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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Colin laughed at Kieran's comment. "I sincerely hope he's a better agitator and tactician than he is at taking hints. I suspect his idea of dating is fifty pence and Mercurochrome." He sipped his drink, feeling the silence grow. Coming to this particular bar had clearly been a mistake.

"So how old are you, anyway?", the pirate finally asked. "Don't think I've never learned."

"Old enough to know better," Colin answered, "and young enough to ignore common sense." He grinned. "Seriously, though, I'm 32. I was 12 when the Martians invaded." He refilled his glass. "Our estate was remote enough that they didn't come directly towards us - they were too busy going after the larger population centers first. But our village had contend with refugees escaping London, and our manor was requisitioned as a command base by the Army."

A chuckle. "It seemed a grand adventure, when I was twelve. Soldiers everywhere, and bold talk of repulsing the enemy. I was a few years older when I realized how much of that was bravado and keeping a stiff upper lip in front of the civilians." Another drink. "But then, most of us are damned fools at that age."

Casually, he rested his hand on Kieran's. "How about you? How old are you?"
 
Kieran smiled when Colin recalled the Martian invasion from the point of view of his twelve-year-old self. He himself had had a very different experience. He couldn't really imagine a life without the British Army interfering. But that probably wasn't the best topic to bring up on a date. He glanced down at Colin's hand as it rested over his.

"Thirty-four," he answered when the question was turned back on him. "I grew up in a little town south-west of Dublin, called Kildare, and even from there the explosions were big enough we could see them. Of course we thought it was the Ulstermen so everyone was yelling about grabbing guns and rushing off to Dublin to help. Me Ma, God rest her soul, tried to keep me from going." He smiled ruefully. "But fourteen-year-olds know better than everyone, don't they? Oh God I don't think I've ever been walloped harder in my life than when I came back."

Kieran grinned, then seemed to realize that they'd been talking about an invasion that had killed thousands, maybe millions. "Sorry," he mumbled, brushing his thumb along the edge of Colin's hand, "afraid I'm not very good at this. Feels like I'm having to start all over again." He chuckled nervously.
 
Colin gave Kieran a rueful smile. "We're both pretty bad at this right now. But... uhm... you don't have to start all over. Hell, just talk to me. I'm not that different from other people." His second smile was more hones. "I can even talk about women, if you want. But that might defeat the purpose of our evening out."

He considered pouring another glass of vodka, then decided against it. No reason to get stupid drunk, after all. "Here, I'll go first. Why weren't we friends?" Leaning one elbow the table, he lifted an ironic eyebrow. "I mean, other than the whole 'two sides of a political and religious struggle that has gone on for a century and more' problem. After all, what's a century of oppressive rule combined with a death sentence for piracy between colleagues?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "More seriously, why don't we try for one more change of venue. Monseur Eiffel's tower is open to the public right now. We could go there and watch the passenger liners dock. And, if our Russian friend turns up there? We can just heave him over the side."
 
Kieran laughed when Colin answered his own question. He'd thought it had been pretty obvious why they hadn't been friends. "Aye, that whole oppression thing did put a bit of a damper on everything. And you were a wealthy ponce." He grinned and winked. "I dunno...there's still that issue, but I think I started to see you're not too bad underneath, y'know, the...English."

Then Colin suggested they go to the Eiffel Tower. Surely it was supposed to be a romantic spot. After all, while Paris was also called the City of Lights Kieran was very much aware that it was also called the City of Love. But it had been a while since he'd been aboard his ship and he missed the heights so he shrugged.

"Why not? Seems a good a spot as any. And Russian tossing..." He barked a short laugh. "I think you've just invented a new sport. We ought to paint a target over all of Paris with the tower at the center." He grinned before standing, slowly letting go of Colin's hand. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
 
"That," Colin said, staring upwards, "is a whole lot bigger than I expected. Kind of like Paris as a whole felt... inadequate."

Monsieur Eiffel's tower loomed above them, a dark shape glimmering with lights silhouetted against the night sky. Two airships, civilian models from the look of them, were moored at the top. Spotlights played over their hulls, occasionally illuminating the dark steel of the tower as well. The tower was still open, of course, but the time of night meant there were few tourists on the ground. Colin looked at the pirate, enjoying the sight of the man's strong jaw and dark hair, and grinned. "Of course, what does that say about Lord Nelson's Column, in Trafalgar Square? The Empire commemorates him by erecting a giant stone rod."

Catching Colin's hand without thinking about it, he headed for one of the legs of the tower. "It looks like the elevator's over there. Unless you really feel like taking the stairs?"
 
Kieran snickered at Colin's suggestion that the entire city of Paris had felt inadequate. It certainly seemed that way, with an enormous tower in the middle of the city penetrating the skyline. Two airships were moored at the top and their spotlights occasionally illuminated parts of the tower they couldn't see in the dark. At Colin's mention of Lord Nelson's column the pirate chuckled.

"So are you saying that England and France are in some sort of passive-aggressive cock measuring competition?" he suggested before shrugging. "Actually, historically speaking that sounds about right."

Colin took his hand before beginning to tug him over to one of the legs of the tower. "I've nothing against stairs, but I don't fancy having to climb all that way on foot."

The elevator ride was long and were it not for the operator may have been a bit more intimate. As it was though, the two stood there and watched through the glass as the city of Paris grew smaller and smaller beneath them. Finally at the top, Kieran tipped the lift operator before stepping out and walking to the edge. The view was breathtaking. With a gentle sigh he leaned on the railing and looked out over the city.

"Reckon we could probably see Madame's house from here, yeah?" he suggested with a small smile, edging closer to the officer.
 
Colin shaded his eyes at Kieran's suggestion, peering out over the city. It was a spectacular view, very much like the ones he was accustomed to from the deck of his ship. Certainly not a view he'd ever grown bored of. "Let's see..." he murmured, feeling Kieran draw nearer. "Hmmm... there's the Arc de Triomphe - certainly no great measure of visual acuity from here..."

"Ah, there it is!" He pointed. "The Hôtel de Carnavalet. Over there." Glancing sideways, he made a show of concern. "No, no, not that way!" Putting his arms around Kieran's shoulders, he leaned into the man's back just a little and brought his arm up. "Over there. Look along my arm."

This close, the pirate was intoxicating. He smelled of soap and a little cologne, and of a faint hint of sweat. It took an effort of will not to trace the back of the man's neck with his lips, or kiss his ear. "Do you see it?" he whispered.
 
Kieran looked along where he thought Colin was pointing but didn't see it. His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but the officer was ahead of him already. The feeling of the masculine arm around his shoulders was nice, comforting even, and he returned the even pressure against his back as Colin raised his arm near his head. Kieran tilted his head, leaning it slightly against Colin's arm as he looked along it.

The warm breath along his ear sent a shiver down his spine and raised goosebumps along his arms. Colin's cologne smelled of cypress and bergamot. He could get high on that scent. At the whisper in his ear the pirate closed his eyes briefly before opening them and sighting down along his companion's arm again.

"I see it," he murmured. Indeed he did see Madame LaMonte's home, but found he didn't quite care at this moment. "I was mostly joking, you know." His voice was low and warm as he glanced up. Was this how women felt? No, he wasn't a woman...but he was perplexed to find himself enjoying the feeling of masculine arms, of...protection. This all felt so surreal, like he'd awake in the morning on his ship and nothing would have changed between them.
 
"Oh, I figured that," Colin murmured, feeling his skin tingle at Kieran's warmth. "It's a good enough excuse, though..." Glancing around, he observed that - except for the two of them - the observation deck was empty. Emboldened by the alcohol and the solitude, he pressed himself a little closer against the pirate. "I've been trying to figure a way to do this all night, really. And if that Russian shows up right now, I really will throw him from the Tower."

Wind whistled, and maybe it was just that that made him shiver again. "I want to kiss you," he said, still looking out at the lights of the city. "May I?"
 
Kieran looked over his shoulder at Colin vowed to toss Ioseb off of the Tower if he showed up and grinned. The grin faded a little into a slightly more serious expression when the officer asked to kiss him. Gently the pirate turned and grabbed Colin's hips before pressing him against the railing of the observation deck. He'd taken too many shots, he knew, but fuck it. No one else was up here at this time of night so why not? He leaned in and gently kissed him, trapping Colin between the railing and his own warm body. Hands slid down to his rear, squeezing a little as he deepened the kiss and nibbled gently at his lip.

"Why don't we go home, hm?" Kieran suggested in a low, husky voice as he pulled back gently. "It's new territory, after all," he added with a light kiss as one hand slid around between their bodies to stroke Colin gently through his pants. "I admit, I've got some learning to do..."
 
The sudden shift in the pirate's mood - or was[/i} it sudden? - caught Colin by surprise. Pleasant surprise. The kind of surprise that came from an unexpected passiinate kiss and a cautious but confident hand. But Colin rose to the occasiom in more ways than one, returning Kieran's kiss with enthusiasm and rocking his hips into the man's hand to let him better feel his hardness.

"Home would be better equipped fir exploring, yes," he agreed, flattening his palms on Kieran's chest and enjoying the feel of hard muscle through his shirt. "But you seem to be picking things up quickly." Wrapping the man's tie ariund his hand, he pulled him back for another kiss. "You seem a very hands-on learner..."

He had just begun loosening that same tie, preparatory to undoing a few buttons, when he noticed the drive chain of the elevator working. Reluctantly he released Kieran, adjusting his tie and tracing his fingers over the man's chest. "Still," he said, sadly, "exploration isn't a spectator sport. Shall we?"
 
Colin just felt so good, so...so right. The cut of his trousers left enough up to the imagination to make Kieran want to rip them off right there...but that would have been awkward and windy indeed, wouldn't it? One arm around the waist, one between the thighs, hands flat against his chest...all foreign but familiar at the same time. He'd done this dance with women plenty of times before, so really it wasn't so different. Was it?

Well, Colin was rather a bit stronger than most women. The pirate grinned against his kiss as he felt his tie loosen and Colin's fingers fuss with his top button...but then he drew back. At first he scowled, wondering if he'd done something wrong or if the officer was having second thoughts, but then he too noticed the drive chain. Kieran stepped away, sighing in exasperation and rolling his eyes.

"Swear to bloody fucking God if that damned Russian is in that elevator I will help you toss him over," he grumbled, straightening his tie and adjusting himself unceremoniously as the car reached the top. "Can't even...damned attendant...bullshit..." He ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it as he grumbled his way over to the elevator. "Think Anne Marie's driver followed us? It'd be awfully convenient to get a ride back."
 
"It would be awfully convenient, wouldn't it?" Colin agreed, watching as the door slid open. "Too convenient, it appears." No chauffer appeared, sadly. Just a couple outfor the evening. A slim man in his middle years, with shaggy dark hair and a goatee, wearing a grey suit. And a petite redhead in a skirt and short-waisted jacket, hanging on his arm.

Colin stood aside for them, hoping they'd enjoy the view. From the man's rolling, swaying gait he'd probably had a drop or two too much to drink. Once they passed, he held the door for Kieran, then watched the couple stare out at the city until the doors slid shut. "Must be nice," he commented. "Finding someone to share your life with." Then he chuckled. "God, I'm getting madulin. Too much vodka, I suppose. Maybe we'll be lucky enough to find the car in the plaza?"



In the end, they had to take a cab. Anne Marie's driver was skilled, but apparently not skilled enough to have followed them on their meandering path through the back-alleys of Paris. He felt distracted the whole way back, mind burning and body tingling with memories of Kieran in his arms. So distracted was he, that he substantially overtipped the driver.

Finally, as they reached the top of the low flight of stairs that led to the door, he pulled Kieran back into his arms. "Am I being too forward," he murmured, "if I ask you to stay the night with me?"
 
"There'll be no sadness here, mate," Kieran insisted. "If it's the vodka makes you that way we'll find some good bourbon to turn it around, hm? Counteract it?"

But Colin didn't seem to slip further in a funk. In the back of the cab Kieran's fingers slid over his thigh, then to the inside and up his inseam. Really it was much easier to tease a man, wasn't it? Everything was just...right there, waiting to be touched, to be felt, to be sucked...The pirate was grateful for the darkness so that Colin might not see the heat that had risen in his cheeks. As much as he enjoyed teasing the officer he himself had to take deep, slow breaths to keep himself calm. After all, it wouldn't be much of a game if Colin knew he'd already won, would it? Still, his sideways glances didn't exactly make him seem aloof.

Finally they reached Anne Marie's Hotel de Whatever and Kieran saw he was winning by the rather large tip Colin had left with the driver. He smirked as they walked to the steps together and was slightly surprised when Colin pulled him back into his arms. He'd expected the officer to at least wait until they were inside.

"Too forward?" He cocked an eyebrow, sliding a hand to Colin's waist. "You didn't even have to ask." His free hand slid up the back of his neck into his hair to pull him in for another deep, probing kiss. "C'mon," he murmured huskily, tugging his companion toward the door, "before I tear your clothes off right here."

"Ah! Colin, Kieran! There you are! I--Are you two quite alright?" Erik Heinz-Schmidt looked rather concerned at the two men hanging off of each other.

In retrospect Kieran would think he'd covered quite spectacularly. He hadn't tripped on purpose but it only lent better to the act he was about to put on. Hanging more heavily on Colin's neck he looked up through his bangs at the linguist. "Rick?" he slurred. He was still inebriated but he wasn't in that bad of shape. "Wha' 're you doin' 'ere? 'S Madame's house, this is..." Being drunk off his arse was really the only explanation they'd ever be able to give for how they'd come in, never mind why they weren't fighting the way they usually did.

"Herr Schmidt has some previously unknown information," Anne Marie said from her place at the banister, a knowing look in her eye, "and Professor Swift thought it best the Meridian Society heard this information together. Although, it appears you may have forgotten it by morning...?" She looked around at Professor Swift who stood in the entrance hall with Erik and Sam. They had arrived several hours before but had been summoned by a servant instructed to inform them as soon as the captains were back.
 
It took Colin a moment to understand what Kieran was doing, but that moment of slack-jawed surprise helped sell the pirate's act. And if Kieran wanted to keep his inclinations private, then Colin would respect that. "Ah... morning?" he asked, blinking blearily at Anne Marie. "An... an.. info... infor... information?"

Acting like he was helping Kieran walk, Colin let himself stumble a little into the foyer. "No... we... we'll be fine, we will. Jes' need some coffee. Some coffee, and... and we'll be ready." Making a show of peering around, he flinched a little as he caught sight of Professor Swift. The older man stood, arms folded, with an icy expression on his face. "He... hello, Professor."

"Gentlemen," Professor Swift stated, voice flavored with ice. "We have a mission to attend to, and you spend your evening carousing."

"We, ah, hit a dead end," Colin assured him. "And, well, it's a shame to come to Paris and..."

"Spare me the tawdry details," the Professor interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Youth is subject to the temptations of the flesh, and those temptations abound in this city. I suppose I should be pleased you returned here this evening. Now, once Sam..."

"Howdy, y'all!" Sam called from the upper balcony. She was dressed in her typical, mannish fashion - dungarees and a button-down shirt, and calf-high black boots. All that lacked of completing the image were her holsters and her long coat, but he could see the hilt of a knife protruding from one boot. But there was something different about her. Something he couldn't quite place...

Sam came down the stairs, two and three at a time, her bootheels clattering on the marble. She took a moment to throw her arms around Erik, hugging him from behind and making him blush furiously. "An' Ah'm here, Prof. Y'all kin get us started, nao."

Colin's eyes widened as he realized the difference. Her hair, which she normally wore in a severe sort of bun, was down. Down and cut and styled! And was that... yes, yes it was. Traces of makeup! Just some lipstick and a little blush, but Sam - Tejas Ranger Sam Cavendish - was wearing makeup!

The Professor gritted his teeth, clearly appalled by her butchery of the Queen's English. "Yes, very well. Madame LaMonte, may prevail upon your hospitality for some black coffee for our prodigal Captains. I fear we will need them sober, that they may muster what little wit they still possess."
 
Anne Marie had a hard time not laughing. She'd seen both Captains drunk and they had very poor estimations of how they acted when they were as inebriated as they were pretending to be. She shook her head as though in disappointment, but kept a straight face. If they were going to keep it a secret they would have to learn to cover better than this.

"Oui, I will have Bernard serve us in the parlor," she agreed. She, too, had been quietly startled by the change in Sam that had happened over the course of only two weeks, but it was nice. She had been true to herself while no longer denying her sex and it suited her. Erik suited her.

Kieran for his part had to hide his surprise in his exaggerated drunkenness. Truly sloshed him wouldn't notice something like makeup or a haircut but secretly he was impressed. She seemed to have undergone quite a lot of change for the better. Instead of commenting, however, he merely swayed on the spot before swinging around on Colin's neck in an attempt to stagger-march after Anne Marie while making a show of staring at her rear. He grinned stupidly up at Coin then over to Professor Swift.

"Oh come off it, Professor!" he slurred at him. "We're...we're entitled t' some fun! Right?" He shook Colin's shoulders rather vigorously. "Right?"

Erik shook his head a little at the three of them. Professor Swift was a slave driver and didn't allow any sort of room for an hour or two of sight-seeing here and there. But to go out for a drunken night on the town with the Wings of Silence out there was simply irresponsible. And besides, he hardly expected that each sailor would find the other a suitable drinking partner. Sam jumped down the steps noisily, taking the last three to hug him from behind. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and polished his pince-nez nervously. Sam had been working on him, teaching him how to box and other such things, but he was still an intensely private man.

"Yes ah, shall we?" Being intensely private didn't keep him from following Anne Marie with a hand putting gentle pressure on the small of Sam's back.
 
Sam hesitted as Erik drew her chair out, then accepted it with a smile and a word of thanks. Taking his own seat, Cokin used a coffee cup to hide his expression. Was he in the right building? Was he drunker than he thought? This was...

"Drink up, man," Professor Swift barked. "We've work to attend to."

Clearly, he was. Sam might be different, but the Professor was clearly the same as he had always been. Grimacing, he began sipping his drink. Coffee was hardly his beverage of choice, and he was of the opinion that it needed more milk and sugar than actual coffee to make it palatable.

"This is good, Anne," Sam declared, sipping her own coffee. "Much better'n mah ususal brew. What kind is it?"

"It's coffee, Ms. Cavendish," Professor Swift said, curtly. His gaze turned to Colin and Kieran. "And if you two are ready, Erik has some information to share with us."
 
Kieran was grateful for the coffee, actually, though he was having just as hard a time with Sam's apparent change. Milk and sugar were for women and children; he took his coffee blacker than night. It was still bitter, though, and he shuddered as he swallowed the warm brew.

"From Columbia," Anne Marie started. "It's--" But Professor Swift cut her off sharply and she closed her mouth with a reproachful look. She and dear old Algie would need to have a talk later. Travel had always made him cranky, especially at night.

"Yes, ahem..." Erik flushed in embarrassment as all eyes turned to him. He knew why Professor Swift was in such a wretched mood and it was largely his fault. He got up, nervously checking the exits and dismissing servants where he found them before sitting next to Sam and leaning in, keeping his voice low. "It's about the Wings of Silence."

"You found something in Spain?' Anne Marie looked concerned.

"How could he?" Kieran put in, gradually easing up on his drunk act. "They're aeropirates, they don't have a country."

"Not true," Erik rebutted. He kept his voice low and kept looking nervously at the exits. "I have heard of them before, though I was hesitant to share because, well...one never knows who is listening and where their loyalties lie. I feel comfortable speaking openly here in Madame LaMonte's home so long as the servants are far away from this room and we've no chance of being overheard."

"There is no chance of that, Herr Schmidt, I assure you," Anne Marie said confidently. Most of the rooms in her home had been sound-proofed for the comfort of her clients, this one included.

"Very good. Well then, er...you see...it's like this..." He fidgeted nervously and glanced to Sam for help, but poor Erik was on his own. "I worked on the Wings of Silence during the War. Not voluntarily," he added hastily. "Kaiser Wilhelm kept a very close eye on my family and essentially press ganged me into service with his royal scientists. We worked to reverse engineer Martian technology in an effort to help Wilhelm gain advantage on the Allied forces. They use a sort of propeller system like the aerial screw in concert with lighter-than-air gasses for silent movement. We could never perform a successful test without the entire thing exploding, though...mostly because I sabotaged the tests and withheld critical information. The project was abandoned last year." He winced. The pain of the war was still fresh in everyone's mind, having ended only a few months ago; Erik had been sneaked out of the country and only able to return in the past few weeks. What he had seen had been devastating.

He cleared his throat. "There's a young intelligence officer, I've never heard of him before; one Adolf Hitler. He seems to have revived the program within the German Worker's Party--which, by all accounts, he was actually sent to infiltrate--and whoever he is working with has discovered what I intentionally left out. The Nationalists..." Erik sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Deutschland...It is a mess. A complete wreck. Nobody is keeping tabs on this...this Hitler fellow, who seems to be just trying to pick up where the Reich left off." He shook his head. There would be time to lament the state of the Fatherland later, but Erik had a sneaking suspicion he would never see his home again.
 
Colin thought hard about Erik's news. "But... lighter than air ships? That's..." He struggled for the right word. "Absurd."

"Hardly," Professor Swift countered. "Hot air balloons were used by the French as artillery spotters more than two centuries ago. And..."

"Spotters, yes," Colin agreed. "But as warships?"

"Graf von Zepplein did excellent preliminary work on lighter than air craft," the Professor responded. "Had he not perished in the invasion, I've no doubt that Germany would have had a functional aerial navy while the ither Great Powers of the recent war were still struggling to reverse-engineer the principles of the lift ray." He leaned forward. "And even more importantly, Erik worked on them."

"Ah." Colin forced down another sip of coffee. "Excellent point."

"An' if'n y'all is done jawin'," Sam said, pouring herself a refill. "Ah reckon we've got somethin' a mite more important ta chat about. Lahk, does this give us some sorta edge? An' are we lookin' fer this Ay-dolf fellow?"
 
"It did build upon von Zepplein's work," Erik said with a nod. "Then combined it with Martian technology to give themselves an edge. If one of them got shot down or captured it would be possible for the English or Americans to figure out how it works, but it would take them much longer to replicate the exact technology. Attacking Kieran's ship must have been a test to see just how successful they were."

"Bastards." Kieran shook his head and scowled, feeling comfortable with displaying his actual level of sobriety now. But then Sam interrupted with her questions and he had to admit she had a fair point.

"Searching for Herr Hitler would be wise and give us a distinct advantage," Anne Marie agreed, "but could potentially be very dangerous. Particularly for Herr Schmidt."

"What I'd like to know," Kieran put in, taking a sip of coffee, "is what exactly the connection is between the Wings of Silence and the Devil Lord."
 
"Just speculating," Colin said, taking another sip of the horrid black coffee. "But it's probably something similar to what they offered Ioseb."

"Who?" the Professor asked. "And what was he offered?"

"Ioseb, ah, uhm... I don't actually remember his last name. Something horrid and Russian. He was a leader in the failed Russian coup, one of the communists. And he was approached by the Devil Lord and offered the Machine Men."

"Really? And how did he respond?"

"He was horrified, and shot his way out."

"Way-ell," Sam mused thoughtfully, taking Erik's hand, "mebbe somethin' there at that. Any o' y'all reckon' this Ay-dolf feller might wat hisself an army?"
 
"Jugashvili," Anne Marie supplied when Colin admitted he'd forgotten Ioseb's last name. "I believe he at some point tried going by the name Joseph Stalin. One can hardly blame him for shooting his way out, however. The alternative was being made into one of those abominations."

Erik squeezed Sam's hand gently and smiled grimly. "I imagine so," he admitted, "if he intends to take up the work of the Reich again." He'd heard from several sources of this Hitler's rhetoric and how it seemed to rile up whoever listened. He'd also heard that some of his rhetoric was beginning to take a rather anti-Semitic turn which gave him a particular reason to be concerned.

"Well then we'll just have to stop him, eh?" Kieran put in with a smirk. "He's already got these Wings of Silence...can't let him get a hold of the Machine Men too."
 
"Well, Ah don't rightly reckon what this Rake is, but Kieran's right." Sam poured herself another cup of coffee, silently wishing Anne Marie could have provided proper mugs. "If'n he's lookin' ta make a posse o' silent airships crewed by them Machine Men, it's somethin' we need ta put paid to." She added cream and sugar. "Where y'all reckon we should look?"

Colin glanced at Anne Marie and Kieran, then at the Professor. "We found one of their... ah... factories? In the catacombs."

"Good heavens, man!" Professor Swift exclaimed, leaning forward. "Where? How would we find it?"

"I suspect it's gone, now," Colin told him. "It's where we found Ioseb and Yasmine..."

"Who?" Professor Swift questioned.

"Ah... the sister of an Algerian anarchist, also contacted by the Devil King."

Professor Swift pinched the bridge of his nose. "Heaven forbid," he murmured in long-suffering tones, "that anyone should provide an organized, useful report. Go on."

"We haven't been back, but I'd assume that they moved shop." He sighed. "Someone cleared out the villa in Spain, as well."

"Shoot," Sam drawled. "It was more'n a week afore anyone got back there. Y'all said this happened today?"

Colin nodded. "This morning."

"Ah reckon Ah could follow a trail, then. An' if it was anythin' like Spain, Ah reckon they ain't moved it all yet." She rose, eyes glittering with excitement. "Ah'll get mah guns. Kin y'all take me back there?"
 
"No the um, Reich," Erik murmured to her. He didn't usually correct her pronunciation--it was rather pointless, after all--but a Reich was much different from a rake and should she go among higher society he wanted to save her the embarrassment and possible ridicule. Sam was thick-skinned but he'd come in the past few weeks to glean her insecurities, and their difference in class was among them. "It's...well, it's an empire, really. Since Kaiser Wilhelm's abdication Germany has become a republic, the rest of the Empire being returned to each country's rightful owners. There have been two named Reichs in German history, this Herr Hitler sounds like he wishes to establish a third. Word is he was so distraught when the Empire fell he suffered a bout of blindness while in hospital."

But both Sam and Kieran were quite right. This needed to be "put paid to," as Sam phrased it. He raised his eyebrows when Colin announced that they'd found one of their factories. It was a place Erik never wanted to go again, but would if the mission required it. He saw Anne Marie pout when Professor Swift lamented that they weren't providing a useful report.

"Professor," she said in that voice. That voice that threatened to use his affectionate nickname right here in front of everyone, that voice that when she was a teenager she had used to get what she wanted from him. Anne Marie had learned to use that voice sparingly in the years since, but really he was being quite unfair. "Were our report not useful we'd have no clue where to go," she pointed out. "We've hardly had time to organize, and I'm sorry for that but really it's been complete chaos. We barely escaped from the catacombs with our lives and we've had that damnable Russian running into us wherever we go whenever we're close to finding a lead. And all of my contacts have been dead ends, but now that I know we're looking for German operatives," her eyes slid over to Erik, who pinkened again, "I can start anew and find more useful information. Really with as much as Monsieur Jugashvili was hanging about I thought this was all a Russian plot."

"Sit down, lass," Kieran drawled to Sam, motioning with his hand. "Like Madame said, we barely got out with our lives. On top of that, two people who were supposed to join them or die did neither and they know that we know where they are. If they haven't moved yet--highly unlikely--then they'll be extra guarded. We need a strategy before going in half-cocked." Erik quite agreed, but didn't say so; he could already tell Sam was going to fight them on this. She didn't like being kept from her "riot," and he'd learned to let others do the heavy lifting in restraining her; he suffered much more than the others when he did it.
 
"Half-cocked?" Sam repeated, incredulous. "They're right there! This morning! If'n we move now, we might catch 'em! An' if'n we don't, at least we'll..."

"Miss Cavendish," the Professor interrupted. He didn't raise his voice, but it still cut through her speech. "Please. Assume that we do find them. Then what?"

"Why, we..."

"The six of us die," he continued. "Herr Heinz-Schmidt has yet to complete his signal interrupter, which means that we will face a unknown number of fully-functional Machine-Men. How many could you kill?" Sam glared at him, and the continued speaking. "How many, before you empty your guns? And to what purpose?"

"All right, all right, Ah..."

"No purpose whatsoever. We must be able to defeat them, Miss Cavendish. Not simply make a glorious stand against impossible odds." Jamming her hands into her pockets, Sam sat down with a huff and glared daggers at the Professor. He gave no indications that he was bothered by them.

"You must admit, Professor," Colin said, speaking up, "that she raises a good point. We do need to know where they are, and where they'll be going. You have to know where to confront them, once it is time."

The Professor grinned at that, looking for all the world like the proverbial cat who'd captured the canary. "Indeed we do. And I have a strategem for that. But not tonight." He fished a pocket watch from his waistcoat. "It is far too late. Some of us are befuddled by alcohol, and others by the fatigue of a long trip. The morning will be soon enough."
 
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