope Mrs. Cross does not grieve overmuch at Tommy's disappearance. I realize this is terribly inconvenient, and would not take this route if it were possible to continue at this time.
Cheers!