Captain Lindsey Holt sighed like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He politely dismissed Gecko who gave their passenger a wary glance, but did as he was asked.
When they were alone Reynolds closed the door and took a seat opposite the captain.
“That might not have been a good move, that thing with Brewer,” Holt warned.
“I can handle him and Wade,” Reynolds replied.
“But I can’t afford to lose another pilot, nor half my damned crew,” Holt countered sourly.
“Your staffing problems aren’t what I’m here to discuss,” Reynolds said somewhat coldly. “Tell me about your issue with Schimler.”
Holt seemed to visibly deflate.
“From the beginning then,” Reynolds prompted.
“Eric Schimler and I are very old acquaintances and lifelong adversaries. Eric however, takes our opposition to a far greater extremity than I do. I got the girl, is essentially what our original disagreement was about. That was years ago, and fate has had our paths cross more than either of us would care for, and unfortunately on all but one occasion Eric has come off the worse.”
“He likes to think of himself as a modern day Moriarty, thinks he’s some kind of criminal genius and has built himself quite a following of thugs, thieves and ne’er-do-wells.”
Reynolds was sitting quietly letting Holt tell his tale, but interjected, “What is his issue with Lilly?”
Holt sorrowfully shook his head. “She was just an easy target, one of my crew exposed and an easy way to get at me, make me pay up.”
“Pay up?”
“It’s this old girl,” he said cocking his head towards the nearest bulkhead. “She’s an unusual bucket of bolts to say the least and when I got hold of her she was in a sorry state and needed a lot of work doing and a fresh new crew. She cost a fortune and then some – so much so that I had to go to a bank for a loan. Trouble was neither me nor the Witch were seen as a very safe investment, so I was forced to deal with some shadier types, a man named Julius Fable, who worked for a bank and could secure me the loan, but the interest payments were astronomical, and it wasn’t exactly a legitimate transaction.”
“And you haven’t been able to pay off the loan?” Reynolds put in.
Holt shook his head.
“How much do you owe?”
Holt swallowed hard. “At my last calculation I owe three million pounds.”
“Bloody hell!” Reynolds exclaimed loudly.
Holt nodded in understanding. “Yes, my initial investment was two million. I borrowed another two. So far I owe another million in interest.”
“If you owe Fable, why is Schimler trying to get you to pay up?”
“Because he got wind of my predicament and has offered to press the matter with me for a small fee of his own, no doubt.”
Reynolds remained silent for a bit scratching his chin. “You can’t pay Fable?” he asked at last.
“No.”
“Business not good?”
“I’m doing all right, thank you.” Holt’s answer was terse.
“I’m not trying to offend, captain, just get my head around the situation.”
“Sorry, Lord Reynolds. I am getting by comfortably, meeting all the running costs and keeping my crew paid. What I cannot seem to do is build up money enough to put aside towards paying off the loan.”
“Sounds typical of many businesses I have seen,” Reynolds said.
Holt grunted. “Never bloody wanted a business,” he scoffed, “just wanted my own boat to captain as I saw fit!”
The corner of Reynolds’ mouth curled up at that. “I take it you’ll lose the boat if you don’t cough up?”
Holt gave a derogatory laugh. “That and the use of my legs!”
“And which would Fable rather have, the money or your boat?”
“Fable’s a banker and a businessman. He doesn’t want a big sodding boat drawing attention to his activities.”
“Good,” Reynolds said cheerfully, “Then I have a proposal for you, Captain.”
Holt gave the baron a suspicious look, he had a good idea where Reynolds was going with this.
“My Lord Reynolds, I understand you may have some guilt issues regarding Mr Hartfield’s death and that throwing money around may help alleviate you of some grief, however, I would not wish to impose any more of my problems on you. You already employ my daughter, keeping her from this life and the hardships it brings, and for that I am grateful, but that is as far as I wish my debt to you to go, sir!”
“You consider yourself indebted to me for employing Paige?” Reynolds asked a little surprised.
“Of course,” Holt said firmly. “It might not be a position in keeping with our family’s former position, but given the circumstances I feel that housemaid to a Peer of the realm is not without dignity. And I hear you are schooling her too, which is beyond anything I had hoped for these days.”
“Please captain,” Reynolds said levelly, “There is no debt with regards to your daughter, she is a pleasure to have around. She shakes the other staff up every now and then and hits me with a good dose of reality, so like I say – no debt.”
Holt said nothing but looked humble.
“And likewise, Mr Holt, there would be no debt regarding my proposal.”
“You were about to offer me money, Lord Reynolds?”
“Indeed I was!”
“Then I would be indebted to you for it. I have my principles, my Lord, and I feel your offer to help with my own shortcomings would only add one more person into my list of debtors”
Reynolds smiled, “Captain, you misunderstand me. I was not offering to pay your debt, or even a part of it. And I certainly wasn’t looking to buy the debt from the bank. No, my offer was simpler. Let me buy the Witch off you.”
Holt nearly choked. “What?”
Waterwitch
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Re: Waterwitch
“I’ll buy her,” Baron Roborough stated gain.
“But that would be over…”
“Over five million pounds, yes I know,” Reynolds wasn’t going to say, but it really was an easy buy for him. He wasn’t expecting it to give him decent returns on his investment, but he was looking at it more as an asset. Reynolds knew that the time was coming for him to resume his families role as agents for the crown and the Witch would be a splendid tool to have in his box.
“No,” Holt said abruptly. “No, sir, I could not. I have worked hard to get her up and running and to make a name for her. She is all I have known for the last ten years. I could not abandon the dream.”
“And nor would I ask you to, Lindsey. I know nothing of running a ship, submarine, airship thing. I would have you stay on with her, be her captain, run her life as you have been doing. The only difference would be the flag she flies. And that would only be if you chose to show it. I would leave you to make your fortune as you see fit, and all I would require is her use whenever I needed it.”
Lindsey Holt’s face turned red and he seemed a man in a dilemma, until suddenly he sprang from his chair, his fingertips outspread on the table top so that he was leaning forward slightly, as though trying to impose himself over Lord Roborough.
“I am afraid the Waterwitch is not for sale, Lord Reynolds, and I would thank you to keep to your own business and leave me to mine. Good day, my Lord!”
It was said with a degree of finality that told Reynolds the discussion was over.
“But that would be over…”
“Over five million pounds, yes I know,” Reynolds wasn’t going to say, but it really was an easy buy for him. He wasn’t expecting it to give him decent returns on his investment, but he was looking at it more as an asset. Reynolds knew that the time was coming for him to resume his families role as agents for the crown and the Witch would be a splendid tool to have in his box.
“No,” Holt said abruptly. “No, sir, I could not. I have worked hard to get her up and running and to make a name for her. She is all I have known for the last ten years. I could not abandon the dream.”
“And nor would I ask you to, Lindsey. I know nothing of running a ship, submarine, airship thing. I would have you stay on with her, be her captain, run her life as you have been doing. The only difference would be the flag she flies. And that would only be if you chose to show it. I would leave you to make your fortune as you see fit, and all I would require is her use whenever I needed it.”
Lindsey Holt’s face turned red and he seemed a man in a dilemma, until suddenly he sprang from his chair, his fingertips outspread on the table top so that he was leaning forward slightly, as though trying to impose himself over Lord Roborough.
“I am afraid the Waterwitch is not for sale, Lord Reynolds, and I would thank you to keep to your own business and leave me to mine. Good day, my Lord!”
It was said with a degree of finality that told Reynolds the discussion was over.
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Re: Waterwitch
As Holt stood glaring at Reynolds, the baron shrugged and said, “I did not mean to offend, captain. It is merely another option on the table for you. Please consider it when all other options are exhausted.
The Peer’s calm and understanding tone seemed to bring Holt off the boil, and the man sat down with a very long sigh.
“My apologies, Baron, perhaps I was a little harsh then. You offer is indeed a generous one and one I will certainly consider. You must understand, I have worked very hard to keep the Witch going, and the thought of losing her…”
“That is beauty of my offer, captain, for you there would be very little change, other than you will not have a massive debt to worry about and ample money in your pocket. If you can cope with the demands of one of the Empire’s aristocrats, and I shall warn you now that they might seem the most unusual of demands at times, then I can’t see a downside for you.”
“Indeed my lord, but you will give me time to consider?”
“Take all the time you need, captain, the offer remains open even if you turn me down,” Reynolds smiled.
There was a silent pause after which Reynolds spoke once more.
“Well, captain, we go from one sensitive subject to another. I must speak with you about Miss Buxley.”
Holt raised a hand to stop the baron. “You need not worry about that situation, Baron, that is an affair I must deal with.”
“On the contrary,” Reynolds objected. “I made a promise to a man as lay dying in my arms. It is a promise I have every intention of keeping. I have to help her. What she is going through,” he paused letting Holt’s own imagination fill in the blanks.
Slightly irritated by the memory Holt said, “It is a terrible ordeal the Buxley is going through, but it’s not real, I mean, how much harm can they really be doing?”
Reynolds stared at Holt for a moment. Was he detecting denial? It sure sounded like it and that wasn’t good for Holt or for Lilly.
“What Lilly is going through will affect her mind as much as if she was undergoing the ordeal in the Prime,” he said and swathe colour drain from Holt’s face.
“Yes, at first she will be able to convince herself that it is not real, but in the scope it feels real. Her mind will experience the pain and trauma we have seen her undergo as though it had actually happened, and that will not leave her quickly. If she stays there too long, without the grounding of reality, then she’ll never be able to put the events aside and her mind will break,” Reynolds warned.
There was a long silence and Reynolds watched Holt for some kind of reaction. He could see there was some sort of internal debate going on and decided to let it come to a head without pushing for an answer.
Eventually Holt seemed to bolster himself and sat more upright in his chair.
“I am taking us to Haven. It is a large complex under the Atlantic, almost an undersea city. It started off as a small hidden British supply depot back in the twenties, but they abandoned it just before they completed it and it got taken over by other less savoury types who have expanded it massively. It is a veritable den of thieves Lord Reynolds, so I recommend you and your family stay aboard the Witch while we are there.”
“Haven?” Reynolds inquired. “It’s not somewhere I have heard of before.”
“And why should you?” Holt quipped and Reynolds thought better of replying.
“It’s just off the coast of Bermuda,” Holt informed him. “In fact you can get there from the island, through a long tunnel, though it’s heavily guarded by ‘D-Men’.”
“D-Men?”
“Arden Dembolla, a big black hulk of a man from the West Indies. He’s the so called ‘king’ of haven. His followers police the city, in a manner of speaking.”
“I see. Why Haven?” Reynolds was trying to figure out what relevance the place had.
“There is a man there who knows Schimler. I hope to try to reason with him. Also there is a doctor there who has dealt with long term scope-submersion before. Apparently he’s very good at keeping the bodies alive while the mind is elsewhere.”
Reynolds didn’t feel comfortable with all this. “Captain,” he said quietly, “before you go to bat with Schimler’s associate, please allow me to try something. I have a fair talent in the scope, all I need is a good access point and I’ll get her back.”
“You?” Holt sounded surprised. “We have no tabs.”
Reynolds shook his head and pulled the hair back from the cybernaughtic jack-socket. “Like I said captain, I have some talent in the Scope and I feel I may be doing myself an injustice in that statement.”
A fraction of Holt’s mouth turned up into a smile. Perhaps this man wasn’t all stiff collars and pressed trousers after all. Then Holt chastised himself for being so judgemental for he had already witnessed the man execute the big bearded Ox.
A Peer of the realm Reynolds may be, but there seemed to be an aspect of his life in which he was certainly no gentleman.
“There are scope points on board, Lord Reynolds, though no one’s used them since before I had her. I’ll have one fired up for you,” Holt said, a glimmer of hope creeping into his voice.
“Thank you captain,” Reynolds said with relief, adding, “I will be vulnerable whilst I am under.”
Holt knew what he meant, after recent events it would be a perfect time for Reynolds to have an accident.
“The Scope Room is a secure compartment, and I’ll get Paige to sort out the equipment, she’ll be discreet,” Holt said with a nod.
The Peer’s calm and understanding tone seemed to bring Holt off the boil, and the man sat down with a very long sigh.
“My apologies, Baron, perhaps I was a little harsh then. You offer is indeed a generous one and one I will certainly consider. You must understand, I have worked very hard to keep the Witch going, and the thought of losing her…”
“That is beauty of my offer, captain, for you there would be very little change, other than you will not have a massive debt to worry about and ample money in your pocket. If you can cope with the demands of one of the Empire’s aristocrats, and I shall warn you now that they might seem the most unusual of demands at times, then I can’t see a downside for you.”
“Indeed my lord, but you will give me time to consider?”
“Take all the time you need, captain, the offer remains open even if you turn me down,” Reynolds smiled.
There was a silent pause after which Reynolds spoke once more.
“Well, captain, we go from one sensitive subject to another. I must speak with you about Miss Buxley.”
Holt raised a hand to stop the baron. “You need not worry about that situation, Baron, that is an affair I must deal with.”
“On the contrary,” Reynolds objected. “I made a promise to a man as lay dying in my arms. It is a promise I have every intention of keeping. I have to help her. What she is going through,” he paused letting Holt’s own imagination fill in the blanks.
Slightly irritated by the memory Holt said, “It is a terrible ordeal the Buxley is going through, but it’s not real, I mean, how much harm can they really be doing?”
Reynolds stared at Holt for a moment. Was he detecting denial? It sure sounded like it and that wasn’t good for Holt or for Lilly.
“What Lilly is going through will affect her mind as much as if she was undergoing the ordeal in the Prime,” he said and swathe colour drain from Holt’s face.
“Yes, at first she will be able to convince herself that it is not real, but in the scope it feels real. Her mind will experience the pain and trauma we have seen her undergo as though it had actually happened, and that will not leave her quickly. If she stays there too long, without the grounding of reality, then she’ll never be able to put the events aside and her mind will break,” Reynolds warned.
There was a long silence and Reynolds watched Holt for some kind of reaction. He could see there was some sort of internal debate going on and decided to let it come to a head without pushing for an answer.
Eventually Holt seemed to bolster himself and sat more upright in his chair.
“I am taking us to Haven. It is a large complex under the Atlantic, almost an undersea city. It started off as a small hidden British supply depot back in the twenties, but they abandoned it just before they completed it and it got taken over by other less savoury types who have expanded it massively. It is a veritable den of thieves Lord Reynolds, so I recommend you and your family stay aboard the Witch while we are there.”
“Haven?” Reynolds inquired. “It’s not somewhere I have heard of before.”
“And why should you?” Holt quipped and Reynolds thought better of replying.
“It’s just off the coast of Bermuda,” Holt informed him. “In fact you can get there from the island, through a long tunnel, though it’s heavily guarded by ‘D-Men’.”
“D-Men?”
“Arden Dembolla, a big black hulk of a man from the West Indies. He’s the so called ‘king’ of haven. His followers police the city, in a manner of speaking.”
“I see. Why Haven?” Reynolds was trying to figure out what relevance the place had.
“There is a man there who knows Schimler. I hope to try to reason with him. Also there is a doctor there who has dealt with long term scope-submersion before. Apparently he’s very good at keeping the bodies alive while the mind is elsewhere.”
Reynolds didn’t feel comfortable with all this. “Captain,” he said quietly, “before you go to bat with Schimler’s associate, please allow me to try something. I have a fair talent in the scope, all I need is a good access point and I’ll get her back.”
“You?” Holt sounded surprised. “We have no tabs.”
Reynolds shook his head and pulled the hair back from the cybernaughtic jack-socket. “Like I said captain, I have some talent in the Scope and I feel I may be doing myself an injustice in that statement.”
A fraction of Holt’s mouth turned up into a smile. Perhaps this man wasn’t all stiff collars and pressed trousers after all. Then Holt chastised himself for being so judgemental for he had already witnessed the man execute the big bearded Ox.
A Peer of the realm Reynolds may be, but there seemed to be an aspect of his life in which he was certainly no gentleman.
“There are scope points on board, Lord Reynolds, though no one’s used them since before I had her. I’ll have one fired up for you,” Holt said, a glimmer of hope creeping into his voice.
“Thank you captain,” Reynolds said with relief, adding, “I will be vulnerable whilst I am under.”
Holt knew what he meant, after recent events it would be a perfect time for Reynolds to have an accident.
“The Scope Room is a secure compartment, and I’ll get Paige to sort out the equipment, she’ll be discreet,” Holt said with a nod.
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Re: Waterwitch
Paige Holt took the key from her father and made her way down two decks. Most of the compartments in this section were disused storerooms except for a small chapel, which meant that not many people ever bothered to come here.
Just forward of the chapel was a heavy door that she now unlocked, after checking that there really was no one around.
Inside the room was pitch-black until she fumbled around on the bulkhead and found the switch for the lights.
As phosphorescent Ether filled the lamps that looked like old tilly-lamps, it cast an odd sickly green colour over a room which contained three small cot-like beds arranged as though they were on the lines from the centre to the corners of a triangle.
At the head of each bed was a round porthole-like screen set in brass and a brass keyboard both set into a deck to deckhead frame.
Paige picked a bed and laid the fresh linen sheet and pillow on it, with sharp neat corners, just like Mrs Morris had shown her back in Lord Reynolds’ Knightsbridge residence.
She smiled, amused at herself for being such a conformist, after trying so hard to rebel in her younger years.
Finished, she opened the door a crack and checked in the passageway, making sure no one was there before she stepped out and locked the door behind her.
When she returned an hour later she had with her a wicker basket containing food, drink and a good book, and her employer, Lord Sebastian Reynolds.
They had had to be careful on their way here, as neither of them wanted any of Wade’s supporters seeing what they were up to or where they were going.
Luckily Reynolds had some experience at being stealthy and was able to get them to this little used part of the boat unobserved.
Reynolds removed his jacket and tie and placed them neatly on one of the spare cots, then loosened his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves.
Paige noticed that he was wearing a shoulder holster in which sat a particularly large and heavy looking revolver. He didn’t remove it is he laid down on the cot-bed and made himself comfortable.
He seemed totally at ease with the heavy object sitting under his arm and Paige wondered how often he wore it? Did he wear it when he was at home? There certainly seemed to have been a number of occasions recently where strange people have turned up in the middle of the night, or unusual guests have been staying at the Knightsbridge townhouse. And Lord Reynolds had come home with ruined clothes and numerous unaccountable injuries. Seeing how Reynolds had been over the last few days made her wonder about what he got up to back in England.
Reynolds glanced across at the pretty young girl, “I don’t know how long I’ll be, Paige, so don’t worry about sitting here all the time.”
Paige shook her head, dismissing the notion. “I’ve plenty of food and drink to keep me going my Lord. And besides, the less times I go in and out, the less chance there is of someone seeing me.”
Reynolds smirked, “She has a good head on her, this one,” he thought.
Uncoiling a thin plastic coated wire with an ether-jack on either end, he handed one end to Paige. “Would you mind unscrewing the left hand brass cap just under the screen there and push that in?”
She took it from him, her hand brushing his and both of them froze looking at the point of contact, then as Paige’s face reddened she pushed the jack home and Reynolds did the same in the cybernaughtic ether-socket behind his ear.
“Now,” Reynolds said, “just flick the cover back from the red switch, that’s it, now turn it on.”
Paige’s finger hovered over the power switch and she glanced nervously at Lord Reynolds as she had heard about people’s brains turning to mush when they used contraptions like these and now that her employer was here she didn’t want to be responsible for killing him.
“It’s okay, Paige, nothing will happen until I turn it on here,” Reynolds tapped a well-manicured finger against his temple.
Paige relaxed visibly and flicked the switch downwards.
“Ahhh!” Reynolds yelled, his whole body jerking. He couldn’t hold back the smile and subsequent laugh when he saw Paige’s terrified face.
When she realised what was happening she looked angry and slapped his arm. “You bastard!” she accused and then slapped her hand across her mouth in horror, staring wide-eyed at the Baron.
Reynolds grinned at her. “It’s quite alright, Paige, we aren’t in England right now are we? In fact this is your father’s boat so here he is king, which of course would make you Princess Paige, and so I should be deferent to you, M’Lady!”
Paige stood up, hands on her hips and said, “Do you mock me sir?”
“A little!” Reynolds smirked.
“Well just you remember who it is who’ll be looking over you whilst you slumber, mister!”
Again Reynolds laughed. “I can think of no one else I would rather have watching out for me whilst I am consciously departed. Perhaps I’ll be able to return the favour and watch you sleep one day.”
The words were out before he realised quite what it was he was saying.
Paige’s face had flushed red once more Reynolds was surprised to feel his own cheeks warming too.
“Right, I’ll be off then!” he said awkwardly.
Paige said nothing but watched him closely as he lay back and settled comfortably. It made him feel even more self-conscious than before.
Not wanting to hang around in the awkward silence any longer than he had to, Reynolds closed his eyes and mentally flicked a switch.
Just forward of the chapel was a heavy door that she now unlocked, after checking that there really was no one around.
Inside the room was pitch-black until she fumbled around on the bulkhead and found the switch for the lights.
As phosphorescent Ether filled the lamps that looked like old tilly-lamps, it cast an odd sickly green colour over a room which contained three small cot-like beds arranged as though they were on the lines from the centre to the corners of a triangle.
At the head of each bed was a round porthole-like screen set in brass and a brass keyboard both set into a deck to deckhead frame.
Paige picked a bed and laid the fresh linen sheet and pillow on it, with sharp neat corners, just like Mrs Morris had shown her back in Lord Reynolds’ Knightsbridge residence.
She smiled, amused at herself for being such a conformist, after trying so hard to rebel in her younger years.
Finished, she opened the door a crack and checked in the passageway, making sure no one was there before she stepped out and locked the door behind her.
When she returned an hour later she had with her a wicker basket containing food, drink and a good book, and her employer, Lord Sebastian Reynolds.
They had had to be careful on their way here, as neither of them wanted any of Wade’s supporters seeing what they were up to or where they were going.
Luckily Reynolds had some experience at being stealthy and was able to get them to this little used part of the boat unobserved.
Reynolds removed his jacket and tie and placed them neatly on one of the spare cots, then loosened his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves.
Paige noticed that he was wearing a shoulder holster in which sat a particularly large and heavy looking revolver. He didn’t remove it is he laid down on the cot-bed and made himself comfortable.
He seemed totally at ease with the heavy object sitting under his arm and Paige wondered how often he wore it? Did he wear it when he was at home? There certainly seemed to have been a number of occasions recently where strange people have turned up in the middle of the night, or unusual guests have been staying at the Knightsbridge townhouse. And Lord Reynolds had come home with ruined clothes and numerous unaccountable injuries. Seeing how Reynolds had been over the last few days made her wonder about what he got up to back in England.
Reynolds glanced across at the pretty young girl, “I don’t know how long I’ll be, Paige, so don’t worry about sitting here all the time.”
Paige shook her head, dismissing the notion. “I’ve plenty of food and drink to keep me going my Lord. And besides, the less times I go in and out, the less chance there is of someone seeing me.”
Reynolds smirked, “She has a good head on her, this one,” he thought.
Uncoiling a thin plastic coated wire with an ether-jack on either end, he handed one end to Paige. “Would you mind unscrewing the left hand brass cap just under the screen there and push that in?”
She took it from him, her hand brushing his and both of them froze looking at the point of contact, then as Paige’s face reddened she pushed the jack home and Reynolds did the same in the cybernaughtic ether-socket behind his ear.
“Now,” Reynolds said, “just flick the cover back from the red switch, that’s it, now turn it on.”
Paige’s finger hovered over the power switch and she glanced nervously at Lord Reynolds as she had heard about people’s brains turning to mush when they used contraptions like these and now that her employer was here she didn’t want to be responsible for killing him.
“It’s okay, Paige, nothing will happen until I turn it on here,” Reynolds tapped a well-manicured finger against his temple.
Paige relaxed visibly and flicked the switch downwards.
“Ahhh!” Reynolds yelled, his whole body jerking. He couldn’t hold back the smile and subsequent laugh when he saw Paige’s terrified face.
When she realised what was happening she looked angry and slapped his arm. “You bastard!” she accused and then slapped her hand across her mouth in horror, staring wide-eyed at the Baron.
Reynolds grinned at her. “It’s quite alright, Paige, we aren’t in England right now are we? In fact this is your father’s boat so here he is king, which of course would make you Princess Paige, and so I should be deferent to you, M’Lady!”
Paige stood up, hands on her hips and said, “Do you mock me sir?”
“A little!” Reynolds smirked.
“Well just you remember who it is who’ll be looking over you whilst you slumber, mister!”
Again Reynolds laughed. “I can think of no one else I would rather have watching out for me whilst I am consciously departed. Perhaps I’ll be able to return the favour and watch you sleep one day.”
The words were out before he realised quite what it was he was saying.
Paige’s face had flushed red once more Reynolds was surprised to feel his own cheeks warming too.
“Right, I’ll be off then!” he said awkwardly.
Paige said nothing but watched him closely as he lay back and settled comfortably. It made him feel even more self-conscious than before.
Not wanting to hang around in the awkward silence any longer than he had to, Reynolds closed his eyes and mentally flicked a switch.
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Re: Waterwitch
From blackness, colours appeared and disappeared. Incoherent shapes, amorphous blobs that seemed to coalesce into other non-descript shapes before fading away to nothing. Then the appearances became more frequent until the splotches of colour were coming so fast it appeared as though paints were being mixed on an artist’s palette, until after just the briefest of moments they gained form.
Huge columns of marble with thick rounded plinths and scrolling capitals finished in gold leaf lined the walls of the huge space.
Overhead was a vaulted ceiling, curved beams reaching from the tops of the columns to the central hub like the spokes of a when where an improbably bright chandelier hung.
Three quarters of the room was lined with plush red seats which looked soft and luxurious, whilst the remaining quarter was a raised stage, only half lit at the moment.
Stood upon the stage in stark contrast to the yellows and golds of the backdrop was a figure dressed in black from the tall angular top hat, the sharp shouldered tight fitting frock coat and the black leather riding boots. Even the figure’s hands were gloved in black and only a narrow band of flesh showed above a black scarf that hid the lower part of the man's face. A narrow band of pale flesh and pale glowing eyes like corpse candles that peered out from beneath the peak of the top hat.
Sebastian Reynolds smiled to himself upon seeing the familiar surroundings. In the scope this was the main Opera Hall in the Magdalene’s new domain.
He guessed that he must have arrived here in the early hours of the morning for there not to be any performance or even spectators.
Calling up the local scope zone time he found it to be four o’clock. The time here in New London was set to match Greenwich Mean Time, minus an hour. Reynolds could never quite figure out why it was an hour behind!
Huge columns of marble with thick rounded plinths and scrolling capitals finished in gold leaf lined the walls of the huge space.
Overhead was a vaulted ceiling, curved beams reaching from the tops of the columns to the central hub like the spokes of a when where an improbably bright chandelier hung.
Three quarters of the room was lined with plush red seats which looked soft and luxurious, whilst the remaining quarter was a raised stage, only half lit at the moment.
Stood upon the stage in stark contrast to the yellows and golds of the backdrop was a figure dressed in black from the tall angular top hat, the sharp shouldered tight fitting frock coat and the black leather riding boots. Even the figure’s hands were gloved in black and only a narrow band of flesh showed above a black scarf that hid the lower part of the man's face. A narrow band of pale flesh and pale glowing eyes like corpse candles that peered out from beneath the peak of the top hat.
Sebastian Reynolds smiled to himself upon seeing the familiar surroundings. In the scope this was the main Opera Hall in the Magdalene’s new domain.
He guessed that he must have arrived here in the early hours of the morning for there not to be any performance or even spectators.
Calling up the local scope zone time he found it to be four o’clock. The time here in New London was set to match Greenwich Mean Time, minus an hour. Reynolds could never quite figure out why it was an hour behind!
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Re: Waterwitch
The SS Waterwitch was a large vessel, her central area was mostly machinery, engines, turbines and huge reinforced tanks containing Ether.
By controlling the amount of Ether in the tanks the Witch could be made to dive or rise whilst stationary, without the need to drive her up or down with the hydroplanes, but more than that, increasing the Etheric volume above that required to give the vessel normal buoyancy could lift the submarine clear of the water altogether, turning her into an airship.
Forward of the ship’s power systems were large cargo holds and crew quarter and cabins for guests or other passengers, including lounges and galleys and dining rooms. There was even a Hall used for parties and other functions, including the funerals of dead shipmates.
Aft of the engine room were more cabins, these smaller than the ones up forward and meant for the lower ranking crewmen but there were also mechanical and shipwright workshops, refrigeration plants and many other areas essential to the survival of the vessel.
Many of the quartermaster’s crew bunked here, as did the engine room crew. Over the last year or so the two mess halls in this part of the vessel had become heavily segregated, with the engine room crew (those who had been loyal to Hartfield) in the port side mess, and those who chose Nestor Wade as their lead in the starboard side mess, which was situated slightly further aft.
Within that starboard mess were a dozen men, including Nestor Wade and Jonah Brewer.
“That bastard!” Brewer cursed, meaning Reynolds. It was all Brewer had talked about for the past day.
“What’s he done now?” Jim Muldridge asked as he closed the door, instantly regretting his question.
“Well, I was listening in on the captain and Gecko, like I do for Mr Wade now and then, to see what they was going to do about Buxley, when that fucker sneaks up behind me and attacked me. No warning or anything. And Gecko dint do noffink when a saw, nor the cap’n neiver. Gave me a hard time they did, not that bloody Reynolds. They’re scared of him now they knows he’s a toff. Won’t even stand up for their own against an outsider.”
Muldridge shook his head in mock astonishment. “Shocking behaviour!” he moaned, wondering just how he might have reacted if he’d caught Brewer listening in on of his private conversations.
“Nah!” Wade said letting everyone here know he wasn’t happy with Muldridge’s dismissal of the event. “Getting too bloody big for his britches is that one. We’re not in Blighty now so he can shove his aristocratic roots up his arse. We need to bring him down a peg or too, teach him a proper good lesson.”
“But Holt and Gecko will protect him!” Brewer put in sourly.
“Then we get rid of them first,” Wade stated, looking to each of them to make sure they knew he was serious.
A small stocky man with short dark hair, a huge Cossack style moustache and an ornate tattoo that covered his back and poked above the neckline of the grubby white vest he wore fidgeted in his seat slightly. “You talking about mutiny?” he asked.
“Maybe I am,” Wade declared.
“Christ, Nestor, we could get hung for just talking about it!” the tattooed Bill Guthrey warned.
“Ah bollocks, Bill! How many times have we cursed that useless skipper of ours to hell and talked about how we’d all do better in his place? Besides, no one will hang us for planning a mutiny if no one tells about it.”
There was silence around the room but none of the men disagreed with wade
“So what’s the plan boss?” Brewer asked Wade looking like an excited schoolboy.
“Well there’s a damned sight more of them than there is if us and I don’t go for those odds, so we need to make sure all our boys are up for this. Even then we’ll be outnumbered so we’ll have to hit them hard and fast and in a manner that’ll put paid to any resistance pretty damned smartish.”
“How do we do that, boss?” Brewer was nigh on wetting himself now.
“Shit, Brewer!” Muldridge said exasperated. “Will you shut the fuck up and let the man think?”
Brewer shot Muldridge a filthy look but didn’t offer any sort of retort and sat there quietly with his bottom lip sticking out in a pouting sulk.
“It’s simple,” Bill Guthrey said with a shrug of his shoulders and a twiddle with the end of his enormous moustache.
“What is?” the stocky, black skinned Leon Chambers asked.
Guthrey gave them all a hard stare. “It’ll be no different with this lot than it is in the army.”
“Here we go!” Muldridge interrupted with a roll of his eyes and a tut.
Muldridge was an ex-Royal Navy sailor who’d seemed to miss out on all the major action, whereas Guthrey had been in the grenadiers and seen more than his fair share of fighting. Guthrey’s many war stories somehow managed to get right under the sailor’s skin.
Wade held up a hand to halt any further exchange between the two. “I want to hear what Bill has to say.”
“Well,” Bill began now he had a captive audience. He liked to spin his tales out with the odd embellishment here and there but on seeing the serious looks he was getting from everyone gathered here he decided to cut to the chase.
“There’s been lots of times when a commanding officer has been killed or more often captured early on in a campaign. Either ours or theirs, but mostly theirs. Anyway, it ain’t long before the men give up or call it a day and retreat. Sometimes, more than you’d think actually, the officers themselves order the men to stand down just to save their own arses!”
“Holt won’t do that!” Muldridge had to counter.
“Not unless we’ve got ourselves a bargaining chip,” Wade offered. “If we’ve got his precious little Paige, he’ll back down and tell the others to back off too.”
“We’ll have to make sure none of the crew is in a position to cause us much trouble while we’re securing Holt’s surrender,” Muldridge put in.
Guthrey shrugged yet again, “When we’re docking with Haven.”
Wade nodded. “Nice one, Bill. Most of the crew will be at their stations. We can make our move while they’re busy, they won’t even notice what we’re doing until it’s too late. I’ll already be on the bridge and in a good position for when you lot arrive with Paige in tow.”
Harry Smith rubbed at his bald head and grunted as he placed his tin cup on a table. “You boys better get it sorted before we dock, cos if Dambolla finds out about a mutiny on a boat on his turf, we’ll all find ourselves floatin’ out an airlock. You know how he is – don’t give a damn about a boat’s politics so long as everyone behaves when they’re in Haven. He don’t consider mutiny behaving.”
Once more a silence settled over the gathered men as they contemplated that prospect.
“We’ve got to do this sooner then!” Chambers said flatly.
“No,” Wade countered, “better when we said. We’ll get it over quick.”
“What about Reynolds?” Brewer asked after his long silence.
“What about him?” Smith asked.
“He’s a sneaky, tricky bastard and there’s a vicious streak to him too.”
A ripple of derisive laughter coursed through the hardened seamen.
“We can take care of his Lordship!” Guthrey chuckled.
“That’s what that big yank thought, ‘til Reynolds killed most of his men, then he didn’t think much at all after his Lordship shot him in the head. I mean, he just executed him there and then. He’s dangerous, I’ve seen it, you ain’t!”
“All right Brewer,” Wade said softly like a father patiently trying to calm a worried son. “We don’t need to worry about Reynolds. We’ll hit his brother’s family at the same time, he won’t risk them getting hurt.”
Brewer nodded and smiled, satisfied at Wade’s plan.
Nestor Wade issued orders to his men and they all moved off to sort out their parts of the plan.
“It’ll work boss, won’t it?” Brewer asked as he remained behind.
“Of course it will,” Wade reassured the lank-haired youth. “And once we’ve got rid of Holt and Gecko I’ll be looking forward to having a chat with his lordship!”
“What you going to do to him?”
“Oh, kill him – eventually,” Wade said as though it were a matter of course. “I suppose I’ll have to do his brother and the boy as well. Can’t have anyone running to the British and telling tales on us can we? Then I’ll have to make myself acquainted with the nice young Mrs Reynolds, ‘til I get bored of her then I’ll let the boys have her a bit. Then the little girl? Well, there’s that guy over on the Ivory Coast who buys white kids, you remember him?”
Brewer had a look of shock on his face but it soon broke into a grin. “You’re going to do the Reynolds woman then?” he asked thrusting his hips to emphasise the point.
“Spoils of war that is, my old son! You’ve seen the huge tits on her, how could I let them pass me by. Besides, watching what thy did to Buxley got my balls to aching I gave me some new things to try. Pitty we ain’t going to be keeping hold of young Miss Holt, I know you’ve got a bit of a hard spot for her!”
“We ain’t keeping her?” Brewer was crestfallen.
“Nah! Holt won’t get off the boat if we don’t hand her over, and the rest of the crew will go nuts. They all love her! He wasn’t such a bad skipper to start with, but then he hired some wrongun’s and got into bed with the posh types, all a bit above his station, and they corrupted him. So he’ll live and so will his daughter, if he plays nice.”
Wade meant what he said too.
“I’ve got to hope Holt isn’t so smart!” Brewer huffed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you look after Paige while we’re conducting our business, up to you how you keep her in check! Then you can have the little Reynolds girl until we get to Africa. What is she, twelve? That’s a little young for me, but I know you like ‘em like that!”
Brewer looked elated, his eyes sparkling, and with good reason, Wade thought. Very soon they’d have the Witch, he’d be the new captain, and he’d be up to his nut in posh pussy. Wade guessed similar thoughts would be going through Brewer corrupt little mind too.
“Alright boss! You can count on me,” Jonah said fidgeting slightly and then turning for the door.
“Oh, don’t go just yet Jonah, my lad,” Wade said with a tone that made a chill run down Brewer’s spine. “You bring that clever mouth of yours over here, I got something needs sorting out.”
As he said the words Nestor Wade pulled a throbbing erection from his pants.
By controlling the amount of Ether in the tanks the Witch could be made to dive or rise whilst stationary, without the need to drive her up or down with the hydroplanes, but more than that, increasing the Etheric volume above that required to give the vessel normal buoyancy could lift the submarine clear of the water altogether, turning her into an airship.
Forward of the ship’s power systems were large cargo holds and crew quarter and cabins for guests or other passengers, including lounges and galleys and dining rooms. There was even a Hall used for parties and other functions, including the funerals of dead shipmates.
Aft of the engine room were more cabins, these smaller than the ones up forward and meant for the lower ranking crewmen but there were also mechanical and shipwright workshops, refrigeration plants and many other areas essential to the survival of the vessel.
Many of the quartermaster’s crew bunked here, as did the engine room crew. Over the last year or so the two mess halls in this part of the vessel had become heavily segregated, with the engine room crew (those who had been loyal to Hartfield) in the port side mess, and those who chose Nestor Wade as their lead in the starboard side mess, which was situated slightly further aft.
Within that starboard mess were a dozen men, including Nestor Wade and Jonah Brewer.
“That bastard!” Brewer cursed, meaning Reynolds. It was all Brewer had talked about for the past day.
“What’s he done now?” Jim Muldridge asked as he closed the door, instantly regretting his question.
“Well, I was listening in on the captain and Gecko, like I do for Mr Wade now and then, to see what they was going to do about Buxley, when that fucker sneaks up behind me and attacked me. No warning or anything. And Gecko dint do noffink when a saw, nor the cap’n neiver. Gave me a hard time they did, not that bloody Reynolds. They’re scared of him now they knows he’s a toff. Won’t even stand up for their own against an outsider.”
Muldridge shook his head in mock astonishment. “Shocking behaviour!” he moaned, wondering just how he might have reacted if he’d caught Brewer listening in on of his private conversations.
“Nah!” Wade said letting everyone here know he wasn’t happy with Muldridge’s dismissal of the event. “Getting too bloody big for his britches is that one. We’re not in Blighty now so he can shove his aristocratic roots up his arse. We need to bring him down a peg or too, teach him a proper good lesson.”
“But Holt and Gecko will protect him!” Brewer put in sourly.
“Then we get rid of them first,” Wade stated, looking to each of them to make sure they knew he was serious.
A small stocky man with short dark hair, a huge Cossack style moustache and an ornate tattoo that covered his back and poked above the neckline of the grubby white vest he wore fidgeted in his seat slightly. “You talking about mutiny?” he asked.
“Maybe I am,” Wade declared.
“Christ, Nestor, we could get hung for just talking about it!” the tattooed Bill Guthrey warned.
“Ah bollocks, Bill! How many times have we cursed that useless skipper of ours to hell and talked about how we’d all do better in his place? Besides, no one will hang us for planning a mutiny if no one tells about it.”
There was silence around the room but none of the men disagreed with wade
“So what’s the plan boss?” Brewer asked Wade looking like an excited schoolboy.
“Well there’s a damned sight more of them than there is if us and I don’t go for those odds, so we need to make sure all our boys are up for this. Even then we’ll be outnumbered so we’ll have to hit them hard and fast and in a manner that’ll put paid to any resistance pretty damned smartish.”
“How do we do that, boss?” Brewer was nigh on wetting himself now.
“Shit, Brewer!” Muldridge said exasperated. “Will you shut the fuck up and let the man think?”
Brewer shot Muldridge a filthy look but didn’t offer any sort of retort and sat there quietly with his bottom lip sticking out in a pouting sulk.
“It’s simple,” Bill Guthrey said with a shrug of his shoulders and a twiddle with the end of his enormous moustache.
“What is?” the stocky, black skinned Leon Chambers asked.
Guthrey gave them all a hard stare. “It’ll be no different with this lot than it is in the army.”
“Here we go!” Muldridge interrupted with a roll of his eyes and a tut.
Muldridge was an ex-Royal Navy sailor who’d seemed to miss out on all the major action, whereas Guthrey had been in the grenadiers and seen more than his fair share of fighting. Guthrey’s many war stories somehow managed to get right under the sailor’s skin.
Wade held up a hand to halt any further exchange between the two. “I want to hear what Bill has to say.”
“Well,” Bill began now he had a captive audience. He liked to spin his tales out with the odd embellishment here and there but on seeing the serious looks he was getting from everyone gathered here he decided to cut to the chase.
“There’s been lots of times when a commanding officer has been killed or more often captured early on in a campaign. Either ours or theirs, but mostly theirs. Anyway, it ain’t long before the men give up or call it a day and retreat. Sometimes, more than you’d think actually, the officers themselves order the men to stand down just to save their own arses!”
“Holt won’t do that!” Muldridge had to counter.
“Not unless we’ve got ourselves a bargaining chip,” Wade offered. “If we’ve got his precious little Paige, he’ll back down and tell the others to back off too.”
“We’ll have to make sure none of the crew is in a position to cause us much trouble while we’re securing Holt’s surrender,” Muldridge put in.
Guthrey shrugged yet again, “When we’re docking with Haven.”
Wade nodded. “Nice one, Bill. Most of the crew will be at their stations. We can make our move while they’re busy, they won’t even notice what we’re doing until it’s too late. I’ll already be on the bridge and in a good position for when you lot arrive with Paige in tow.”
Harry Smith rubbed at his bald head and grunted as he placed his tin cup on a table. “You boys better get it sorted before we dock, cos if Dambolla finds out about a mutiny on a boat on his turf, we’ll all find ourselves floatin’ out an airlock. You know how he is – don’t give a damn about a boat’s politics so long as everyone behaves when they’re in Haven. He don’t consider mutiny behaving.”
Once more a silence settled over the gathered men as they contemplated that prospect.
“We’ve got to do this sooner then!” Chambers said flatly.
“No,” Wade countered, “better when we said. We’ll get it over quick.”
“What about Reynolds?” Brewer asked after his long silence.
“What about him?” Smith asked.
“He’s a sneaky, tricky bastard and there’s a vicious streak to him too.”
A ripple of derisive laughter coursed through the hardened seamen.
“We can take care of his Lordship!” Guthrey chuckled.
“That’s what that big yank thought, ‘til Reynolds killed most of his men, then he didn’t think much at all after his Lordship shot him in the head. I mean, he just executed him there and then. He’s dangerous, I’ve seen it, you ain’t!”
“All right Brewer,” Wade said softly like a father patiently trying to calm a worried son. “We don’t need to worry about Reynolds. We’ll hit his brother’s family at the same time, he won’t risk them getting hurt.”
Brewer nodded and smiled, satisfied at Wade’s plan.
Nestor Wade issued orders to his men and they all moved off to sort out their parts of the plan.
“It’ll work boss, won’t it?” Brewer asked as he remained behind.
“Of course it will,” Wade reassured the lank-haired youth. “And once we’ve got rid of Holt and Gecko I’ll be looking forward to having a chat with his lordship!”
“What you going to do to him?”
“Oh, kill him – eventually,” Wade said as though it were a matter of course. “I suppose I’ll have to do his brother and the boy as well. Can’t have anyone running to the British and telling tales on us can we? Then I’ll have to make myself acquainted with the nice young Mrs Reynolds, ‘til I get bored of her then I’ll let the boys have her a bit. Then the little girl? Well, there’s that guy over on the Ivory Coast who buys white kids, you remember him?”
Brewer had a look of shock on his face but it soon broke into a grin. “You’re going to do the Reynolds woman then?” he asked thrusting his hips to emphasise the point.
“Spoils of war that is, my old son! You’ve seen the huge tits on her, how could I let them pass me by. Besides, watching what thy did to Buxley got my balls to aching I gave me some new things to try. Pitty we ain’t going to be keeping hold of young Miss Holt, I know you’ve got a bit of a hard spot for her!”
“We ain’t keeping her?” Brewer was crestfallen.
“Nah! Holt won’t get off the boat if we don’t hand her over, and the rest of the crew will go nuts. They all love her! He wasn’t such a bad skipper to start with, but then he hired some wrongun’s and got into bed with the posh types, all a bit above his station, and they corrupted him. So he’ll live and so will his daughter, if he plays nice.”
Wade meant what he said too.
“I’ve got to hope Holt isn’t so smart!” Brewer huffed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you look after Paige while we’re conducting our business, up to you how you keep her in check! Then you can have the little Reynolds girl until we get to Africa. What is she, twelve? That’s a little young for me, but I know you like ‘em like that!”
Brewer looked elated, his eyes sparkling, and with good reason, Wade thought. Very soon they’d have the Witch, he’d be the new captain, and he’d be up to his nut in posh pussy. Wade guessed similar thoughts would be going through Brewer corrupt little mind too.
“Alright boss! You can count on me,” Jonah said fidgeting slightly and then turning for the door.
“Oh, don’t go just yet Jonah, my lad,” Wade said with a tone that made a chill run down Brewer’s spine. “You bring that clever mouth of yours over here, I got something needs sorting out.”
As he said the words Nestor Wade pulled a throbbing erection from his pants.
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Re: Waterwitch
Inside the scope it always amazed Reynolds how real things seemed.
This strange otherworld to which peoples conscious minds could be send through the use of drugs or through cybernaughtic neural interface was just pure ether, manipulated through magnetic impulses to take on the shapes and forms and other properties that one wished.
But people hadn’t constructed this New London out of purely simplistic shapes, no, it was as intricate as the real thing. In fact it was more so as far as architecture was concerned with great towering structures that bore both gothic features and the more modern looking glass and steel. What people didn’t have to worry about in the scope was gravity. If the gravity imposed on a place was too much for the building to stay standing, then they altered the gravity!
Of course there were certain domains within the scope that chose to have completely bizarre laws of physics, with diametrically opposed gravities and other such oddities that would confuse the casual traveller.
Thankfully New London, as did most of the huge sprawling city-domains, adhered mostly to the normal rules. Someone had even gone to the rouble of studying the movement of trees in the breeze so that they could be simulated here!
The masked figure moved swiftly off the well-lit stage and into the darkness around the sides.
This was his domain and so there was no need for subterfuge, but he applied it anyway.
Outside, the city was dark, corresponding with the time in the Prime Reality, again there was no need for such a thing, but the New London domain’s creators had obviously thought there was. The better to keep things normal, Reynolds mused, but he didn’t mind one bit as this worked to his own advantage.
Like Prime London, many of the streets were lit by lamps only here they were burning an imitation of the volatile ether and the glow of the lamps would have surrounded them whether there was a flame there or not. Reynolds forced himself to put aside the thought so that he might enjoy the cool, dark night.
Reynolds avoided the patches of light and the sparse few souls that were still wandering around the city at this late hour. There were still those who preyed on the unsuspecting in the scope as they did in the dark streets if Prime London.
That said, the scope was a marvellous place in Reynolds’ mind. A place where class was less of an issue or at least less of an obvious one as here, an avatar of your psyche represented your physical form. For many casual users, especially the tab-jammers, this avatar reflected ones self-image, which meant that people tended to look like themselves, albeit more stylised.
But a market trader who saw himself as just a plain, honest and hard-working man would probably have little difference in his avatar to what he saw in the mirror when he was shaving.
A man who was full of his own self-importance would have a more regal or flamboyantly stylised avatar, whereas someone with low self-esteem would likely have an avatar that blatantly emphasised whatever part of them they saw as lowly.
Reynolds liked to try and guess how close to their true selves an avatar really was. Of course, for those who came here often and had the skill or those who connected with the scope through a cybernaughtic link could choose their avatar’s appearance, as Reynolds himself had.
There were scopers who chose hugely outlandish avatars and there were those who chose more subtle forms.
It didn’t take Reynolds long to find the not-so-discreet entrance to Xenotopia. The doors appeared to be open and a large figure in a golden breastplate emblazoned with a huge X was standing guard. Alongside him was a pretty woman in tight golden shorts and a t-shirt.
As Reynolds stepped out of the darkness she beamed a radiant smile and came straight over to him.
“Good morning, sir,” she said a little too robotically. Have you been to Xenotopia before?”
“No,” Reynolds lied.
“Well, sir, we are offering one month’s free membership today. You pay for the first eleven months and you get the twelfth for nothing. Could I interest you in signing up?”
Reynolds shook his head slowly in a distracted manner. He was looking beyond the girl, beyond the hulking guard and into the very fabric of the etheric representation of the club.
“Oh!” the girl chirped in surprise as when the dark figure’s eyes glowed crimson and then faded back to the spooky pale lights.
Reynolds turned and strode away without a further word. He had spotted a weak point there the etheric gateway to the clubs own domain joined that of the New London street and he intended to exploit it.
He concentrated for a brief moment and a shimmering rectangle appeared before him. It was about the size of a door and Reynolds stepped into it only to emerge mere seconds later in the small space between Xenotopia and the adjacent domain gateway. Over his left shoulder he could see the back of the hulking guard.
Again the red eyes appeared and this time the code that had formed the connection between this domain and Xenotopia’s was revealed overlaying the etheric fabric.
Reynolds reached out and grabbed a line of this code gently easing the symbols apart so that a gap formed.
He stepped forward insinuating himself between the characters. The symbols of code flowed around the structure like some strange gravity defying stream.
It didn’t take long for Reynolds to find himself beyond the New London domain, the stream leading him down an empty corridor in the back of the club. It was there that he stepped back out of the code.
This strange otherworld to which peoples conscious minds could be send through the use of drugs or through cybernaughtic neural interface was just pure ether, manipulated through magnetic impulses to take on the shapes and forms and other properties that one wished.
But people hadn’t constructed this New London out of purely simplistic shapes, no, it was as intricate as the real thing. In fact it was more so as far as architecture was concerned with great towering structures that bore both gothic features and the more modern looking glass and steel. What people didn’t have to worry about in the scope was gravity. If the gravity imposed on a place was too much for the building to stay standing, then they altered the gravity!
Of course there were certain domains within the scope that chose to have completely bizarre laws of physics, with diametrically opposed gravities and other such oddities that would confuse the casual traveller.
Thankfully New London, as did most of the huge sprawling city-domains, adhered mostly to the normal rules. Someone had even gone to the rouble of studying the movement of trees in the breeze so that they could be simulated here!
The masked figure moved swiftly off the well-lit stage and into the darkness around the sides.
This was his domain and so there was no need for subterfuge, but he applied it anyway.
Outside, the city was dark, corresponding with the time in the Prime Reality, again there was no need for such a thing, but the New London domain’s creators had obviously thought there was. The better to keep things normal, Reynolds mused, but he didn’t mind one bit as this worked to his own advantage.
Like Prime London, many of the streets were lit by lamps only here they were burning an imitation of the volatile ether and the glow of the lamps would have surrounded them whether there was a flame there or not. Reynolds forced himself to put aside the thought so that he might enjoy the cool, dark night.
Reynolds avoided the patches of light and the sparse few souls that were still wandering around the city at this late hour. There were still those who preyed on the unsuspecting in the scope as they did in the dark streets if Prime London.
That said, the scope was a marvellous place in Reynolds’ mind. A place where class was less of an issue or at least less of an obvious one as here, an avatar of your psyche represented your physical form. For many casual users, especially the tab-jammers, this avatar reflected ones self-image, which meant that people tended to look like themselves, albeit more stylised.
But a market trader who saw himself as just a plain, honest and hard-working man would probably have little difference in his avatar to what he saw in the mirror when he was shaving.
A man who was full of his own self-importance would have a more regal or flamboyantly stylised avatar, whereas someone with low self-esteem would likely have an avatar that blatantly emphasised whatever part of them they saw as lowly.
Reynolds liked to try and guess how close to their true selves an avatar really was. Of course, for those who came here often and had the skill or those who connected with the scope through a cybernaughtic link could choose their avatar’s appearance, as Reynolds himself had.
There were scopers who chose hugely outlandish avatars and there were those who chose more subtle forms.
It didn’t take Reynolds long to find the not-so-discreet entrance to Xenotopia. The doors appeared to be open and a large figure in a golden breastplate emblazoned with a huge X was standing guard. Alongside him was a pretty woman in tight golden shorts and a t-shirt.
As Reynolds stepped out of the darkness she beamed a radiant smile and came straight over to him.
“Good morning, sir,” she said a little too robotically. Have you been to Xenotopia before?”
“No,” Reynolds lied.
“Well, sir, we are offering one month’s free membership today. You pay for the first eleven months and you get the twelfth for nothing. Could I interest you in signing up?”
Reynolds shook his head slowly in a distracted manner. He was looking beyond the girl, beyond the hulking guard and into the very fabric of the etheric representation of the club.
“Oh!” the girl chirped in surprise as when the dark figure’s eyes glowed crimson and then faded back to the spooky pale lights.
Reynolds turned and strode away without a further word. He had spotted a weak point there the etheric gateway to the clubs own domain joined that of the New London street and he intended to exploit it.
He concentrated for a brief moment and a shimmering rectangle appeared before him. It was about the size of a door and Reynolds stepped into it only to emerge mere seconds later in the small space between Xenotopia and the adjacent domain gateway. Over his left shoulder he could see the back of the hulking guard.
Again the red eyes appeared and this time the code that had formed the connection between this domain and Xenotopia’s was revealed overlaying the etheric fabric.
Reynolds reached out and grabbed a line of this code gently easing the symbols apart so that a gap formed.
He stepped forward insinuating himself between the characters. The symbols of code flowed around the structure like some strange gravity defying stream.
It didn’t take long for Reynolds to find himself beyond the New London domain, the stream leading him down an empty corridor in the back of the club. It was there that he stepped back out of the code.
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Re: Waterwitch
Xenotopia was a huge venue. Even at this hour of the day it was busy, as people from around the world tabbed or jacked into the place.
As Reynolds stood in the quiet passageway he could hear an undulating, almost haunting piece of music coming from the main concert hall. Although it ad classical nuances the sound was definitely what the scope fringes were terming ‘electro-beat’.
The Baron in Reynolds liked the old classics, of course, but there was the Jimmy Ambrose side of him that liked the underground sounds of the Scope music industry.
What they had called Metal was one such format that his Ambrose side liked to listen to, but standing there with this artists tunes washing over him, it appealed to both sides of his character. The classical style and the electro-sound, such a combination would irk the establishment, which was what Reynolds found secretly added to its appeal.
“Strange,” he muttered to himself, “thsat I should want to rebel against the establishment on the one hand, and forcibly support it on the other!”
As Reynolds moved along the passageway and out into the hall he saw a man on the stage with stacks of piano-like keyboards in front of him.
This one man was playing enough music at once to make it sound as though there was a whole orchestra up there.
Many young women wandered about the place with drinks and collecting empty glasses. They wore brief golden shorts and tight fitting black tops with a large golden X emblazoned on the fronts.
“My God!” Reynolds mused. “Imagine if women were allowed to walk around the streets dressed in that manner! There’d be accidents and men wouldn’t get an ounce of work done!”
Keeping to the darker parts of the club he made his way towards one of the women.
“Excuse me, miss,” said he, making the young woman jump. “Who is that playing on the stage?”
She looked at him, this dark hidden figure that far from feeling sinister, just seemed plain ok to her. “No idea, honey,” the brunette woman answered. “He’s French,” she added as though it was some kind of an explanation.
“Thank you,” Reynolds said.
“Do you like the music?” the woman asked.
“It’s not bad,” the baron responded. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Maybe, but I’ve heard better!” she confided with a little giggle and found herself wondering why she was sharing this conversation with a customer and a complete stranger to boot!
The masked man smiled, although the woman would not have seen it. “You had Etherica her a few days ago, I hear?”
“Yeah, now that’s more like it! They had a whole orchestra with them and the two styles together sounded incredible! I hope that group makes it big.”
Reynolds refrained from saying that it was unlikely as their vocalist was shot through the throat and died, although the memory of the event stabbed into him.
“I appreciate it would have been busy but is there any chance you could have seen this woman here that night?” Reynolds asked as he drew a square in the air with his fingers and a grainy sepia picture of Lilly appeared inside it.
The woman looked at the picture for a moment and Reynolds watched her reaction for any signs. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious.
“No, sorry. It was packed in here,” she said with truthful apology in her voice.
Reynolds thanked the woman and moved on through the crowd.
He asked several more people about Lilly and eventually ended up at the bar. When he asked the barman the man stared at Reynolds for several long moments before he spoke. “Nah, not seen her mate.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as you’ll ever find me,” the barman said turning his back on Reynolds.
The baron detected a fair degree of hostility now and wondered why, as all the others he had spoken to had been so approachable.
“I’m sorry, but would you mind having another look, as it is important that I find her.”
The barman span around and leaned across the bar grabbing Reynolds by the lapel. “I said, I haven’t seen her and that should be enough for you. We get busy here most nights and I can’t remember everyone that comes here, especially on a night with a metal band.”
Reynolds cocked his head inquiringly. “I hadn’t mentioned her being her on a metal night yet!”
The barman’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the masked figure.
“Is there a problem here?” a voice said alongside Reynolds.
Instantly the barman released Reynolds. “No,” he said, “just a mouthy customer is all.”
Reynolds turned to see two sizeable behemoths, both glaring menacingly at him. “You keep your tongue whilst you’re in here, pal, or you’re out!” one of them growled.
“Actually gentlemen, you may be able to help, do either of you recognise this woman?”
Both figures exchanged glances. “Yeah, I think I do,” one said.
“Yeah, me too,” the other nodded.
Suspiciously Reynolds eyed the men but quickly turned on a naïve air. “Oh good! You wouldn’t happen to know if she left with anyone would you?”
One of the huge men shook his head while the other said, “No, but she did go to a private room.”
“You lying bastard!” Reynolds thought silently but instead gave a rather optimistic sounding “Really? Which one?”
Both men appeared almost exactly the same Reynolds now noticed, except for one had slightly longer hair. Were these men really twins or had they merely altered their avatars to appear that way?
The one with the shorter hair jerked his head as an indication for Reynolds to follow.
Still highly suspicious, Reynolds did as they bade him.
The two men led him to a door. Reynolds was prepared for a fight and was on the verge of summoning forth his weapon, just in case.
Inside the room was dark, but a dull light flickered on as they entered. Even so, it didn’t do a very good job of illuminating the room, leaving the walls in shadow.
Suddenly there were things moving, humanoid shapes formed of shadow themselves, or so they appeared. They gathered around the three men.
“He’s been asking about the woman Schimler was interested in,” said one of the big bouncers.
Reynolds glanced from the men to the shadows. He’d seen them before, very recently, on an ether image of a pretty young woman getting brutally abused.
As Reynolds stood in the quiet passageway he could hear an undulating, almost haunting piece of music coming from the main concert hall. Although it ad classical nuances the sound was definitely what the scope fringes were terming ‘electro-beat’.
The Baron in Reynolds liked the old classics, of course, but there was the Jimmy Ambrose side of him that liked the underground sounds of the Scope music industry.
What they had called Metal was one such format that his Ambrose side liked to listen to, but standing there with this artists tunes washing over him, it appealed to both sides of his character. The classical style and the electro-sound, such a combination would irk the establishment, which was what Reynolds found secretly added to its appeal.
“Strange,” he muttered to himself, “thsat I should want to rebel against the establishment on the one hand, and forcibly support it on the other!”
As Reynolds moved along the passageway and out into the hall he saw a man on the stage with stacks of piano-like keyboards in front of him.
This one man was playing enough music at once to make it sound as though there was a whole orchestra up there.
Many young women wandered about the place with drinks and collecting empty glasses. They wore brief golden shorts and tight fitting black tops with a large golden X emblazoned on the fronts.
“My God!” Reynolds mused. “Imagine if women were allowed to walk around the streets dressed in that manner! There’d be accidents and men wouldn’t get an ounce of work done!”
Keeping to the darker parts of the club he made his way towards one of the women.
“Excuse me, miss,” said he, making the young woman jump. “Who is that playing on the stage?”
She looked at him, this dark hidden figure that far from feeling sinister, just seemed plain ok to her. “No idea, honey,” the brunette woman answered. “He’s French,” she added as though it was some kind of an explanation.
“Thank you,” Reynolds said.
“Do you like the music?” the woman asked.
“It’s not bad,” the baron responded. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Maybe, but I’ve heard better!” she confided with a little giggle and found herself wondering why she was sharing this conversation with a customer and a complete stranger to boot!
The masked man smiled, although the woman would not have seen it. “You had Etherica her a few days ago, I hear?”
“Yeah, now that’s more like it! They had a whole orchestra with them and the two styles together sounded incredible! I hope that group makes it big.”
Reynolds refrained from saying that it was unlikely as their vocalist was shot through the throat and died, although the memory of the event stabbed into him.
“I appreciate it would have been busy but is there any chance you could have seen this woman here that night?” Reynolds asked as he drew a square in the air with his fingers and a grainy sepia picture of Lilly appeared inside it.
The woman looked at the picture for a moment and Reynolds watched her reaction for any signs. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious.
“No, sorry. It was packed in here,” she said with truthful apology in her voice.
Reynolds thanked the woman and moved on through the crowd.
He asked several more people about Lilly and eventually ended up at the bar. When he asked the barman the man stared at Reynolds for several long moments before he spoke. “Nah, not seen her mate.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as you’ll ever find me,” the barman said turning his back on Reynolds.
The baron detected a fair degree of hostility now and wondered why, as all the others he had spoken to had been so approachable.
“I’m sorry, but would you mind having another look, as it is important that I find her.”
The barman span around and leaned across the bar grabbing Reynolds by the lapel. “I said, I haven’t seen her and that should be enough for you. We get busy here most nights and I can’t remember everyone that comes here, especially on a night with a metal band.”
Reynolds cocked his head inquiringly. “I hadn’t mentioned her being her on a metal night yet!”
The barman’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the masked figure.
“Is there a problem here?” a voice said alongside Reynolds.
Instantly the barman released Reynolds. “No,” he said, “just a mouthy customer is all.”
Reynolds turned to see two sizeable behemoths, both glaring menacingly at him. “You keep your tongue whilst you’re in here, pal, or you’re out!” one of them growled.
“Actually gentlemen, you may be able to help, do either of you recognise this woman?”
Both figures exchanged glances. “Yeah, I think I do,” one said.
“Yeah, me too,” the other nodded.
Suspiciously Reynolds eyed the men but quickly turned on a naïve air. “Oh good! You wouldn’t happen to know if she left with anyone would you?”
One of the huge men shook his head while the other said, “No, but she did go to a private room.”
“You lying bastard!” Reynolds thought silently but instead gave a rather optimistic sounding “Really? Which one?”
Both men appeared almost exactly the same Reynolds now noticed, except for one had slightly longer hair. Were these men really twins or had they merely altered their avatars to appear that way?
The one with the shorter hair jerked his head as an indication for Reynolds to follow.
Still highly suspicious, Reynolds did as they bade him.
The two men led him to a door. Reynolds was prepared for a fight and was on the verge of summoning forth his weapon, just in case.
Inside the room was dark, but a dull light flickered on as they entered. Even so, it didn’t do a very good job of illuminating the room, leaving the walls in shadow.
Suddenly there were things moving, humanoid shapes formed of shadow themselves, or so they appeared. They gathered around the three men.
“He’s been asking about the woman Schimler was interested in,” said one of the big bouncers.
Reynolds glanced from the men to the shadows. He’d seen them before, very recently, on an ether image of a pretty young woman getting brutally abused.
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Keeper
- Magi
- Posts: 591
- Joined: Wed Mar 24, 2010 7:41 am
Re: Waterwitch
Silently the shadows surrounded Reynolds and the two big men backed away, exiting back into the club.
Reynolds was glad that these things were just shadowy figures, he thought that they would actually seem more menacing if they had discernible features.
Strong hands grabbed him and although he struggled against them he put up more a show of resistance than any actual attempt to fight them off.
One of the figures produced a hypodermic syringe and approached Reynolds menacingly while the others held him still.
Reynolds’ gleaming red eyes scanned the object as it got near and he was able to see the code. Essentially it was a stimulant that would activate certain glands within his own brain to produce a variety of chemicals which would have the same effect on the mind as a scope-tab.
So this was how Schimler was keeping Lilly in the scope!
Knowing the formula of course meant that Reynolds was very quickly able to create a counter to in in his own avatar.
It was as the needle touched his arm that Reynolds noticed another part of the concoction.
Reynolds reacted now, ripping himself clear of the group. Immediately a huge gun appeared in his hand and he fired the weapon. One of the shadow-men disintegrated in a shower of reddish sparks.
Reacting now to Reynolds’ sudden hostility the shadows surged in at him, one managing to land a hefty punch as the masked avatar darted this way and that trying to avoid them. The blow sent his sprawling and as he arose, firing the huge pistol at another shadow at point blank range, yet another form managed to land a kick into his side.
As the reddish sparks faded away Reynolds scrambled to get to his feet but for some reason he felt sluggish.
He glanced down at his feet wondering if he was stood in some sort of gloop but instead saw only the hypodermic protruding from his leg.
“Damn” he cursed aloud before essentially losing consciousness.
Reynolds was glad that these things were just shadowy figures, he thought that they would actually seem more menacing if they had discernible features.
Strong hands grabbed him and although he struggled against them he put up more a show of resistance than any actual attempt to fight them off.
One of the figures produced a hypodermic syringe and approached Reynolds menacingly while the others held him still.
Reynolds’ gleaming red eyes scanned the object as it got near and he was able to see the code. Essentially it was a stimulant that would activate certain glands within his own brain to produce a variety of chemicals which would have the same effect on the mind as a scope-tab.
So this was how Schimler was keeping Lilly in the scope!
Knowing the formula of course meant that Reynolds was very quickly able to create a counter to in in his own avatar.
It was as the needle touched his arm that Reynolds noticed another part of the concoction.
Reynolds reacted now, ripping himself clear of the group. Immediately a huge gun appeared in his hand and he fired the weapon. One of the shadow-men disintegrated in a shower of reddish sparks.
Reacting now to Reynolds’ sudden hostility the shadows surged in at him, one managing to land a hefty punch as the masked avatar darted this way and that trying to avoid them. The blow sent his sprawling and as he arose, firing the huge pistol at another shadow at point blank range, yet another form managed to land a kick into his side.
As the reddish sparks faded away Reynolds scrambled to get to his feet but for some reason he felt sluggish.
He glanced down at his feet wondering if he was stood in some sort of gloop but instead saw only the hypodermic protruding from his leg.
“Damn” he cursed aloud before essentially losing consciousness.
-
Keeper
- Magi
- Posts: 591
- Joined: Wed Mar 24, 2010 7:41 am
Re: Waterwitch
“Where the fuck is she?” Muldridge asked the room.
With him in the small cabin were Smith, Guthrey, Brewer, Chambers, McConley an Irishman and of course Nestor Wade.
“Keep your voice down, man,” Chambers warned.
“Well!” Muldgridge said as if that were justification. “The whole plan only works if we got her.”
“No it don’t!” Wade snapped. “We’ve still got Reynolds’ family, but the bitch has got to be here somewhere. We’re four hundred feet below the surface, she can’t have just got off. What about the Bastard Baron?”
No one spoke.
“You sayin’ we don’t know where he is either?” Wade was angry.
“Perhaps he’s shaggin’ Paige somewhere!” Guthrey laughed.
“No he isn’t!” Brewer snapped, his voice desperate as he sat up in his chair.
It was an open wound and Guthrey couldn’t help but poke at it. “Does seem a bit strange though Brewer, don’t it? Them two’s disappearing off somewhere. I s’pose they could just be having a nice long chat someplace quiet, ‘cos that’s what I’d do all alone with a beautiful girl!” Guthrey leered at Brewer and the young man folded his arms and huffed.
“All right!” said Wade bringing the conversation back on track. “We’ve got four hours by my reckoning. We search the boat and find Paige,” he looked at Brewer, “and maybe we find Reynolds on top of her! But be discreet. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious and getting their guard up. This really does only work if we catch them with their pants down!”
“Anyone who sees her just has to let Chambers know and we’ll get the grab party ready,” Muldridge added.
“Whatever happens we go ahead with the plan just using the Reynolds family instead,” Wade ordered. “I don’t reckon on Holt letting anything happen to ‘em, and it’ll keep his lordship at bay too, wherever the fuck he is! From now on, Paige is just a bonus!”
The men, with the exception of Brewer who seemed to be sulking again, all nodded their heads in agreement.
Wade smirked as he dismissed them all and noticed that Jonah Brewer was the first to the door!
With him in the small cabin were Smith, Guthrey, Brewer, Chambers, McConley an Irishman and of course Nestor Wade.
“Keep your voice down, man,” Chambers warned.
“Well!” Muldgridge said as if that were justification. “The whole plan only works if we got her.”
“No it don’t!” Wade snapped. “We’ve still got Reynolds’ family, but the bitch has got to be here somewhere. We’re four hundred feet below the surface, she can’t have just got off. What about the Bastard Baron?”
No one spoke.
“You sayin’ we don’t know where he is either?” Wade was angry.
“Perhaps he’s shaggin’ Paige somewhere!” Guthrey laughed.
“No he isn’t!” Brewer snapped, his voice desperate as he sat up in his chair.
It was an open wound and Guthrey couldn’t help but poke at it. “Does seem a bit strange though Brewer, don’t it? Them two’s disappearing off somewhere. I s’pose they could just be having a nice long chat someplace quiet, ‘cos that’s what I’d do all alone with a beautiful girl!” Guthrey leered at Brewer and the young man folded his arms and huffed.
“All right!” said Wade bringing the conversation back on track. “We’ve got four hours by my reckoning. We search the boat and find Paige,” he looked at Brewer, “and maybe we find Reynolds on top of her! But be discreet. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious and getting their guard up. This really does only work if we catch them with their pants down!”
“Anyone who sees her just has to let Chambers know and we’ll get the grab party ready,” Muldridge added.
“Whatever happens we go ahead with the plan just using the Reynolds family instead,” Wade ordered. “I don’t reckon on Holt letting anything happen to ‘em, and it’ll keep his lordship at bay too, wherever the fuck he is! From now on, Paige is just a bonus!”
The men, with the exception of Brewer who seemed to be sulking again, all nodded their heads in agreement.
Wade smirked as he dismissed them all and noticed that Jonah Brewer was the first to the door!