Colts, Crinolines, and Conspiracies

1 June, year uncertain

Time passes with a newfound monotony of my daily life. The struggle to maintain a semblance of sanity is beginning to wear on me, since I have my self-enforced routine as the only anchor to hold onto as time passes in my new ‘home’. I have found that as time has passed that my opinion of my flatmate have begun to change and perhaps even soften somewhat from when she was first assigned to me. She has become a bit more conversational to me, and arguably she is the most patient and agreeable companion I have ever lived with. 

The two primary struggles I continue to deal with daily are both entirely personal. I have not had a strong drink or a smoke since my arrival, and I have found through reading on the subject that it was determined at some point between my then and my now that tobacco has an addictive quality. This would explain the edginess that I had been feeling and my…temperamental outbursts. Talia duly informed me that she could not get me any tobacco because it was a restricted item here in ‘transitional housing’, but that she could get me something to, as she said, ‘take the edge off’. She left, and returned a bit later with a brightly colored box that contained assorted colored lozenges. I took one, and it was a pleasant cherry flavor, and to my surprise it was quite soothing. She explained it contained a set amount of nicotine and that as time passed I would be able to get more with a lower amount until I no longer needed them. I nodded, and for the time being I was happy to no longer have that feeling from before.

The second issue was of an even more personal nature. There was a point in my isolation that I missed physical human contact of any sort. I might argue that it was brought on by the previous issue, but it was weighing on me to the point of distraction. Finally, at some point before lunch, I found myself glancing at my companion more than I usually did.

“Talia, how do you feel?” I said, without taking the connotations of the statement in mind.  She cocked her head slightly to the left, which was a physical trait she displayed whenever she was seeking to come up with an answer to a question of mine that was not simply a Yes or No.

“I am well. While my personality matrix has been designed to accommodate most variances of human emotion, I do not currently experience emotional changes in the same way a biologic does, if that is what you mean Ms. Dagger” She looked at me and I must say that despite her artificial eyes she did appear to be mimicking the proper expression of concern. I audibly sighed and fought the urge to press my face into my palm momentarily. 

“Come over here for a moment.”

She stepped over to where I was seated, and I took her forearm in my hand, gripping it gently as my fingers wrapped around just below her elbow. To my surprise it was soft, and slightly cool to the touch. Somehow I had expected it to be hard, yet it was pliant under my hand much like a muscled limb would feel. I looked at her face again and I could almost, almost see a slight softening of her usual expression.

“Talia, your skin is cold. Is that normal for you? I mean I rather expected it to be since you are…” My voice trailed off a bit as I thought about what to say next.

“Not ‘real’? It is a normal thought for a biologic that has not been accustomed to dealing with synthetics. To answer your question, I am able to have a more human skin temperature if that is something you desire.” She looked at me again and now I could see another very slight shift in her expression, almost as if this was making her happy. “My series of production have the ability to adjust our external temperature to match the ambient temperature of our environment, or to match what is considered to be human normal.”

I nodded, and without saying or thinking much more guided her behind me. I put both her arms over my shoulders and tucked them around my neck as her breasts compressed against my back. She felt warm against me, and I closed my eyes and relaxed into her arms.

“Had you requested it, I am aware of both what a hug is and how to give one Ms. Dagger.”

I sighed audibly and let my head rock forward. “You certainly know how to take all the magic out of the moment Talia.” I leaned my head onto her arm, and said quietly “Jed. You can call me Jed.”

10 May, year unknown

Since I have found myself with nothing else to do, I have opted to catch up on the circumstances that have found me here in this place. I was focused to the point of of ignoring many other things in my life due to the matters at hand in New Victoria, namely taking what measure of revenge that I could for the killing of Miss Frost and the plot to take over the city government by her brother, with the assistance of the Governor and the complicity of his minions. There at our last day in town I found myself on the roof of the Governor’s Palace, my Henry rifle in hand, awaiting the explosion of our carefully placed surprise in the dining room of the Dysart Hotel.

Percival and his men arrived and went inside, and a quick peek through the window ensured that all of them had taken seats around the table to enjoy their celebratory meal before heading to the city offices. Vivianne and the ladies on the ground had completed their task of setting the timer as I watched them retreat back down the street. A few moments later and the first explosion was followed by a huge plume of fire, no doubt aided by the severed gas line in the basement I had arranged before climbing to the roof. What came next was more of a shock to me, when the entirety of the town was enveloped in a swirl of what I assumed to be aetherial energy and a white flash. Reflexively I threw myself flat on the roof, my body being enveloped in what I can only describe as an intense electrical shock.

I opened my eyes and found that I was no longer on the roof, and a quick check of my extremities showed that I was not injured. What I saw when I looked around was more of a shock. I was on a platform surrounded by buildings that were made of some sort of burnished metal. The ladies were there as well, all looking as bewildered as I was. Several individuals in what appeared to be a uniform approached us and led us into one of the buildings. Once inside we were separated and taken into a small room that had very spare furnishings consisting of 4 chairs and a table. The door closed behind me, and my guide gestured to one of the chairs. I took a seat and she sat across from me.

She said she was sure I was confused and had questions as to what had just happened, but that all my questions would be answered after a few matters were attended to. A second officer walked in carrying a large box and a neatly folded bundle of clothing. At that point I was asked to place everything on my person into the box. I warily complied, placing my rifle and my sidearm into the box, then turning out my pockets and placing the contents into the box as well. A recessed door in the back of the room opened and revealed what I assumed was a bathroom. I was told to take the clothing inside and change once I had taken a shower. Despite my reservations at this point, I took the bundle and walked into the bathroom. I undressed, and stepped into the bath. I felt a degree of unease and had the feeling that I was being watched as I turned on the water. Admittedly I did feel a bit better once I had bathed and dried off. I found that I had been given a set of either the most effeminate male undergarments or the most manly female undergarments I had seen. I then slipped into the dark blue coveralls I had been given and pulled on the matching boots. I then gathered up my clothing and walked back into the main room. I folded my dress and the rest of what I had been wearing and placed them in the box along with my other effects. The lid was closed on what I had brought in with me and I was ushered out and taken to another room down the hall.

My guide walked me down a long hallway deeper in the interior of the building and paused at a translucent door with a stylized caduceus on it. I was escorted inside and the door closed behind me. The room had several beds and the walls were lined with various sorts of what appeared to be technical equipment and glowing panels that displayed various sorts of information. There were two men wearing white jackets stand beside what appeared to be an upright glass booth. The shorter of the two men started speaking to the other man, annoyingly speaking about me in the third person. 

“So now we have our next subject. We will have to scan her thoroughly as well, since we have no idea what her physical state is currently.”
The other man nodded, looked at me and gestured towards the cabinet. I decided that compliance at this stage would not be unwarranted, I walked up and stepped into the device. The glass walls began to glow and I noticed a large panel on the wall that began to display various images of what I assumed were the internal parts of my body. The shorter man began to recite a litany of what I assumed was my overall physical condition.

“Subject is a 36 year old Caucasian female, 176 centimeters tall, 76 kilograms in weight. Body shows indications of involvement in combatives. There are multiple healed wounds from both edged weapons and kinetic projectiles. Subject has environmental damage corresponding to timezone of origin, a degree of alveolar scarring in the lungs from smoke ingestion, and signs of intestinal parasites in the upper colon. Finally subject has three ovarian cysts and a stage one mass in the left breast. The medical conditions will be remediated prior to transfer to Stage II housing.”

I stood there in the cabinet trying to fully take in everything the man had said, since he continued to speak at me about my conditions without actually speaking to me. He unceremoniously took a seat at a desk which was festooned with many colored buttons and had an additional large glowing panel above it.

The tall quiet man walked to where I was still standing and offered me a hand. I took it and he guided me to an elevated bed in the back corner of the room. He gestured to the bed, so I climbed up on it and laid down. He applied a flexible strip of some rubber-like material to my forehead and pulled a translucent shell over the bed. He shot me a slight smile and turned to walk away. Before much longer I fell into a deep dreamless sleep that I was unable to stave off.

At some point I woke up. I fell back into old habits and decided to take a quick look around before sitting up, cracking one eye open at a time and looking around as much as I could while keeping still. I was lying on a bed in a small suite that reminded me of a ship’s stateroom. It was the same smooth finish as the other rooms, well lit from panels in the ceiling, and appeared to have a small kitchen and sitting area as well as the bed I was on. I also noticed that I was no longer dressed under the light sheet that covered me. I carefully ran my hands over my torso and found I had several small adhesive plasters stuck to my skin, two down towards my hips, one above my navel and one nearly at my sternum, two just below my ribs and on the under-curve of each breast. Before I could think about this much more, I was greeted by a voice that came from just behind me in the one spot I was unable to see while remaining still.

“Good afternoon Ms. Dagger. Don’t be alarmed. I am hoping you rested well after your arrival from Medical…”

I rolled over and rested my chin on the back of my hands. The speaker stood just behind me, and I took that moment to look at who was in the room with me. It was a slender female wearing a close fitting sleeveless dress, and I made the immediate assumption she was an automata. While her features were attractive and her proportions perfect, it was obvious to me she was not flesh and bone. Before I could say anything, she gave me a slight smile and folded her hands in front of her waist.

“I am the administrative unit assigned to you. I will assist you in your transition to your new surroundings, answer any questions you may have and accompany you once you are allowed the freedom of the city.”

I hung onto those words and considered what the automata had said. As I had thought before, I was no longer in New Victoria, and no longer in the world I had been before. I felt myself slipping out a grin from one corner of my mouth, because I suppose the average person finding themselves in a totally different time and place from where they had been would be experiencing a large degree of, let’s say disquiet. For me, having dealt with the strange preternatural things I’d seen before, this was at least seemingly comfortable. 

“So what do I call you? Do you have a name?’ I asked.

She inclined her head to the side ever so slightly, and said “My programming allows this unit to respond to a name of the assignee’s choice.” 
I thought for a moment, and finally spoke. “I am going to call you Talia.”

She nodded, and said “My name is now Talia. How may I be of service Ms. Dagger?”

Casefile: 08-KE-04021500

Location: Krakenwell & Co, Babbage Square

Synopsis: Complainant Mr. Benjamin Briggs states that sometime during the period between Wednesday and Friday Instant unidentified subjects removed 11 barrels of small beer from the premises of Krakenwell & Co.
The investigation is ongoing.

Case Status: Open

Ms. J. Dagger, Senior Investigator
Terranova Investigative Services
#25 Merryman Way
New Babbage, New Babbage

Personal Journal

10 April NByr7

It was a nice enough day, until the word came of a mass fish kill down at the port. Decided to wander by and take a look. It was as bad as I had imagined it would be. The fish were piled into the spaces between the piers, driven in by the tide. They were all open water species, with a few I recognized as deep divers. Nothing really stood out as a cause for them being dead, so I took a few samples with the intention of getting someone who had more depth in biology to take a look. The boys down at the fertilizer mill were all too happy to claim the carcasses. I hope this isn’t a sign…

13 April NByr7

I expected that it was going to be a slow afternoon, and in spite of my best efforts to make it that way….
The city messenger charged in and nearly plowed over the welding cart I had left out on the floor, before sliding to a stop to rap on the door. I was up on the loft patio, relaxing with a drink and the new issue of Brunel’s Gazette. I dropped a couple of pence on the runner for his effort, and he managed to leave the note before collecting his tip and running off.
It didn’t take too long to hoof it over to the Patent Office in Wheatstone. Well, what was left of the Patent Office. It looked as if something walked or pushed though one side and walked out the other. I went over the place pretty carefully, and came up with nothing other than a headache from the stink of canal water. It reeked as bad as the docks did, but there were no floaties that I could see.
I sent out a few quickly written notes, and assembled a team of porters to carry the files from the office to City Hall. Civic duty, City records, etc etc, and let Ozzie worry about where to put them. Took a few pictures, and wondered what would have caused such a localized phenomenon.

15 April NByr7

Word on the street is ‘Brother’ Effingham is back in town. Lovely.

Spoke too soon. Apparently he nailed his demands to the City Hall door.
Someone saw him skulking around on Abney. Why won’t the nutters stay gone?

16 April NByr7

The old “temple” plot on the hill is getting busy. After posting his missive downtown, he apparently went up to the old foundation and did some chanting and arm waving.

I walked up there and found that someone decided to up the oogy-boogy ante and do some chanting of their own. I have come to the conclusion that Mumsy should have roped the joint off and charged admission. Folks come by, many fingers were pointed, many tales were told, many speculations were aired.

Despite my native cynicism, I dug up that box from my semester abroad in Massachusetts and pocketed a couple of old mementos. I know, I know. If it turns out to be nothing, no one will be the wiser.

18 April NByr7

Came home to Kimi on the roof with a bundle of equipment that I hadn’t seen out since we first met during the aftermath of the Martians. I asked her what was going on, and all she did was point. You could see it, even across the neighborhood. It looked like a heat mirage at first, then got…deeper looking. She told me that the new uprated version of the electrochemical rifle she built last fall was in my office. Once again, I tried telling her to go visit her aunt in Caledon, and once again I was told that she signed on for better or worse, and that worse included dimensional rifts or the end of the world as we know it. Who am I to argue with that?

Personal Journal: 27 Jan NByr7

It took a while to sink in. I was out checking on a few things, and happened to cut down the hill along Savory when I saw it, or didn't see it as the case may be.

The northeast corner lot at Abney Parkway and Savory Lane was empty. I walked across the cobbles and dirt to the spot I approximated as where my old favorite spot at the bar used to be and stood a while. I thought about how many nights I spent there, chatting with friends, or about that night a little over two years ago when I slipped a ring into someone's pocket.

Change is in the nature of the world, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I headed off towards Clockhaven, the wind off the water seeming a bit colder than normal.

((bon chance & bon voyage melniks))

Casefile: BB12182012

Location: #20 Abney Parkway, Bucket of Blood Public House, New Babbage, New Babbage

Synopsis: On 12/18 a body was discovered in front of the Bucket of Blood public house. The city coroner Dr M. Miggins made an initial examination on the scene. The body was transported to the mortuary for further examination. The crime scene was examined and evidence was collected for analysis.
The investigation is ongoing.

Ms. J. Dagger, Senior Investigator
Terranova Investigative Services
#25 Merryman Way
New Babbage, New Babbage

The petty officer stood at the door of the coal bin, watching the tall redhead in the dark blue peacoat pace back and forth inside the structure. Her anger was apparent, and the object of her anger was now obvious. Someone had built up a void space under the coalpile, to that to the casual observer it would look as if the bin was nearly full. The truth was revealed once the auger began transferring coal to the nearly empty bunkers of the Naval Squadron ship that had tied up for reprovisioning.

Jed pushed her hands a bit deeper into the pockets of her jacket, fists clenched. “Who has been in here? Has the watch been checking the gates?” The young sailor nodded “Yes’m, the only folks what been here have been workers from the city. Had papers signed by Mr. Underby, all proper like.” While he was speaking, Jed pulled a notebook out of her jacket and wrote a brief note. She tore the page from the notebook and placed it in the sailor’s hand. “Send this for me right now.” she said. Before he could say anything else, the Commodore was off and away walking towards the Depot. He threw a quick salute and headed back to the relative comfort of the wharf office.

In the distance between the Clockhaven docks and City Hall, Jed had time to think about what she was going to do. Underby was still the same weaselly paper-hanging bastard he had always been, but now he was in a position where he was a powerful and influential one. She opened the side door, tried to knock the majority of the snow off of her newly hobnailed boots, and began the climb up the staircase to the office that the Mayor’s assistant now occupied. The nails made an echoing click with each strike of the stair tread that reverberated through the largely empty building. Normally she would have tried to be much quieter coming in, but this time she really didn’t care if he heard her coming or not.
She pushed the door open, and found an unusually agitated Underby sitting in the corner of his office. Curiously, what passed for a look of relief passed his thin face as soon as he saw it was her.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit Commodore?” he said, the voice exceptionally dry and scratchy.
Jed looked at him squarely

“You damn well know why I’m here Oswald. You owe the Naval Squadron a full load of coal for the victualing yard, and I will hold you responsible if there are any more shenanigans down there, and if you say ‘I have no idea what you mean’ I swear…”
The sound of her voice trailed off as she caught herself and stood back up from where she had been leaning over the paper-cluttered desk. She thought to herself that he almost seemed relieved to be dealing with her, and that he was not quite himself.

“I’ll expect a deliver soon, and the militia will take care of the ‘repairs’ to the coalyard.”
She saw it in his face, finally. There was something he wanted to say, an idea pressing so hard on his mind that it seemed he had to will himself to not say it. Jed paused for a short moment as the thought dropped back into the abyss of his mind, and the same old look returned to his gaunt countenance. He smiled at her as he shifted slightly in his chair.

“I’ll see what I can do to assist you. Now if you'll excuse me...” as he looked down and began shuffling a stack of receipts from one pile to another.

Jed stalked out of the office and headed back to the Depot, hoping the coffee hadn’t run as low as the coal had.

Jed sat atop the Palisade wall in the little alcove overlooking the Fells. It had been a busy sort of week, with watching Beckett begin to square away the new squad of Marines, getting things ready for Fleet Week, and the general hubbub that seemed prevalent this time of year. So while everyone was otherwise engaged, she went to the armory, picked up her rifle and a few boxes of ammunition, and headed out to the wall. A quick circle around to the chip shop completed the provisioning for her expedition, and after a bit she found herself up on the wall overlooking the broad expanse that stretched out to the creek. The good news was her longstanding instructions were still in place, as curious as they seemed to anyone who might have observed it from the outside. On the edge of the creek there was a remnant of a brick wall, and on that wall stood a neat even row of objects. Old bottles, discarded bowling pins, oilcans, pails, and various other things stood there on the wall. One of the likely lads who wanted a bit of extra money would come by and say that the wall was in order to the tune of tuppence, and the tall redhead would return to her perch and clear them away.
She uncased the rifle and laid it on the sandbags she kept there as supports. This was the older of her two long-range Sharps, the one that signaled the end of the little surveillance episode that old Mureau tried to pull. It had been rebuilt since then, and fitted with a fine German made telescopic sight. Jed snuggled in behind the rifle, dropped the breech open and picked up one of the cigar sized cartridges, slipping it into the chamber. She pulled the stock into her shoulder, and looked into the eyepiece of the long ‘scope. She lined up on the dented KrakenOil can that sat at the left of the wall, then leaned back to examine the elevation settings on the base of the scope. Jed added two clicks up elevation, made a note in her notebook, and leaned back into the rifle. Her breathing slowed, deep in, half exhale, squeeze…
THOOOM!
She dropped the breech with a well-practiced downward flip of her wrist, and waited a bit for the smoke to clear. The can had been removed from its place, and the large tonic bottle next to it remained in situ. Her hand was on a second cartridge when she noticed the line of black clad folks walking in from the Academy side of the Fells. Jed rolled the rifle around and looked at the line of students carrying all manner of crossbows, followed by Brothers Lapis and Rudyard.
“Well well,” Jed said to herself “what are you boys up to now?”

3 June 188x,NByr 6
Jed sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair. This was not what she wanted, or expected, but it seemed that the boys from the Manor would have their pound of flesh one slice at a time. She noticed that she was wearing some sort of gauzy cotton nightgown in place of the silk chemise and underpants she was wearing under her gown at the party. The man noticed her change in expression and he already had a razor thin smile at the ready when the obviously annoyed redhead turned to look at him.
“Before you ask, your maid Lupe changed your clothes while you were asleep. She’s been seconded to you from our Latin America bureau, so you won’t be by yourself for the duration.”
“Lovely, already assigned me a handler to keep me in line?” Jed scowled.
The man shifted in his seat again. “She is also well aware of who you are and what you are capable of Morrigan. You keep thinking that we mean you harm, when it is the furthest thing from the truth. You may not know this but there is a new occupant in the Master’s chair.”
Her eyes narrowed as the man rose and began walking to the table at the other side of the room. She stood and walked across the floor to stand next to him, where he had already busied himself opening a thick folder sealed with scarlet tapes and numerous wax seals. Jed read the title on the folder and was suddenly gripped with a feeling of nostalgia and dread. Written there in her own hand was the legend “Operation Thunderbolt” and underneath was the box stating “prepared by Dagger, J 186..”. At that instant the silence in the room hung thick like a New Babbage fog.
“You may recall this man, Dr. Ramon Cortez, was working on several projects related to an advanced weapon system that you had determined would be sold on the open market,” he said, tapping the engine-printed picture of the man, “and the end brief said that the files and journals had been confiscated and that the good doctor would not be resuming work on this project.”
He opened a second folder and placed it on top of the first. “What we have learned now is the good doctor is working for an Eduardo Aguilar, a local industrialist who is flush with cash from a recent success in the regional markets. Mr. Aguilar fancies himself as becoming the Krupp of South America, and he feels that Dr. Cortez can give him the edge he needs to step into the arms market.”
Jed leafed through the new folder, reading the briefing materials and making mental notes of what she read. The doctor had come to the island a few months ago, and was living alone in a cottage adjacent to his workshop. Alone? This thought ran through her head as the man continued.
“The mission is pretty straightforward, assess the threat, observe any activity at the lab, gather any actionable intelligence or any materials about what the doctor is up to now, and take those actions necessary to ensure that there is no threat to Her Majesty’s interests in this area.”
Jed looked at the man as those words danced in her mind, the old bugaboo “any actions necessary” meant that she would have to decide, and the higher ups could walk away and say that it was merely the actions of an overzealous agent, or worse yet deny that she was even associated with the Ministry at all. New tune, same old dance.
“The overt cover is you are on holiday with your maid, and you will have the proper introductions to get you in to Mr. Aguilar’s evening get together. It seems he has a taste for English noblewomen, so Lady Burnley will be making a reappearance. He also has a taste for blonds..”
Jed swore under her breath.

The little airship sounded as if it was about to fly apart. Next time, the pilot mused, I’ll steal one that isn’t on the repair line. Next time. The thought that there could be a next time was an annoying thought, but was shuffled off to another part of the mind as a new mountain peak loomed large in front of the struggling flyer. Skimming valleys, running along ridgelines, threading though passes. This flight had been one of constantly being ‘up on the stick’, no pleasure cruise here, and with the constant threat of pursuit it had been a long nerve-wracking time. The sun pushed through the low clouds, and there was a very welcome sight of the Two Sisters and the Finger. This meant one turn through the pass, a short run along the edge of Bone Valley…then the Fells, and home. The reverie of being close to the end of this flight was interrupted by an increase of noise from the airship’s engine. The pilot cursed again, as that sound could only be made by the main bearings. It vibrated and strained so much the pilot feared it would come loose from its mounts, and all that could be done was turn up the oilers and pray they didn’t run out before the wall came into sight.
A few moments later, the ribbon of tracks along the aqueduct pushed out of the growing haze as the struggling little airship fought its way along. Just when it seemed the engine would finish the task before expiring, the envelope decided to raise the ante. Despite the best efforts by the weary pilot to keep the little ship in the air, it was losing altitude just as surely as the destination stood just out of reach. With a determination borne of desperation, the pilot pushed the throttle full open and pointed the doomed little ship towards the wall of the city. In a last desperate act to cling to the sky, the ship turned sharply to avoid the looming walls of Szuster House and raised its nose before coming to rest tail down in the dirt next to the Academy parapet. The pilot shut down the engine and moved away sharply from the wreckage as what little hydrogen was left in the envelope met the last of the heated metal of the now seized engine. The pilot stood watching the fire consume the flammable bits of the wrecked airship and thought that this way there won’t be any need to hide the evidence.
A solitary figure walked into the Muirsheen Durkin wearing a Prussian Fliegertruppen uniform. The bar was empty, and the figure walked to the counter and began to peel off the heavy layers of clothes that had been such a godsend while flying across the mountains. Once this was done, it took another bit of effort to locate where the proprietor had stashed the good rum. Devoid of the flight helmet, goggles, and scarf, the pilot took a long draw of Pussers from the bottle and pushed a tendril of blonde hair back behind her ear. She looked in the mirror and smiles that old familiar smile.
“Jed darlin’,” she said to herself, “nobody will believe this, even if you could tell them the truth.”