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Adventures on the Lost Continent (Midnight Lass x Blood Red Romeo)

M

Midnight Lass

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I love this bar, Dandy thought to himself.

Jim "Dandy" Shatner was sitting quietly in the corner of "The Flying Toupee", a rough and tumble tavern on the edge of the city that catered to an adventurous crowd. The bar was packed with airship crews and caravan guards and all the sorts that made their livings on the edge of the Frontier that the Steam Age had opened. It was a rough sort of crowd that came her to blow off steam, but things never truly got out of hand.

For one thing, the owner was Dandy himself, who could quickly put a stop to things getting out of hand. Dandy a giant of a man who had made a name for himself by getting into and out of more scrapes than a dozen men could do in a lifetime. True, Dandy was just shy of fifty years now, and allowed a comfortable layer of fat to settle on that giant frame, but there was still plenty of muscle underneath that layer of fat, and if Dandy had lost a step or two, he made up for it with almost three decades of fighting experience across the world.

And Dandy had hired the staff of the Flying Toupee with an eye for how they could handle trouble. So things might get a little wild from time to time at The Flying Toupee, but never out of hand, and certainly never enough that the local constabulary had to involve itself.

At the moment, Dandy was sitting in the corner, waiting for a young friend of his to arrive, one Orson James. Dandy had heard that Orson had earned enough to buy himself a Zeppelin, and was looking for a crew to explore the interior of the Lost Continent. And Orson had sent Dandy a message about Dandy joining the crew.

Dandy smiled at the server who refilled his mug, then sighed as he patted his own paunch. A decade ago, Dandy would have jumped at the chance to be part of Orson's grand adventure. But Dandy was comfortably retired from the adventuring life. He enjoyed having a warm bed to go to every night, with the only adventure being cracking two heads together if some his tavern's patrons got a little too boisterous.

Still, Dandy liked young Orson, and felt he owed him a favor or two, so he was going to let the lad have a pint or three on the house, and perhaps he could steer young Orson in the right direction in recruiting his crew.

Satisfied with his decision, Dandy drained his mug and motioned for a refill.
 
Orson James stepped into the The Flying Toupee, taking a moment to chuckle at the name. Leave it to Dandy to name his bar that. Still, it fit the place in a strange way he couldn’t explain. Like seeing a baby and thinking, ‘that’s a George.’ Just something about the combination seemed right. And when he got a look at the inside, it seemed even more right for the rough and tumble atmosphere the place had. Of course, Orson fit right in.

He was a young man, only 28, though some would say that was pretty old for a man who lived his life. A whore mother and the abusive drunk father that convinced her to give up the life to marry him turned out to not make the best parents. When he was kid, his most common look was a black eye. At thirteen, he finally hit back, beating the drunk within an inch of his life. Orson took what he wanted from his unconscious father. That was the last time they ever saw each other. He lived off the money for a while before joining a scavenger shop at 14. Luckily, they didn’t care much about age. From there, he went on to serve in the Navy and on a mercenary ship. He had experienced quite a lot in his life already, but it wasn’t enough for him.

He was dressed in his regular outfit today. His simple brown shirt and gray pant were tight on his body without restricting movement, the most important he considered when choosing clothes. He wore a dark vest over the shirt, the golden chain from his combined compass and pocket watch was pinned to it and tucked into his chest pocket. Over that was his light brown duster, clearly aged but still more than durable. Contrasting that was the incredibly fresh patch on the right shoulder. It was a light blue circle with a dark red crescent within it. It was the symbol of his ship, The Midnight Curse, named for the most famous moment in Orson’s career. Finally, completely the look was a bandolier of high caliber rifle rounds running from his left shoulder to his right hip. While he didn’t have his gun on him, he still always felt more comfortable with it on. Plus, it seemed to dissuade many who might otherwise choose to target the young man.

“Dandy!” he said with a smile as he approached the older man. “Still alive, I see,” he said as he took a seat next to man, immediately signaling for a drink. He didn’t need much, just something to get rid of his stress and sense of disappointment. As soon as the young man had taken a long drink from the mug, he began his pitch.

“Listen, I heard from Reinstein that you weren’t going to say yes, but I gotta ask that you reconsider. This isn’t an opportunity of a lifetime, it’s the opportunity of anyone’s lifetime,” he said, his strong voice resonating in the small area they were in. “Did you see what the Greensburg Expedition brought in? Those idols and those jewels? That was from only fifteen miles away from Breach. Imagine what’s deeper inland! And I promise you, my ship can handle it. I didn’t buy a second hand junker, but a state of the art craft. I inspected every plate of armor on that thing myself.” He wasn’t lying either. Specialized playing had been used to protect the balloon from being easily penetrated or shot. Orson really has checked every plate for flaws, replacing more than a dozen he knew weren’t up to his standards. “So come with me. It’ll be a hell of an adventure, I can promise you that.”
 
Dandy listened with a pleased smile on his face. He might consider himself out of the game, but it pleased him to no end to see young Orson raring and willing to get out there. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a helluva trip, Orson, a helluva trip," Dandy said, emphasizing the point with a pat on Orson's shoulder. Of course, even a friendly pat from Dandy's giant hand could unintentionally make the knees of a standing man buckle, which probably made it a good thing that Orson was sitting. "But that's the sort of thing that calls for a young man, not a fat old man like me," Dandy said with a grin, patting his own stomach. "And anyway, what would I do with jewels? The Flying Toupee is all that I need." Dandy rubbed his unshaven face as he added, "Let me think about who I can get for you, though. Hard heads and hard hands aren't hard to come by, but a cool head...that's the ticket. Say, Orson, this ship you got, does it have all those gee whiz devices that I've been hearing about? The ones that let a man get all the rigging and plating down by pulling a lever and letting the gears go to work?"
 
Hearing him definitely was a blow to his spirit. Dandy wasn’t the first or second person he had approached with an offer. He was the twelfth. So far, all had turned him down. No ship was willing to risk going that deep in, and everyone thought going into the continent was crazy. So right now he was a Captain without a crew and fate did not seem ready to help him in solving that problem.

As to the no need for jewels, Orson agreed. Money was good, no doubt about that, but it wasn’t his real motivation. He could be a decently profitable trader if that’s all he wanted. No, he wanted the adventure, to see what no one else had seen. The treasure was just a very delicious addition to that main course. Plus, Orson had a personal dream involving treasure as well, so it couldn’t be completely discounted.

“The ship is outfitted with all that. Not much in the way of luxuries, but it’s state of art for performance,” he explained happily. The Midnight Curse was a beast of a ship. He had spent everything getting it. And that was almost literally everything. “You’re missing out, but if you got someone who can fill your shoes, I’d listen. I gotta find at least a few people crazy enough to go with me.” He joked, but he was definitely starting to get discouraged. He didn’t need green rookies or untrustworthy bastards. He needed adventures who’d stick by him. But the number of viable options seemed to keep dwindling.
 
"Well, Doc Cummings is over at General, you know he's good with a blade, any way you need it, and he's got an eye for spotting stuff," Dandy began. "And you remember Max Tarloff? He's the local head for Steam and Air Shipping. He might be able to hook you up with a couple of men to take care of your ship, steer her,that sort of thing. And you remember Crazy Eddie? He's Professor Murdoch over at the University now. You could probably hit him up." Dandy scratched his head thoughtfully, as he tried to think of possible muscle for Olson. "There are a couple of boxers in the local circuit I could introduce you to. One of them was a Fusilier, whatever the hell that means. British think it's important, so I guess maybe that it is. Listen, Olsen, I'd go with you, but I'm just getting too old for this ---"

Dandy's attention was distracted by a raucous laugh in the corner, where a group of men were gathering. Dandy waved for two more drinks to be brought over to the table. With a grin, he told Olson, "You're in luck, Olson. It's been a few months since we had people who didn't know...well, let's just say that it's been a while since we've been able to see the Floor Show at the Flying Toupee."
 
Orson made a mental note of the names he listed. He knew some of them, at least one of which he had been intending to get in contact with. He hoped he could find people soon. He had the resources for a couple months for an expedition, but he couldn’t afford to hang around in town for months looking for recruits. If they were qualified, he’d probably hire them at this point.

He watched the group gathering in the corner. He was able to pick up signifiers on his clothing and pick out pieces of what they were saying. From what he could tell, they were members of rival ships, one of just landed a contract the other had been gunning for. Insults and swears we’re thrown out, a few baseless accusation, one threat to bone a man’s sister, and then the first punch was thrown, followed almost immediately by several more. Orson sat back and took a drink from his mug, waiting to see this floor show.
 
Dandy saw where Orson's attention was and laughed. "No, no, no, that's not the floor show. That'll take care of itself in a second.

And indeed it did. The more experienced members in each of the rival crews, having been in the Flying Toupee and knowing that Dandy and his hired hands wouldn't tolerate an all encompassing bar brawl, quickly reigned in the more boisterous members of their gangs. If one continued watching the two groups, they would see them actually buying each other rounds within a half hour, and within two hours, forming a partnership of sorts.

"No, the floor show is over in that corner," Dandy said with a laugh.

In the corner that Dandy pointed to was a diminutive, conservatively dressed young Japanese woman, her long hair in a loose pony tail, trying to maneuver past a group of men who seemed intent on stopping her. The young woman was trying to politely move away from the encircling men, but they continued blocking her way.

If the men in question had any sense, they might have taken it as an ominous warning the fact that the bar had grown quiet as all attention turned to the waitress and the men harassing her. Even more ominous was the fact that the individuals seated closest to the men had scooted away.

But the men didn't notice any of these warning signs. And then one of the men did something that made the entire bar gasp in shock.

He slapped the Japanese woman on her backside.

Instantly the woman grabbed the hand in a blur of motion and snapped it back in an unnatural angle, making the man scream in agony.

There were ten men in the group, but even if they had been prepared, they would have never stood a chance. The woman moved quicker than the eye could keep track off, and when she leaped or jumped, it was as if the law of gravity became a hesitant suggestion. One of the men made the mistake of pulling a knife. She deftly took 8it from him, threw it, and pinned another man's hand to the table with her throw. Another man pulled a pistol. The Japanese woman took it away from, shot another man in the knee, and then reversed the gun, clubbing the original owner senseless.

In less time than it took to describe it, the ten men were either unconscious or immobilized by pain.

"Like I said, you're lucky," Dandy said, turning his opinion back to Orson. "All the regulars know to be polite to Miharu. Now, as I was saying, I got a couple of boxers I can introduce you too, if you'd like to interview them."
 
Orson could barely hear the man. His eyes were locked on the girl. Orson had good eyes, some of the best. He had been able to none of the other patrons had done. He had followed her every movement, and he was transfixed. He had never seen someone move like that. It was like he had been watching a dance. Her perfectly executed movements were a thing of beauty. He had wanted Dandy in his crew. This girl, Miharu, he needed in his crew.

“I don’t think any of them will be needed,” Orson told his friend as he stood up. He was suddenly feeling that same excited optimism he had felt when he had first bought the Midnight Curse and started this recruitment mission. He took a deep breath, adjusted his jacket, and approached the dangerous beauty.

“Excuse me,” he said, greeting the woman once he got close. Dandy’s men were currently removing the assaulters from the premises, letting Orson focus on her. He made sure to maintain a respectful distance between them. He had already seen how she responded to disrespect. “I am Captain Orson James. Can I buy you a drink?”
 
"I'm working right now, Captain James, but thank you," Miharu answered politely but firmly, returning to busing the tables in the area where she had recently took apart the group of men that had been harassing her.

"Why don't you take a break, Miharu," the voice of Dandy said from behind Orson. Dandy's large paw clasped Orson's shoulder as he added, "Captain James is a good friend of mine. And more importantly, a well mannered friend when properly motivated. James, I've got to go see some delivery guys at the back door. I'll catch up with you shortly. You, whatever these two want, on the house," Dandy told a nearby server before adding, "I'll be back in a jiffee," as he headed toward the back.

"Water, please," Miharu told the server before taking a seat. "I thank you for your kindness and generosity, Captain James. Mr. Shatner must be a good friend of yours indeed."
 
Orson owed Dandy now, that was for sure. He had been worried when she had insisted that she working. Luckily his friend had saved him. “We used to work together. He helped me learn, and we both saved each other at different points. I found that’s a pretty good way to make friends,” he answered as he took a seat. He ordered a light ale, not wanting to get drunk while talking to her.

“So, I don’t want to mince words. I’ll get right to the point. I’m here because of that,” he said, gesturing over to where the fight had taken place. “You’re incredible. And incredible is what I need. I’m putting together an expedition to the Lost Continent. And I don’t mean one of those weak expeditions that only goes a mile in from the beach and calls it a day. I’m talking about actually exploring the place,” he said, his professional tone taking on his enthusiasm for this quest. “I want to go in deep, see what really lies in there. But it’ll be dangerous. I need people who can handle themselves. People like you.”
 
Miharu blinked once, but otherwise her face revealed no other emotion. "I am afraid that would be quite impossible, Captain James. I am a simple serving girl, nothing more. And although I am quite capable of defending my own virtue, what you suggest, me traveling with you and other men, would be quite beyond what decorum would allow."

"Nonsense, my girl," a returning Dandy boomed, his giant hand landing on her shoulder. With any other man, this contact would have elicited a violent reaction, but coming from Dandy, it only caused a pretty blush to appear on Miharu's face. "Orson, my boy, what you saw today was just the tip of iceberg," Dandy continued as he joined the two at their table, signaling a server to bring over another round of drinks. "I would have suggested Miharu myself for your merry band, but I wasn't sure how you felt about a member of the fairer sex on board your airship. Some hold that it's bad luck. And your ship is big enough for her to have her own quarters, isn't it? Miharu is like my own flesh and blood, and that sort of thing is important to me." The last was said with a complete lack of joviality that was usually present in the big man's demeanor, and there was a hint in the older man's eyes that made one remember that Dandy was still, for all his good humor, one of the most dangerous men alive.
 
Okay, Dandy was earning his own cut at this rate. Still, Orson was more than grateful for the older man’s assistance. “There would be no issue arranging that,” he explained. “You could have your own room with a locked door. Since no others have signed up yet, anyone who did would need to agree to not lay a finger on you. If they did, I’m certain you’d break it off. Then I’d drop them off wherever we were and leave them behind. And I promise you, there are no such superstitions on my ship. I don’t believe in them.” After all, it was such a superstition that traveling to the heart of the lost continent would lead to certain death. It was why so few ships ventured out there. He decided that this wasn’t the time to add that in.

“I can’t force you to come, and even if I could I wouldn’t,” he told her, becoming serious himself. “But you have talent, enough to buy you a chance to see the world. And if you don’t like it, when we come back you can leave the crew and come back, no hard feelings. But I ask that you consider it. I don’t imagine offers like this will come by every day.” Well, that was a pretty good sales pitch. At least, he hoped it was. He really wanted this one woman army on his crew. Not to mention, the sight of a beautiful woman would do good for his soul on such a journey.
 
Miharu and Dandy exchanged a look, and then the two started laughing. Well, to be fair, Miharu made a small, polite giggle, while Dandy's guffaw threatened to encompass the entire bar.

"Captain James, forgive for finding humor in your guarantees," Miharu began, while Dandy wiped the tears out of his eyes, catching his breath while still chuckling. "As I said, I am capable of protecting my own virtue. However, I am from a culture in which appearance is as equally important as the reality which lies underneath. I would not require you to maroon for anyone for my sake. I have found a single practical demonstration of my resolve would suffice. But if I were to join you in your endeavor, I would appreciate my own room. However, as I said, I am just a poor serving girl."

"Pfft!" Dandy interrupted. "A simple serving girl! That's a lot of rubbish. Olson, my boy, let me tell you something about this simple serving girl."

"Mister Shatner, please!" Miharu pleaded, but Dandy wasn't having any of it.

In language that was both colorful and, in the light of a different world and era, very politically incorrect, Dandy began telling the story of how he rescued the teenaged daughter of a Japanese friend of his a few years back. Dandy blamed something called the "Medici Restoral, or Meiji Restoration, or something like that, for eliminating the warrior caste that Miharu and her father belonged to. "She can do things with those fancy blades of her that would make your heart stop" the big man assured Orson. The father didn't make it out alive of Japan, so Dandy took the girl in, treating her like his own daughter. Miharu insisted on "earning her own keep", as Dandy put it. At first he was worried something would happen when he wasn't watching, but then the first time someone did try to take advantage of Miharu, the floor was littered with unconscious bodies.

"Only thing I had to do was teach her firearms, and she's as good a shot as you see in those traveling cowboy shows," Dandy asserted, much to Miharu's embarrassment.

"And that's not all. She's a guide at Mount Kuri a couple of times a year. A senior guide," Dandy stressed. Mount Kuri was the closest mountain to the city, and had been thoroughly surveyed and excavated over the years. Still, archaeologists and other treasure hunters insisted that there had to be somehow undiscovered corner on the old mountain. There wasn't, of course, but you still needed individuals who were capable of leading ascents and descents on and in the mountain.

Dandy then described Miharu's part time stint as a bodyguard for the daughters, wives and sweethearts of visiting dignitaries, and told a few slightly exaggerated tales concerning a few of these employments. By the time Dandy was through, Miharu was thoroughly blushing.

"I appreciate your praise, Mr. Shatner, but I am still but a simple serving girl," Miharu insisted. "My place is here."

"Nonsense," Dandy responded. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, then added, "Tell you what, Miharu, why don't you hold off making a final decision and, in the meantime, you can escort Orson around the city, while he gathers the rest of his crew. That sound okay with you, lad?" Dandy asked Orson.
 
He listened, enraptured by the story. He needed Miharu on his ship. He also didn’t at all mind their laughter. It at least showed a level of comfort more so than mockery. At least, that’s how he chose to see it. Still, weapon training, experience in foreign nation, the ability to navigate mountains, being incredibly cute, these all were all things that were driving him forward with the recruitment.

He wanted to speak up against her calling herself a simple serving girl. It rubbed him the wrong way, but he bit his tongue. No need to get intense with her right now. No, she clearly had some interest in his proposal. That was clear by her saying if she joined the expedition. However, her hesitation might end his chance right here. But Dandy once again came in with a save. Her accompanying him would give her a chance to see he was legitimate and see the caliber of the other men that would make up his crew.

“I’d be honored if you’d show me around. I haven’t been here long and I’d rather not spend all my time wandering around lost. You’d be a great help,” he insisted. His excitement was growing, but he contained it as best as he could. It felt more and more like his dream was coming true.
 
Miharu hesitated, biting her lower lip. Dandy lightly clapped her on the shoulder, telling her, "Get upstairs and get your working clothes on." Miharu nodded, stood up and quickly headed toward the stairs.

Dandy turned his attention back to Orson. "I'd say it would be a good idea to warn any potential prospects of the health benefits of being a gentleman around Miharu, but if you pick up any lads from around her, well, my girl enjoys something of a reputation around here already. Quite an adventure you're lining up, Orson my lad. Makes me wish I was a few years younger and lighter. So, where you thinking of heading first for your recruiting drive?" Dandy asked.
 
Orson pauses, going over what he knew as he carefully considered them. Eventually, he defaulted to random. “Doc Cummings first. We need a surgeon to undo any mistakes we make. The crazy Eddie. We’ll need someone who can make sense of what we discover and chart it. He’s out best bet there. And then I’ll see if Tarloff can help me out. There’s got to be at least someone he can spare. He owes me, after all,” he finished with a grin.

“And thanks. She wouldn’t have given me the time of day if you hadn’t backed me up. I owe you,” he told his friend as the young beauty returned. “Shall we go?” he asked. In a way, it almost felt like he was taking her out for a date away from her father’s watchful gaze. “We need to find Doctor Cummings at the general hospital.”
 
Miharu had descended back down the stairs in fresh clothes, wearing slacks, a loose but conservative plain blouse, and an airy jacket from which a glimpse of metal could be seen at the right angle.

"Well, good luck, Orson," Dandy said as he stood up and too, Orson's hand. The extra squeeze in Dandy's handshake and the glint in his eye clearly conveyed the message and remember, if you do something to harm my little girl, I'll be nailing your nutsack over the bar.

Miharu, innocent of the "nuanced" conversation going on between Orson and her guardian, asked, "Where would you like to proceed to first, Captain Olson?"
 
Orson understood the message, but wasn’t intimidated at all. He had no intention to do anything of the sort, so the threat didn’t bother him. He was just appreciating Miharu in her casual clothes. A beauty like her stood out no matter what they were wearing. It’s a good thing she knew how to protect herself and Dandy glad taken her in. Another reason he wanted her: good luck (maybe).

“The general hospital,” he explained as the duo left the Flying Toupee. “An old acquaintance, Doc Cummings, works there. We’ll neededical assisstance if anything goes wrong. He seems like a good choice,” he told her. However, he realized that they were alone now. They could talk more freely. “Did Dandy ever talk about him? Or any of us?”
 
"Mister Shaten had many interesting stories to tell about you, Captain James, when he learned you were coming. He said you proved there was a Heaven, since Providence had saved you many times from your foolhardiness," Miharu added. "Doctor Cummings he has expressed many admirable traits about, although..." her Miharu frowned, her eyebrows furrowing "...as of late,I believe Mister Shatner is worried about Doctor Cummings. I believe he feels that Doctor Cummings imbibes too much of stronger spirits at time."

As the two approached the entrance to the hospital, Miharu quickly changed the subject. "For your airship, Captain James, will you require medical supplies? If so, while we are here, we might contact a friend of mine. I would call her a herbalist, but she does more than that. She studies how different plants can be used to treat her patients." Miharu shrugged and blushed with embarrassment. "I apologize for the limits of my words. Anyway, she is a very good doctor, and I am sure if you talk to her after a conversation with your friend, you will find her a very useful source of knowledge for what medicines to take along."
 
Orson smirked. That did sound like Dandy. And it also sounded like him. He was a bit reckless from time to time. And if they’re talking about reckless behavior that should have gotten him killed, she was probably referring to the Midnight Curse. Still, she was following him, so it couldn’t have turned her away too much.

Hearing about an herbalist greatly piqued his interest. Medical supplies were hard to come by on long journies and was honestly a leading cause of death. Wounds that might be easily treated elsewhere become lethal. But an herbalist could greatly reduce that danger, especially when you consider all of the natural wilderness on the lost continent.

“I think I’ll have to pay her a visit if she comes with your recommendation,” he said with a smile to the blushing girl. “And don’t worry. I can understand your words perfectly fine.” They entered the hospital and asked to see Doctor Cummings. A...look passed across her face when he did so, one he couldn’t quite understand. Still, she gave them instructions on where to go. They made their way to his office, opened the door, and were greeted by the strong smell of alcohol. Orson really hoped it was medical purposes, not drinking. He hoped, but he doubted.
 
"Orson, my boy," a jovial voice called out from behind the desk. "Come in, come in, take a seat." Behind the desk sat a man in his forties, lean build, thinning hair, with a hint of a tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeve. Even with the proper attire, Doctor Elija "Doc" Cummings looked less like an established surgeon and practitioner at the city's primary hospital and more like the adventurer he had been for the past two decades, able to use a blade to fight off brigands or do impromptu surgery on a makeshift operating table. Doc's bloodshot eyes and red, bulbous nose, though, didn't

"Take a seat, Orson, take a seat, let me pour you a drink," Doc Cummings said, as he picked up a decanter full of bourbon. As he poured two glasses he turned to Miharu. "Why don't you go find Dr. Motwani? Orson might want to talk to her about stocking up his onboard pharmacy."

Miharu's nose had wrinkled at the smell of whiskey when she had stepped into the office. When Doc made his offer, she smiled, gave a nod to Doc and Orson, and left Doc's office, closing the door behind her.

"So, Orson," Doc said, taking a sip from his glass, "I know you came looking for a doctor for your ship's crew, and one who wouldn't flinch if a little knife work was needed. Instead, you found a booze hound, and are wondering how that transformation happened. And, if you thought about it, you'd wonder why the hospital would be letting an obvious booze hound stay in his office on grounds, even if they did relieve him of his surgical rounds. So have you got that far in your questioning, Orson?" Doc asked with a lopsided smile.
 
Orson watched the man with not a small amount of sadness and disappointment. Doc had been incredible, a man who had removed a bullet lodged in his shoulder at only 15. If it hadn’t been for him, it’s unlikely Orson would still have his arm. To see him reduced to this, it was sad. But Orson wasn’t the type to be ruled by sentimentality. He knew what this meant.

He couldn’t help but smile at the man’s questions. His wit was still as sharp as ever. But Orson decided to correct him. “Those were questions I asked myself, but none that I planned on asking you. But if you want to answer, feel free to. Though I know that won’t change decision to not ask you to join my crew won’t be changed.” He was honest with the man. While Orson would have been adamant about having the old Doc on his crew, this man wasn’t him. He needed someone who would always be ready and able to save lives. He wasn’t up for it, and Orson wasn’t willing to gamble that his instinct was wrong.
 
"Ah, the diplomacy and judgment of youth," Doc answered with a sad smile, as he drained his glass and poured himself another tumbler full of bourbon. "If it consoles you any at all, Orson, as a doctor, I would advise you against recruiting me at all. I'm in the final stage of Chimera Bite. I give myself six months to live, tops. Which is why the hospital had kept me on. Outside of Charing Cross, or possibly Vienna General, this city has the finest Chimera research laboratory in the world. And who better than a man with Chimera Bite to handle the little buggers we have here in General's laboratory?" Doc added with a grin.

Doc's confession of being in the final stages of Chimera Bite explained his drinking condition. The Chimera, or more formally, Thatcher's Chimera, was a small lizard native to the interior of the Lost Continent. The chimera got its name because of it's misshaped head, the tiny 'barb' at the end of it's tail, and the fact that its head with a distinctively darker color of green than the rest of its body during the earliest stage of adulthood.

It was during the earliest stage of adulthood that Thatcher's Chimera was at its deadliest. The Chimera's saliva had a small amount of poison used to neutralize its prey, usually small rodents and reptiles. It would also leave a nasty, painful mark on any human who got bit, but the mark would clear up within a week's time.

When a Thatcher's Chimera first became an adult, however, the poison became particularly toxic. Any human being bitten by one ran the risk of contracting Chimera Bite, an incurable condition that would attack the human nervous system and eventually prove to be fatal. The fermented mash of cereal grain had been proven to be able to address the more debilitating effects of Chimera Bite. Even so, the last month of Chimera Bite had been documented to be particularly painful to its victims.

Rumors persisted among the natives of the Lost Continent that there was a plant whose leaves could cure Chimera Bite, but as to date, nothing had been found to abate the condition.

"I've kept it rather quiet, Orson," Doc continued, a somber note entering his voice. "I'd rather have my former colleagues' disdain for my supposed descent into alcoholism than their pity. But..." Doc rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a small discolored patch on his forearm "...I won't be able to do that for much longer, when this starts to spread. But outside of you, the only one among our old gang who knows about this is Crazy Eddie, and I'd like to keep it that way." There was a momentary tightening around the eyes when Doc used Crazy Eddie's name. Professor Edward "Crazy Eddie" Murdoch had gotten his moniker because, even though he was perhaps one of the most knowledgeable archaeologists to actually have gone any depth into the interior of the Lost Continent, he was also known for being reckless when it came to retrieving valuable artifacts. Sometimes, according to scuttlebutt, very reckless with the welfare of his fellow adventurers.

"Anyway," Doc continued, his easy going manner returning, "You really don't need a red nosed surgeon. A competent field medic will do. Speaking of which, since you have Dandy's ward tagging along with you, does that mean you'll have her flying along? She's proven to be a fine field medic on her jaunts up and inside Kiru, And you'll need to talk to Doctor Motwani when Dandy's ward brings her back. She's the fine young doctor who's taken over my surgery rounds. Best practical botanist I've ever run across. And I know there are a number of individuals who haven't quite taken with women entering medicine, but I'd put Doctor Motwani against any of the lot. She'll fix your medical stores right up. Even be able to suggest a couple of books on the flora of the Lost Continent for your ship's library."
 
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Orson was quite shocked by the revelation. He didn’t know that Doc had even been to the lost continent, let alone contracted a lethal disease from it. It was a sad state of affairs, one he doubted he could make a comeback from. Orson also held regret from how he had treated the man, but it passed. He needed to be honest in situations like this even if it was rude. Though he’d make a note to try to be a bit more diplomatic.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he reassured the man. His mind was racing with thoughts at the moment. He had saved Orson’s life in the past. Now, he could only watch the man dying slowly in front of him. However, an idea was forming in his head. Next to nothing was known about the natives of the lost continent. They avoided contact, especially after more than one violent encounter with foreigners. But Orson had heard the rumors that they had a cure for Chimera’s Bite. They were only rumors, but they were something.

He chatted with the doctor for a bit, asking for details on his condition and what it was like. He was waiting for Miharu to return with this botanist friend of hers. He was beginning to think that she might be the best possible recruit for the crew. And if he could get her on board, it might make Miharu more willing to come along as well. And it may even save Doc’s life.
 
Miharu chose that moment to return. Knocking on the door, she entered in with aa woman of Central Asian descent, clad in a white coat over her clothing, a practice that was becoming the norm in hospitals run by Europeans. Doc hurriedly rolled down his sleeve, a motion which Miharu took no notice of but which the newcomer certainly did. She shot a look at Doc immediately, concern in her eyes.

"I was just informing my friend Orson here about a little research the hospital was conducting, that hasn't been released to the general public yet, not until peer review becomes necessary. But where are my manners." Standing up, Doc gestured to the Asian doctor. "Orson, I am privileged to introduce Doctor Ayisha Motwani who, though an outstanding surgeon, physician, herbalist, pharmacist and botanist, has all her accolades overshadowed by the fact that she is an unstinting teetotaler. Doctor Motwani, may I introduce my inestimable and dashing young colleague, Captain Orson James?"

"A pleasure, Captain James," Ayisha responded, extending a delicate hand. "Doctor Cummings had spoken of you often, and very highly too."
 
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