CHAPTER 35 - CHAMPAIGNE AND GUILT

“Pull harder, harder,… oops too hard,” shouted Daggy.

Punky looked up and saw Ed’s feet sticking out from under the pilots control panel, a mass of spaghetti confused wires, red, green, blue, lay in confusion all about him. A bundle of wires had just disappeared into a tiny duct and were wriggling their little copper wisps just beyond reach.

“Take it out, lets start again,” said Daggy.

“I almost had it,” said Ed.

They were all exhausted. Only the final wiring for the navigation systems remained to be completed and some tinkering with the pesky number three engine and boiler. They had a full cargo of gas, hydrogen, and Macboy Jewell, chief coal stoker and fireman was supervising the loading of 16 tons of number 9 coal. Two tons of bowling balls, food, books, and rescue equipment completed the loading sequence. She was going to be a bit heavy warned Daggy.

Ed wriggled out from under the maze of wires and the vast array of instruments that comprised the control panel. Ed said “I really don’t know why were even trying this. The navigations system provided by the contractor is never going to work. It’s a lowest bidder’s piece of garbage.” Ed cursed under his breath and then looked at Punky sitting in the pilot’s seat.

Punky smiled a kind of stupid hopeless smile at Ed. She could do nothing else. Both Ed and Punky knew, that Punky, the best pilot in all of Second Life, had one fatal flaw -- Punky was always getting lost. She had no intuitive sense of ‘dead reckoning’. In fact it was worse than that, for whatever direction Punky would choose when flying blind was inevitably 180 degrees wrong. Even if Punky decided the direction and then went in the opposite direction it would be wrong. Without a real navigation system to guide their way the entire endeavor was doomed. At altitude or in bad weather, without landmarks and without good internal navigation, the mission would be in real trouble.

Ed looked at Punky and thought to himself how did we all get ourselves in this situation. Committed to a hopeless mission, doomed to failure, in an untested airship, with malfunctioning electronics and dodgy engines and a ruthless determined enemy that must outnumber their crew a thousand to one. Hopeless. But duty called, and there was no one else. The future of Second Life depended on their success or failure. The consequences of failure were too horrible to comprehend. Ed smiled a kind of stupid smile at Punky. It was all he could muster.

Daggy looked up and was preparing to push the snake back into the duct work when the when she heard a commotion below in the hanger. “What now?” said Daggy. Another interruption and only four hours to get this ship in the air and on its way.

Daggy headed to the gangway off the gondola and descended the catwalk down to the ground. The small door was open and about 10 fully armed marines had begun to fan out into what Daggy recognized as a security screen. Someone important had arrived. Gods protect us from VIP’s thought Daggy. Punky and Ed deciding to stretch their cramped legs and followed Daggy down the gangway.

There was some noise outside the door, and then to their surprise in walked the Second Sea Lord, holding a large heavy cardboard box, together with an elderly woman. Daggy sprang to a salute as did Ed. Punky was always a bit slow in the formalities of the Navy so she just stood there scratching her head and rubbing her nose. Ed elbowed her, and she finally realized a salute was in order.

The Second Sea Lord returned the salute and walked to the gangway.

“Amazing, just amazing,” said the Second Sea Lord. The odds in Naval Intelligence were 16 to 3 that you would fail to make it in time. But here you are and it’s beautiful. The HMS Dread, beautiful…”

“Yes Mam,” said Daggy and Ed almost simultaneously. Punky thought about mentioning the navigation, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She had heard that it was an old navy tradition to ‘polish the brass’ and keep them in the dark - whatever that meant.

Punky looked closely at the elderly woman. She was trim and her grey hair still had a bit of blonde about it. She held her trim body very straight and she was a woman of real pluck decided Punky. She had steal grey eyes that did not waver. Her age was indeterminate but she was very old.

“Id like to introduce you,” said the Second Sea Lord. “Dagmon Zhukovsky, Ed Hallard, Punky Pugilist, and oh yes Tek Chronon I would like you to meet the widow of Fighting Jack.” Daggys jaw dropped. Ed immediately saluted. Punky was confused. Tek was fiddling with a gasket and barely looked up. Punky decided to salute when Daggy did so.

“And to what do we owe this honor Mam,” Daggy finally managed to say. Punky noted that he was almost stuttering and was very nervous.

“I’m pleased to meet you all. She’s beautiful,” said the widow of Fighting Jack motioning to the dirigible. “Just beautiful.”

Daggy positively beamed and Ed was standing very proud.

Fighting Jack’s widow continued “I don’t need to tell you of the import of your mission. The Order must be stopped. Their hatred and anger knows no bounds, and you must stop them at all costs.” She paused, “at all costs.”

The Second Sea Lord opened the box and drew out a bottle of Dom Pigeon Champagne. “Its time to christen this ship properly!” the Second Sea Lord said with a sailors fair weather smile on her face.

A ceremony was quickly arranged. The hangar staff was assembled. Half the marine security detail formed an honor guard. And the gantry was moved to the nose of the airship. Gratefully the Second Sea Lord skipped the speechmaking and flag waving. There was simply no time.

Fighting Jacks wife slowly climbed the gangway and then faced the nose of the great ship. She spoke in a surprisingly loud voice. Hoisting the champagne bottle over her head she “I christen thee HMS Dread, may those who sail in you return safely to us.” She swung the bottle hard. It didn’t break. It dented the nose and Daggy groaned. The skin was not broken, but a little divot appeared in the giant ‘D” of her name.

The Second Sea Lord burst out laughing as did Fighting Jack’s widow. Jack’s widow looked down upon the crowd and said “I have a better idea, let’s drink this instead!”

The crew cheered.

The Second Sea Lord had brought enough Dom Pigeon for everyone to have a sip. The nights work was not over.

As Mallory waited outside the grand office of The President of the Reserve Bank and Counting House of Second Life. She was scribbling her bill and checking her sums. “Lets see,” mumbled Mallory, “5 and ¼ hours, then two pedi cab rides, hmm can I include the ham and cheese from Khrons?” Mallory looked up. Chris was standing at the door of his office. Chris Llanfair said nothing but stood aside.

Mallory entered the office and looked about. Chris shut the door. It was a big office Mallory could see. Huge in fact. Far bigger than was needed for any executive. One wall was an array of huge windows opening onto a snow covered balcony. A small fortune in glass thought Mallory. The room was rectangular. Mallory estimated about 60 meters by 30. The walls were full of guilt and ancient woods. Pictures of old men and women hung from the far wall. From somewhere down below Mallory could hear the rumble of large machines and occasional muffled shouting.

Chris motioned toward his desk. There was another man in the room. He was standing next to the very large ormolu desk. Only one chair occupied the office and it was behind the desk. There was no paper work on the desk only an ink and pen set. But Mallory could see that the leather top of the desk was very worn which meant that they had probably removed all paper work from the room. Clearly Mallory was a risk. A security risk

Chris looked hard at Mallory. “Well?” he said.

Mallory turned a bit and did not look Chris in the eyes. She was studying the odd little man with the amazing hair. Mallory then saw the hands. One had was bandaged, and the other, well the other was different thought Mallory. Mallory turned to Chris.

“It took a while,” said Mallory, “Here’s my bill.” Mallory laid a small bit of paper torn from a child’s notebook. There were sums and figures on the paper written in black ink and in a tiny neat hand – Mallory’s hand.

Mallory was waiting for an introduction. Chris stared at Mallory, ignoring the bill. He was thinking and thinking very hard realized Mallory.

Chris turned his back on the odd little man and faced the window. “I love these windows, especially this time of year,” said Chris. He moved toward the windows and began pulling the curtains. In a few moments he turned back and approached Mallory. The light was dim. Mallory felt the need for a cig, but decided to delay. Character test she though as she laughed to herself.

“Mallory,” said Chris “this is Philpot.”

Mallory stared in the mans beady eyes. Where most men will look away this one did not. There’s something here thought Mallory. This guy is much tougher than he looks.

“Philpot Onus,” continued Chris.

Mallory nodded toward the little man. Onus didn’t move. He only stared into Mallory’s eyes making Mallory a bit uncomfortable. She had not felt this uncomfortable since the argument with Sam the night he was stabbed and killed. Goodword.

“Philpot is an old friend,” said Chris. “He’s …, let’s say he’s a protector of our heritage and freedom.”

A member of the Brick Layers Secret Society realized Mallory. She had guessed they existed and she had occasionally wondered if a few associates were members, but it was a very secret group. A myth really. The Governor and the press called them a rumor, a wild story with which to scare kids when the wont go to bed. But Mallory knew the seedy side of Second Life and she had a real hunch the Brick Layers were real. If the government and the press worked so hard to deny their existence, then …

Chris continued, “Tell Onus what you have discovered Mallory.”

“Well I’ve got the means and method down cold,” Mallory said slowly. Watching both Chris and Onus carefully. Mallory was looking for a reaction, for a hint of why Llanfair and this old man would be so concerned with some old jewels.

“I just can’t get the motivation,” Mallory said. “I just can’t figure it out.”

“And,” said Chris.

“There’s only one group with the discipline, organization, and technical ability to pull this off. They were pros, and the dead guards were the real give away,” she said. Mallory noticed no real reaction by either Llanfair or Onus.

“Who?” asked Chris.

“The Order,” replied Mallory.

Chris and Onus did not move. They were as still as death. Mallory laughed to herself, they already knew she realized. They knew all along.