NationStates Jolt Archive

Aboard a small plane over the Gallagan jungle

Jeff Williams was sitting back in the plane, looking over some notes he'd taken back in Ianapalis before being sent to Gallaga for some kind of fact-finding mission and tapping on his laptop computer, much to the surprise of the Iansislian crew that was reading over his shoulder. They were still in awe of the technological marvel. Jeff was just in awe that the thing actually ran after all this time.

I knew Dirwisham would try to punish me in some way, he thought as he added the latest list of notes to his files. But I didn't think he'd have the balls to 'request' I go to Gallaga on some kind of bogus fact-finding mission. So much for being safer as a member of the C.C.P.

James and Katherine had not been very happy with his assignment, but there was no way he could really turn it down. He'd tried to explain it to them, but he didn't understand himself. Just another 'intricacy' of the C.C.P. Of course, his recent statement to Inswick when he threatened to have his master send Jeff away, didn't help matters.

"I've stood against armies, assassins, vampires and dragons! You of all people don't frighten me."

Jeff took a drink of the coffee next to him and looked out the window of the place. The lush green jungle zipped by under him as he thought about his short time in parliament. They didn't want him there, neither the conservatives or the liberals could stand his attempts to broker deals that would help the people.. ahh, he knew he'd just get worked up again and that was the last thing he needed.

"It does look peaceful down there," he mused to himself as he watched the jungle.

"Looks can be deceiving sir," one of the crew said. "Below us are tigers, and savages you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley."

Jeff sighed a little at the 'savages' comment and keep his thoughts to himself. He'd already debated this with Tarriff and Dirwisham and others in the C.C.P. and finally decided it would have been easier to ram his head into the wall at Jameston Place over and over than get anything done.

"What's that?" Jeff asked as he pointed to a valley the plane was approaching.

"Dunno, mate," the crewman said. "Never seen 'at before. Looks like someplace we a'int checked out."

(Iansisle, it's your move ;) )

[tag for future posting goodness!]

"I've stood against armies, assassins, vampires and dragons! You of all people don't frighten me."

OOC: Imitorans on the other hand...of course, we aren't dangerous or anything...just crazy and chemically unstable...

"Dunno, mate," the crewman said. "Never seen 'at before. Looks like someplace we a'int checked out."

The young navigator sounded more than a little irritated. He didn’t say it, but how the hell was he supposed to know that? After all, it was his first time ever on the infamous St. Walburg-Allahabad-Indore route.

Indore, as the capital of the sprawling native state since Poona fell to the Calarcans, was the primary center for Iansislean intrigues in the Maratha Confederacy. Last of the once great states that resulted from the downfall of the Gallagan Empire, Maratha’s geography had allowed it to retain a relatively high degree of independence while Bengal, Mysore, and the Sind fell to westernized powers. Its domains in Rajputana were located at the intersection of the Company’s territory on the Gangetic Plain, the Ercolanan empire of the Indus river valley, and the Calarcan domains on the Deccan Plateau. As such, none of the three powers had been willing to accept domination by one side or the other, and the region had maintained its independence - to one degree.

Strong central control of government in the Confederacy was something that Nusheld, Gasgage, and Karachi could agree was quite undesirable. Under sometimes subtle and sometimes blatant pressure from the colonial governments, the hereditary powers of the Maharana were chipped away and given to the Peshwas, those local governers who controlled the outlying areas of the Confederacy. On those occasions when the power of the Maharana and his state were judged to be too great, the three empires would unite in a cynical and temporary alliance to humble Maratha. Similarly, when the power of any one foreign power was judged too great, the other two would present a united front and force the other to back down from its claims.

The political circumstances led to very exciting conditions in the Confederacy as Company officers, Ercolanans, and Calarcans snuck about and tried to determine why one another were sneaking about. Power politics, temporary military expeditions (usually justified by ‘chasing bandits’), and the intrigues of various spies gave the entire business a certain romantic appeal for the keneral periodicals, who exploited the ‘Maratha Game’ to its greatest extent.

The Game had become infinitely more dangerous for those who played it following the conclusion of the War. Ercolana had been thoroughly defeated by a Calarca-Iansisle alliance, but the sudden disappearance of its power in the far east, besides creating the question of what to do with its former colonies, had led to a certain polarization of relations in the Confederacy. Neither side had any serious intentions of conquering the Marathas, but the perpetual and unjustified fear that the other did turned one-time allies firmly against one another.

Of course, none of the three crewmen in the aeroflyer could have told Jeff much more about the situation than Calarca was the enemy and unquestionably held designs not only on the Confederacy but all of Iansisle and the Company’s far east possessions.

The navigator had been deputized as Jeff’s ‘companion’ for the flight, a duty which he had taken to with an increasing deal of resentment as the endless flight from the Shield wore on. He had originally been delighted - after all, this was Sir Jeffrey, the Duke of Williams, the slayer of dragons and a hero too many times to count! However, twenty hours, with only occasional refueling breaks, cooped up in an old-model Bankfield feeling as though it was your duty to talk to him would wear on anyone’s nerves, and the navigator had somewhat less patience than a saint.

Right now, he was sitting at his desk, pretending to be plotting their approach to Indore while he stared at the nudie magazine the co-pilot was 'reading.' Looking out the window at whatever obscure geographical feature Duke Williams wanted him to look at wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

Suddenly, the flyer rattled slightly. The navigator could hear the port engine spluttering and straining, and looked in confusion at the pilot.

“Hell,” muttered the other man, tapping on his control pannel. “We’ve just lost oil pressure in the port engine. I’m going to have to shut it down.” The pilot didn’t sound so much concerned as annoyed; after all, the flyer’s starboard engine was still running strong.

(ooc: *moves piece* check! :P Anyhow, I should mention that this post was written without Calarca's consent; any assumptions about Iansislean-Calarcan relations in the Confederacy was a continuation of general statements made while we plotted out what had happened between the end of the Gallagan thread and the modern day and my interpertation of his intentions. Specific references are my own, and I won't do any more than refer to Calarca in this thread.)

<<Stamp of Approval by Calarcian Protectorate>>
[Also known as tag since I think this is going to merge back with one of other threads...or have refrences to it...]

Jeff looked over at the crewman with a grin at the testy sound in his voice. He knew it'd been a long trip and he was also looking forward to stretching his legs again, and getting away from the flight crew for a little while. The navigator had been stuck to Jeff's side throughout most of the flight and he wanted to get some time away from him.

When the first engine shut down, Jeff looked out the other window towards the engine. He knew better than to ask about the engine, if they were back aboard the Defiance and someone had asked him what the hell just happened he knew how pissed off he'd be.

When the plane started rattling, Jeff wondered why he hadn't just taken one of Niven's transports when he had the chance. Rustic, travel in the 'old style' my ass.

Jeff heard a stream of curses flow out of the pilot’s mouth. “I’m losing pressure on the starboard engine too,” was the only thing he said of relevance, which was fortunate as it was also the only thing fit to print.

“Air-speed’s down to eighty knots,” snapped the co-pilot, his gawking now a thing of the past. “Fred, get on the squawker and let Allahabad know we’re having trouble. If this keeps up, we’ll have to try a field landing.”

“Lovely,” replied the navigator, moving over to his wireless set. There was a loud popping noise as his depressed the talk button. “Allahabad Control, this is...aw, damn!”

“What?”

“There was a power surge when I activated it - must have blown a fuse or something!”

“God damn it, Fred, I thought you said we had the wireless serviced back in Allahabad!” called the pilot, his voice more than a little panicked now. Jeff could see why; the starboard engine was billowing smoke as it fought against fused components to keep the flyer aloft.

“I did!” yelled back Fred, reaching backwards. “Hold on, I’ve got a spare here somewhere!”

“No time! That engine’s gonna give out any minute now,” snapped the co-pilot. “Look - there’s a clearing!”

Just over the horizon off the port wing, dark jungle canopy suddenly gave way to a yellow field of grass. Tiger grass, they called it. No matter: unlike a tree, a tiger couldn’t kill you if you hit it with an aeroflyer.

“I’ll try and put us down there!” agreed the pilot as the valiant starboard engine seized up at last. “This is going to be rough, everyone!” He pulled slightly to the left and back on his control wheel, trying to bank over and keep the nose up.

Oh Christ. And I'd like to thank you all for flying Iansislian Airways, where the landing is the most exciting part of the trip, raced through Jeff's grinning mind as he saw the smoke billowing from the starboard engine. Let's see, if I crawl out there with some wire, the battery from my laptop and a pair of jumper cables...

The plane closed in on the grass quickly as Jeff braced himself with the rest of the crew for the 'landing'.

God damnit Jeff, next time you want to piss someone off, just send an email...

The flyer responded very slowly as the pilot pulled on his wheel. He cursed and pulled harder, but to no extra result.

By now, the tops of trees were flashing by outside; the airspeed indicator may only read sixty knots, but it felt a hell of a lot faster. The flaps were still down; whether this was an intentional plan of the pilot to save enough forward momentum to clear the jungle or another equipment malfunction was unclear.

They didn’t quite make it to the open grass. With her nose held as far in the air as possible while she descended, the flyer’s tail was the first thing to clip a tree. The nose, despite the pilot’s best efforts, bucked downwards with the impact.

And then a tree cleaved the starboard wing, its engine still smoking, clean off the body.

The flyer was jolted around to starboard, despite the pilot jamming down on the port rudder. Then the tail caught another branch, shearing off the entire aft section from the plane. A branch ripped through the cockpit, and Jeff only had time to see a spray of blood before the port wing caught the ground. The flyer rolled over and over again, at last coming to a stop. They had - sort of - made it to the grass.

(like the landing? Too unrealistic? Too harsh?)

(Wow! I'm getting dizzy just thinking about that! No way dude, that's one hell of a description!)

Jeff's eyes opened, minutes.. hours, Christ he didn't know at this point... later. The last thing he knew the plane was tumbling around faster than a cheerleader that'd slammed a bottle of no-doze.

He slowly pushed himself up and looked around wobbly. He was still standing, marvel of modern-ish Celebornian technology that he was. He'd have to tell Niven that his handiwork could withstand a small plane crash.

The plane! It was nearby, to the left and right of him, and part of it was up in the tree.. oh wait that was part of the pilot up in the tree.

Jeff looked around the wreckage to see if anyone else was still in one piece.

(Then Jeff jumps up and down and runs to the back of the line to ride again!! :P )

Jeff heard a coughing from the largest section of the body still in one piece. Inside, he’d find Fred the navigator, covered in blood. Not his own blood; the entire area was sticky with that of the pilot and co-pilot.

Fred shook his head and stood kind of unsteadily. He was bruised, bleeding from a dozen minor cuts, and other minor injuries, but basically all right.

The plane, on the other hand, was just finished. The tail was lying fifty yards back at the start of the massive gouge the flyer had carved. There was no way it would be able to provide any cover.

Jeff helped Fred away from the flyer wreckage and towards the taller grass for some cover. He picked up a piece of cloth from the wreck and helped Fred get some of the blood off of him. He tried to check him for any concussions or more serious injuries.

"Well, that was certainly one hell of a ride," Jeff said looking around the grassland.

“No, no, I’m all right,” muttered Fred, waving away Jeff’s attentions and jokes. He didn’t seem quite as fine and dandy as that, however, and stumbled quite often even in the short walk.

Suddenly, he glanced about them and swore. “What are we doing out here? Christ, man - do you want to be jumped by a tiger!? We’ve got to get in some sort of cover!”

Just where Fred proposed to go was anyone’s guess; the dark jungle offered predators all of its own, which were doubtlessly just as lethal to an unsuspecting traveler as any tiger could be.

((ooc: I’m assuming we want to get back to the valley somehow? How’d you like to do that - whoever’s there sees the crash and goes to investigate, they stumble on a native village, etc. It’s up to you, man.))

Jeff tried to make Fred as comfortable as he could before heading back over to the wreckage to see what he could salvage. He picked up of the seats from the plane and looked underneath it to find his messenger bag. He opened it and saw his laptop in several pieces in the bag.

Can't use it, but maybe I can salvage a couple of parts from it.

He moved toward where the storage lockers were and tried to pry them open, looking for a survival kit or weapons of some sort before the night fell. (any luck?)

"Hey Fred," he called back, "How long past due do we need to be before they attempt to locate us?"

(You just beat me to the post ;) I was thinking there could be a village or a river once Jeff and Fred start walking.... that way! *points in some random direction*)

"Hang on Fred, you're not looking too well there," Jeff said walking over to him. "Before we rush off, let's see if we can find something to take with us. God knows what there is in the jungle, let's get ready."

Jeff might have been a little disgusted to find that Iansislean emergency medical packs still carried opium as the primary pain-killer. On the other hand, at least most of their equipment was built to last.

The wireless unit was trashed, but Jeff discovered that the standard issue rifle - a modern .303 M74B as the massive downsizing of the army since the war meant that Iansisle had nearly a half million more of the things than it needed - and its single 15 round magazine were just fine. Certain other things in the survival pack - flares, a phrasebook covering most of the major languages in Gallaga, a map a compass, and even a rather bulky flashlight looked ready to go, although the compass had a large chip on its face.

"They'll try and raise us on the wireless if we're a couple hours late," replied Fred. "Failing that, they'll call up Allahabad and ask if we really left. Then they'll give it another few hours before starting any sort of rescue operation."

The navigator sounded pretty confident they'd be looked for; after all, he was with the Duke Williams! The government in the past had tried to move the earth to ensure that man's safety. All he had to do was keep the local wildlife off him, shoot up a flare when a flyer crossed overhead, and they'd be homefree.

(You just beat me to the post ;) I was thinking there could be a village or a river once Jeff and Fred start walking.... that way! *points in some random direction*)

"Hang on Fred, you're not looking too well there," Jeff said walking over to him. "Before we rush off, let's see if we can find something to take with us. God knows what there is in the jungle, let's get ready."

((and now you beat me to one. Well, I suppose all's fair in love, war, and..um...this situation. ;)))

"Wouldn't it be safer to stay with the flyer?" asked Fred grumpily. Apparently, he hadn't noticed the dark liquid dripping from what used to be the starboard wing.

(yeah, he's with the Duke Williams, so God knows what'll happen to him ;) )

"Gotcha," Jeff said, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and picking up the survival gear. "I think we should try to find a river. If nothing else we can stay near the water and probably find a village or something."

(check your TG's)

"All right, a river," said Fred, scanning his eyes over the horizon. Not that it did much good; all he could make out was an endless field of yellow and the imposing wall of green.

He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. With any luck, we'll find ourselves a Maratha village and see if we can get the message out to the Confederacy."

(checked and replied!)

"All right," Jeff nodded as he cranked up the hearing in his enhancement. After a few moments of listening and sweeping the horizon he turned to Fred quickly.

"There's running water to our left. I don't know how far, sounds a bit away," he said. "And there's something rattling around behind us at 8 o'clock," He added jerking his thumb behind his left shoulder and handing Fred the rifle. He bent down and pulled up his pant leg far enough to show the cybernetic replacement to his left leg and pulled the small pistol out of the compartment.

"Thanks dad," he said to himself with a smile as he stood up.

“Some hearing you’ve got,” muttered Fred as he took the rifle. He’d heard rumors of Duke Williams’ cybernetic enhancements (though perhaps not in those terms as such), but wasn’t in any place to complain about them.

“If there’s a river around here, there’ll probably be a village next to it,” he said, more out of conjuncture than any true knowledge of Gallaga. “Maybe they’ll even have a wireless set, or be able to direct us towards somewhere that does.

“Just promise me you’ll keep those ears on,” Fred said was they set off. “I’d really rather not become the main course on some tiger’s menu.”

Jeff smiled at him, "No problem, I'll hear whatever's out there before they hear us, I think," he said. "I'll take point, you watch our backs."

Jeff and Fred slipped into the darkening jungle, following the sound of the river as it grew louder. Jeff stopped suddenly and pulled Fred down under the brush.

Before Fred could ask what the hell, Jeff put a finger to his lips and then pointed off to the distance. A few minutes later, a young tiger stalked through the brush and across their path. The tiger kept moving and vanished back into the jungle. After waiting a little while longer, Jeff and Fred stood back up.

"Let's go," he whispered.

Fred had never seen a real, live Gallagan tiger - not even in a zoo - and the view was somewhat sobering. He had half moved to take aim with his rifle, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

Even after the beast had slipped away into the far undergrowth, he was too nervous to speak in anything louder than a whisper, but instead followed silently on behind Jeff.

"Pretty interesting, huh?" Jeff asked. "This place is amazing!"

After another hour of going through the brush, the river was flowing, loudly. As the pair burst through the jungle, they almost slipped into the rushing river.

"Talk about that next step being a doozy!"

Neither Jeff or Fred probably knew it, but they’d stumbled upon a small tributary of the Sagar River. Had they followed it north to the Sagar, and then east to where that flowed into the Betwa, they would have been led to the Yamuna. And Allahabad was located where the Yamuna met the Ganges. Of course, they would have found any number of other large villages and small cities before that, and it was a trip of more than six hundred miles.

However, right now it was just a fast rushing stream, which probably drowned out the more tame sound of the slower-moving Sagar.

“No kidding!” agreed Fred, grabbing at a tree to keep from falling in. God only knew what sort of fish lived in there! “Well, we’ve found the river. Upstream (south) or downstream (north) sound better to you?”

Jeff flipped a coin, it came up heads.

"Let's head downstream," Jeff said, "If nothing else, this might lead us to a village downstream, or a lake or ocean depending on how far it goes. We should hit some kind of civilization before we hit a lake or ocean."

Edit: I'm gonna crash. I'll catch ya tomorrow!

((*celebrates* I win! *immediately falls over into a dead sleep*))((*celebrates* I win! *immediately falls over into a dead sleep* ;)))

“Sounds reasonable to me,” replied Fred. He was a little concerned, though - with the vegetation growing right up to the edge of the river like this, how would a village clear enough land? Or rather, with all that free land, why would they bother?

He was confident they’d find something sooner or later - there were millions, perhaps even billions, of people in Gallaga - but was now worried they wouldn’t find something before they had to rest (and facing the jungle without Jeff’s ears wasn’t something Fred relished!).

Worse yet, in inhospitable terrain like this, they may find a village well isolated from the mainstream of Gallagan politics; somewhere that white skin and an Iansislean accent weren’t guarantees of safe passage. Or even somewhere that the same were a death warrant.

As these unhappy thoughts passed through his head, Jeff slowly became aware of footsteps on the other side of the river. Perhaps it was interference from the rushing water, or perhaps whatever it was was just naturally silent. However, ‘it’ was also bipedal.

OOC: I take it the quick and easy ICMC rescue party investigating a downed aircraft picked up by satalite woulnd't be appriciated...What about a Yautjan...or four...

(HMmm, a yautjan might be fun ;) )

Jeff slowed down his walk and looked across the river.

"Step back a second," he told Fred as the two slipped back into the jungle and looked out across the water. "I think I heard something."

Well, its your call. I'll wait till you approve before sending down a hunter...or better yet...a bad blood...

There was a loud - well, considering Jeff's hearing, relatively loud - sound from across the river; maybe a small twig snapping. And then all the noises stopped.

"Is it another tiger?" asked Fred. He didn't sound like he wanted it to be.

"I don't think it is," Jeff said, "There were only two footsteps, probably a person."

Jeff switched his sight to infrared and zoomed the targeting scope into the jungle in the direction of the sound. (Yeah, I had him pretty borged out last time the crew was in Celeborne ;) )

There was a single man, standing quite still. He was holding a spear, and staring directly at them.

"A savage?" asked Fred cautiously, holding the rifle a little closer to his body.

"Maybe," Jeff said. "Stay here a minute."

Jeff stepped into a clearer view and waved to the man across the river.
If he tries to throw that spear, I can still pop a cap into him..

"Be careful," warned Fred in a whisper, perhaps somewhat redundantly and with a definate trace of racism. "I've heard a lot of stories about these Marathas. Real warlike; they say even in the cities they're hardly more civilized than three hundred years ago."

Across the river, the tribesman noticed Jeff and walked forward. "Namaskar!" he shouted across the rushing river.

"Got it. Well, hopefully this one won't be really warlike. Maybe he's just out hunting for some dinner, and if he's here, maybe there's a village nearby."

Jeff looked around the river to find a possible crossing point.

Damnit! All this cybernetic enhancement and I neglected getting a damn Gallagan to English implant!

"Hello," Jeff yelled back. "I don't suppose you could tell us where we are? Sprechen sie Deutsch? Parlevous Francais?"

(Oh yeah, and check your TG's ;) )

OOC: Consider this a glorified tag....there will eb no hunting until one of ya'll gives me the thumbs up...

IC:

Above Jeff, a lone beast stood, crouched over in a tree. The world appeared in a multi color heat spectrum to it, and he saw only the heat of the two mens bodies'. He stayed hunched, the heat vision zooming in briefly on Jeff and Fred, then back out.

In his right hand, he held a large, inch and a half diameter, three foot long tube, that with a press of a button, could be fully extended to teh same 7 foot as the beast. At his hip was a disc like object. On his right shoulder was a gun of some sort, folded backwards over his back.

He stood, still invisable, and moved quietly with the wind, from branch to branch, till he was over Jeff. He didn't make a sound, only listend, picking up the speech of the two men.

(checked+replied)

The man frowned. He said a few more things in Marathi, then gestured downriver. He took a few halting steps, gestured at Jeff, and pointed into the forest where Jeff had left Fred (and the Gallagan languages phrase-book ;)).

(oh yeah... I'll get that clue on the seventh or eighth try.. ;) )

Jeff slipped back into the jungle and picked up the Gallagan Phrase Book from Fred.

"Keep an eye on this guy, just in case," he said before slipping back out toward the river.

"You want me to keep an eye on him?" asked Fred, his horse voice nearly breaking on each pronoun.

It didn't seem to matter; Jeff was gone again before he could lodge any sort of formal protest.

The Gallagan frowned when Jeff returned with the book but without Fred. He spoke again, slowly this time.

The phrase book seemed pretty formidable at first, but Jeff quickly discovered that it was broken down into more than two dozen languages. Bengali and Hindi covered the largest sections, but the area on Marathi was fairly formidable.

There was no way to be certain without a proper translator, but the young Gallagan seemed to want Jeff and Fred to come with him - there was no secret about the Iansislean navigator, apparently - and that there was another Iansislean back at his village.

(ooc: found a little extra gas in the tank ;))

(Woo Hoo! I have a case of Dr. Pepper Fed-Exed to ya ;) )

Jeff nodded, "Hey Fred," he called back, "Come on out. It looks like, if I'm reading this right, there's another Iansislian back at his village."

Jeff gauged the look on Fred's face as he stepped out, "And it looks like he wants us to come over for dinner," Jeff flipped through a couple of pages, "Or is it come over as dinner... Ah who knows." he added with a wink.

(mmm...Dr Pepper)

"That's not very funny," grumbled Fred as he wrestled his way out of the tangled underbrush. "Not very funny at all." He looked tired most of all, and a little worried about their new companion. Still, he was on the other side of a wide, fast moving river, and had so far been as polite as circumstances really permitted.

"Granted, I am ready to take the risk they want us for dinner," he said. "If he's lying - and was incorrectly translated - at least the end'll be quick." Fred grinned. "And just think of all the lovely parasites we're keeping in our bodies to give to them! Ah, sweet revenge!"

Jeff chuckled as they started to follow where the man was directing them, "That's the spirit! Always look on the bright side of things!"

(&%%!!! I had the whole &%^ing post typed out, and then...*shakes fist*)

The journey seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for how much ground they must have covered as the crow flies. Part of it probably came from the inhospitable terrain and the need to follow the river’s every turn; the other part was probably Fred’s near-constant complaining.

They came upon the village at last. It wasn’t much to look at: just a few huts grouped around a communal alter near what looked an awful lot like the village Jeff had seen from the air. There was one distinguishing feature: a pale Shieldian crouched near the town center with a small group of children, gesturing with his hands. He was dressed almost to a stereotype: pocketed shirt, safari hat, and shorts all of a simple khaki.

As Jeff and Fred approached, he looked up and smiled with the look of one who had been expecting them. The man walked over, hand extended, and started speaking in the fast, clipped tones of an extra-Ianapalis Shadoranite.

“Ah, I was rather hoping you’d find your way here! I saw your flyer go down, and was most worried. Oh, but how rude of me! - I’ve not introduced myself yet.” He flashed another toothy grin. “Nigel Leyland, East Gallaga Company Anthropological Service.”

((I think that last kick’s running out...night, man!))

(Jeff turns to Short Round in the card game, "The trouble with him is the noise " ;) )

Jeff walked through the jungle, around the rivers twists and turns, listening to Fred complain while trying to keep his good humor. "Look at it this way, we're alive, which is better than the alternative."

The pair walked into the village and walked over to meet the man heading towards them.

"Hi, nice to meet you. Anthropological Service? the East Gallaga Company never ceases to amaze me," he said as he shook the man's hand. "I'm Jeff Williams and this is Fred. We're certainly glad to see you."

(G'night man! See you in the morning.. ish! )

((click once, post twice..whee!))

((Keep that up and I’ll chuck a snake at you! :P ...or maybe even a watermelon!))

“Jeff Williams?” Leyland asked with an arched eyebrow. “Surely not as in the Duke of Williams? If so, I must say this is quite the honor, your grace!”

Fred cleared his throat as if to say “hey, I’m here too!” But didn’t quite merit a second look; after all, Jeff didn’t even know his last name.

He suddenly turned and beckoned for Jeff and Fred to follow him. “Here, I’ve just put a pot of tea on. You two must be absolutely exhausted by your ordeal!”

(Not a snake!! Well, I was gonna have him turn to Fred when they started down the river and say 'We walk from here.' :P )

(Oh yeah, and it wasn't an intentional snub, I wasn't sure what Fred's last name was and tried to wing it.)

"You know, I get that a lot," Jeff smiled, "And I don't think I'll ever get used to it. Besides, Fred's gets almost all the credit for making sure we had a landing that at least we could walk away from."

Jeff let Fred walk ahead as they walked over to have some tea, "Thank you Mr. Leyland. I think some tea would be great."

Jeff sipped the tea before asking, "So how long have you been here then? And what are you doing for the company out here?"

((I don’t think I’ll EVER get enough Indiana Jones jokes. :) oh, it's all right - I've not mentioned Fred's last name on purpose. Just sort of keeping him anonymous ;)))

Fred shrugged. He was considered and instantly disregarded by Leyland, who took to Jeff almost sycophantically.

“How are things on the Shield?” he asked. “We don’t get much news out here, I’m afraid!” and “How is Lady Katherine? And the children?”

Apparently, they got enough news to know just about everything about Jeff. Not that it hadn’t graced the cover of every newspaper on the Shield since James’ coronation.

Once in the tent, he waved away a young Gallagan servant and poured it himself. “Sugar?”

“Yes, please,” smiled Fred. Leyland sighed and put a spoonful in Fred’s cup. “And for you, Your Grace?”

“I’ve only been out here a couple months now,” said Leyland. “Well, at this village, that is. I’ve been in the bush for a year and a half, but they keep us moving around a bit; I’m supposed to have visited two more by the new year.

“I’m in the Anthropology department,” he continued. “It sounds fairly fancy, but all I really do is move about here in the Maratha borderlands and try to get a gauge of the people. Some basic studies, some linguistic things; then I move on to the next village.”

((I don’t think I’ll EVER get enough Indiana Jones jokes. :) oh, it's all right - I've not mentioned Fred's last name on purpose. Just sort of keeping him anonymous ;)))

Fred shrugged. He was considered and instantly disregarded by Leyland, who took to Jeff almost sycophantically.

“How are things on the Shield?” he asked. “We don’t get much news out here, I’m afraid!” and “How is Lady Katherine? And the children?”

"Things on the Shield are all right, the conservatives are in power in the C.C.P. Katherine and the children are doing just fine," Jeff said. He didn't like that his family was that visible, but given his small amount of celebrity he could understand why they were.

Apparently, they got enough news to know just about everything about Jeff. Not that it hadn’t graced the cover of every newspaper on the Shield since James’ coronation.

(So what are you trying to say then? :P )

“Yes, please,” smiled Fred. Leyland sighed and put a spoonful in Fred’s cup. “And for you, Your Grace?”

“I’ve only been out here a couple months now,” said Leyland. “Well, at this village, that is. I’ve been in the bush for a year and a half, but they keep us moving around a bit; I’m supposed to have visited two more by the new year.

“I’m in the Anthropology department,” he continued. “It sounds fairly fancy, but all I really do is move about here in the Maratha borderlands and try to get a gauge of the people. Some basic studies, some linguistic things; then I move on to the next village.”

"Yes, please," Jeff replied as Leyland added sugar to his cup. "How do they decide which villages you should visit? Is it just a straight line? And how do you learn the language? I had a hard enough time with the phrasebook a little while back."

(clicky oncie, posty twicie!)

((We can't help it; we jus' love Jeff too much :P))

“Well, they draw up a plan back in the front office. Usually, we stick on our own side of the border, but the powers that be want to get a reading on the Maratha as well. Especially if things keep going downhill with Calarca.

“As for the language, you get used to it,” he shrugged. “I speak five different Gallagan tongues, including Marathi. Sometimes, it’s easy to go from one to another; other times, they’re entirely different language groups. Take Marathi for example: that was one of the harder ones for me to learn, mostly because they don’t speak it anywhere near the Company’s university in Nusheld. But it also has more consonants - just about fifty per cent more, actually, than English has letters!”

He went on and one, with lots of complicated terms and erratic hand gestures. As he kept talking, his voice took on more and more of a drone’s attributes.

“I’m tired,” said Fred suddenly. He sounded like it.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” said Nigel quickly. “Duke Williams, you must be awfully exhausted after your ordeal. I can only offer my simple bed, if you’d like it.”

(And Jeff loves it in Iansisle too ;) )

Jeff listened to Leyland and tried to follow his logic about the language, but was getting caught up on the number of letters in it. Either that, or he was really tired...

“I’m tired,” said Fred suddenly. He sounded like it.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” said Nigel quickly. “Duke Williams, you must be awfully exhausted after your ordeal. I can only offer my simple bed, if you’d like it.”

"Yeah, I'm a little drained," Jeff said. "But I'll sleep on the floor or a blanket or something, there's no reason for you to give up your bed. Maybe some rest is just what we need after all."

*snip* Damn forums are getting uppity again...

*snip* Damn forums are getting uppity again...

((ick, tell me about it! They need a good bonk over the head, or something!))

"Wherever you'll be most comfortable, Your Grace," said Leyland, drawing a piece of cloth over one of the windows. "The important thing is that you get your rest." He stepped over to the door. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

He was as good as his word; Nigel waited just out and to one side of the door, waiting and listening.

Edit: Jeff fell into a deep sleep quickly after Nigel left the small hut, seemingly oblivious to the world.

(heh heh, I thought we were on the same wavelength, but I didn't want to be presumptuous in case you had another plan. It's all you man ;) )

(oops...telegram being shot out to ya!)

(Read and replied to!)

About ten minutes later: "Duke Williams?" called Nigel softly. He walked into the hut. "Your Grace?" he asked in a normal voice, then smiled at the lack of response. He gave Fred a solid nudge with his foot. "Perfect, perfect," he said, rubbing his hands together.

Leyland called something in Marathi, and four young men walked in. There was a quick exchange of speaking, Nigel pointed at Jeff and Fred's sleeping forms, and then indicated over his shoulder.

The Gallagans picked up the two men and bore them off towards the valley.

Several hours later...

Several hours later...

... Jeff slowly rolled his head from side to side as he groggily woke up.

Jesus, I feel worse now than I did before I fell asleep. And someone needs to work on the windows in this hut, it's way too bright to be insi... inside. What the hell?

Jeff's eyes flashed open and the bright light flooded his vision for a moment before the enhancements kicked in and toned it down.

(leaving it open to you if he and Fred are gagged or not)

"I wouldn't try to move too much if I were you, Your Grace," came Nigel's voice, almost lazily. "I've heard about your implants, but I don't think you're quite that fast."

Jeff was tied up against a pole of some sort, and there was another twenty yards away. Fred was tied up to that one, and a young Gallagan was holding a revolver to his head.

Nigel stood about five yards in front of Jeff, his gun held casually at his side.

Jeff groaned as he looked at Nigel and the man holding the gun at Fred, "So, I'm guessing this isn't some indoctrination into the tribe? Damn, I didn't think my cologne was that bad.

"Are Fred and I about to get voted off the island?"

“I’ve heard you had something of a wit, Your Grace,” said Nigel with a sly smile. “Good to I see I wasn’t let down.”

He shook his head. “You know, it’s really almost too bad you stumbled onto our little operation here. But I’m afraid we just can’t have any security leaks.”

Nigel smiled. “I really am sorry about this, Your Grace.” Then he raised his gun and shot Jeff in the chest.

"Yeah I'm just a regular comedian," Jeff said, "Be sure to tip your waitresses and cigarette girls."

Jeff heard the gun crack and his last conscious thought was the bullet slamming into the center of his chest. His head dropped forward as blood shot out of his mouth and he fell as far forward as the ropes would let him.

(Check your TG's )

“Hmph.” Nigel walked up to Jeff and pulled his head up. There was no pulse. “Some implants.”

“What about this one?” asked the man holding a gun on Fred.

“Leave him. He’s no threat,” replied Nigel coldly. “But leave His Grace for when he wakes up; always good to have an example. Now come on; we’ve got some work to do.”

And they both left, a heavy door slamming behind them.

Jeff... well, there's not much he can do.

An hour or two later, Fred opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times in the light, but it took a few seconds for him to become aware of his new surroundings. They processed - bright light, tied to pole, Jeff’s dead - and one by one, his nerves fired off in the proper sequence to produce a response to the stimuli.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered.

His voice must have carried some way in the chamber, because his words caused the heavy door to swing open again.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” grinned the large Shieldian who stepped through, his rifle casually tucked in the crock of his arm. “The boss wanted me to put you to work.”

“Boss? Work?” Fred’s synapses must not have worked up fully yet.

“Yeah. Any other words you’d care to repeat? The? To?” He grinned. “I thought all we needed was a canary, and we get a flippin’ parrot. Lovely.” The big man untied Fred and shoved him forward. This was really more than Fred needed or wanted; he fell flat forward on his face. With a grunt, the guard - or whatever he was - pulled Fred out of the room.

(need another character, Lark? ;))

(lark, TG! An exciting one, too!)

(And replied to! Good one!)

(need another character, Lark? ;))

(Well, let me see... how many years will it take for Marcus to grow up... :P )

“Do you know what this is, Mr. Leyland?” someone was saying. Fred couldn’t see him.

“An old, dusty book.”

“Idiot. This isn’t just any book - here, look!”

“‘The Journal of G. Cognomi di Cortona.’ So what?”

“Don’t you know who Giovanni Cognomi di Cortona was, Mr. Leyland?”

“An Italian. An Italian who kept a journal.”

“There are times, Mr. Leyland, when I wonder what - if any - good you do me on this trip.”

“Plenty. Or didn’t you know that that was the Duke of Williams, the man who single-handily took down the Archduke of Sentry Island’s entire security force? The man who destroyed a five-furlong long dragon? The man who...”

“I get the picture. Giovanni Cognomi di Cortona was an freelance Tuscan explorer who was alive right around the time of the First Maratha War, in 1775. He ran into some money at home, and used it to go on a dig in Gallaga.”

“A dig for what?”

“You’ll see, Mr. Leyland. Something worth more than even you can imagine. There is one caveat, however.”

“Only one? That’s a pleasant surprise.”

“They say it’s cursed.”

Nigel Leyland laughed. “That’s lovely.”

“Plenty. Or didn’t you know that that was the Duke of Williams, the man who single-handily took down the Archduke of Sentry Island’s entire security force? The man who destroyed a five-furlong long dragon? The man who...”

Shortly after Fred was drug away, the cybernetics that lightened Jeff's heartbeat and slowed his breathing, faking his death, ebbed away. He needed to thank Niven for installing that as well back after the Grant incident.

He woke up, dangling from where he was tied to the pole, and creeped one eye open slightly to look around the empty room. He saw the trail of where the guard drug Fred away.

Jeff tried to take a small breath, but winced when he felt the splintered parts of his sternum resist the movements of his lungs and the sharp pain in the center of his back.

Oh Christ, what in God's name did I get Fred and me into?

Fred! He swung one eye over to the other pole and saw Fred was missing.

Damnit!

He looked around the room again, no one was there, that he could see. He switched through the different cyber optics and checked that the room was clear. While he was doing that, he quietly moved his hands so the tops of his wrists were exposed to the rope. This is gonna hurt He closed his eyes and shot out the blades from his wrists to cut the ropes. He couldn't stop them before they extended and he felt them cut into his back and forearms.

As the ropes were cut, Jeff slumped to the ground, curled in a partial ball. He winced as he landed, quickly slapping the cyberleg to set the spare nanites in his system and activated his CNS pain damper. He stayed quiet a moment to see if anyone would walk into the room.

“W-what happened to him?” asked Fred quietly as the big man drug him past the conversation. He was pointing at what had once - probably - been a human being. What few identifiable pieces were left showed the man to be a Gallagan.

“The idiot triggered some sort of booby trap. Part of the roof fell right out and crushed him.” The big man didn’t seem to have any sort of sympathy for the dead Gallagan. He pulled Fred to his feet and thrust him forward. The navigator found he was now standing in entrails and blood nearly an inch thick. It was all he could do to keep from retching, or slipping for that matter. He nearly lost it at the face of a tortured Gallagan face with a thick metal barb sticking through its side.

“What is this place?”

“A doorway. And we need it open.”

“Are you insane?! I’ll be killed!”

“You might be.” Fred, who was still looking at one particularly grotesque dead body, heard a gun cock behind him. “On the other hand, if you don’t try, you will be dead.”

How the hell did I get into this?! thought Fred as he stared at the door. It was made of stone, and with a complex series of hatches and handles.

((I think I need to shove off, man. I'll catch you later!))

OOC: Umm, Iansisle, is this about that knife that Underaloz's character found in the Gallaga thread? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that one of Underaloz's own characters found it again somewhere in modern time. After that the thread got confusing as hell (literally) so I don't quite know where the knife ended up, but I'm pretty certain it's no longer in Gallaga, and certainly nowhere that Leyland would find it. Maybe you can extract some useful information here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=65387).

No big deal - I'm sure there are plenty of other cursed artifacts around.

EDIT: One ought not to post when one has just woken up; it tends to make one a little short-tempered. Milostein, thanks for catching that. I didn't know what had happened outside of that one thread; hence my own rush to attempt continuity. I realize it was a little foolish of me; I've changed it to my own plot.

After a few minutes and no sign of a guard, Jeff rolled over and drug himself up.

No guards. Guess they bought it.

He winced as he stood. Jeff thought he could feel the nanites rebuilding him, but god he still ached. He figured he'd already had enough titanium in him to build a tank with, what was one more bullet. Although, it still felt like someone worked his chest over with a sledgehammer.

He crept up to the door and peeked out, following Fred's trail.

It was pretty clear that wherever they were holding, or rather, had ‘killed,’ Jeff somewhere underground. Rough tunnels, supported by braces of wood and lighted by crude electric lamps spread out in every direction.

The path of Fred’s body led out the door and down a hallway to the right. However, just a couple of yards down, it got too mingled with the other various footsteps, tracks, and such to track.

The hallways Jeff could see were abandoned for now, but he suddenly heard the crunching of boots on gravel from around the passage ahead of him and to the left.

Jeff ducked behind one of the beams in the shadows. He looked for a club or weapon then looked down the corridor, switching to an infrared view to see how many people were there.

It was just one, dressed much like Nigel had been earlier, with the addition of a lighted hardhat. He was walking slowly down the corridor, studying a clipboard of information and whistling absentmindedly. He didn’t notice Jeff...

(He didn't?

:twisted: )

Jeff saw the man walking down the corridor, he wrapped his hands around the piece of wood in them and thought two quick words.

Mark McGuire... ;)

As he past Jeff, he swung, aiming at the back of the man's head.

There was a dull thud as the third Bash Brother’s homerun swing connected with the back of the man’s skull. Not even John Olerud’s helmet could have protected him; whoever it was went down like Tommy Lasorda at the All-Star Game. However, as the sticky substance oozing from the back of this guy’s head proved, he didn’t bleed Dodger blue.

(now that I’ve exhausted every baseball joke I know...;))

(heh heh, I've got one more...)

Jeff picked up the man and carried him back into the room he woke up in. Then he threw the man down behind some crates like Pedro Martinez with Don Zimmer. :P

(Does this guys's gear fit Jeff?)

((:lol: Well, Jeff's a little tall for the average Iansislean...I'd say close fit, but probably a little short around the ankles and waist.))

The clothes may not have fit well enough to keep people from noticing Jeff, but he did find something - the guy's clipboard. A brief examination of the papers would show lists of names, most of them Gallagan-sounding, dates labeled as 'First Tier Reached' and 'Inner Sanctum Breached,' and an ID badge of somesort, showing the limp figure to belong to one Mr. Dan Goodman, an engineer.

Whatever else the papers were, they hadn't come from the East Gallaga Company.

(that's right, he is, forgot that... so it's like that scene in Raiders where Indy was trying to put on that guys' uniform ;) )

Jeff clipped the ID badge to the shirt and slipped the hard hat on. He stepped out and started walking down the tunnel, looking down at the clipboard and trying to avoid being seen again.

Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be much traffic around this place, either now or at any time. The tunnel Fred’s trail led down seemed to be newer than the rest; its walls seemed much rougher and more hastily cut than the other ones Jeff had seen.

He could hear a great number of voices talking and tools clinking from down the hall...

((heh, I love that scene...and that movie in general. ;) I'm going to shove off for a bit; hopefully, I'll be able to get on later tonight.))

(no worries, I gotta go walk the dog too)

Jeff slipped down the tunnel and slowed as he walked down, trying to tune up his hearing and catch what the voices were talking about.

There were a lot of voices, all talking at once. Out of the general din, Jeff picked up two voices:

“You’ll see, Mr. Leyland. Something worth more than even you can imagine. There is one caveat, however.”

“Only one? That’s a pleasant surprise.”

“They say it’s cursed.”

Nigel Leyland laughed. “That’s lovely.”

“Is that other one you picked up ready to give ol’ faithful another try?”

“As ready as he’s going to be, I’d imagine. Dan ought to be down here in a moment, in case we find anything new.”

Great, cursed items... getting shot in the middle of the f---ing jungle. When I get back to Iansisle, I'm gonna rip those bastards limb from limb... Wait. The other one?? Oh shit! Fred!

Jeff moved a little closer and picked up a pebble and threw it down the corridor so it landed on the far side of the group.

Unfortunately for Jeff, the noise of a single pebble was lost in the general noise of the excavation.

(sorry; not that easy! ;):P)

(I was afraid of that. :D Never hurts to try. What does Jeff see as he gets closer?

Also, maestro, if you could please cue the music. something along the lines of Stroke 9's "How many people want to kick some ass" )

As Jeff peeks around the corner into the new room, he can see no fewer than twenty people. It's a fairly large chamber, and they're spread out in groups of two or three. A couple, mostly the Iansisleans of the group, are holding guns and supervising the others. The rest are Gallagan, equiped with shovels, picks, and the like - the workforce, it would appear. Or at least some of it.

Nigel and the new man - a short, portly little man dressed like the others in bush equipment and a hardhat - are standing just around the corner; probably why Jeff was able to hear them.

On the far side of the room is a stone corridor, leading up to a large, stone slab. Bodies lay about it, and one very nervous Fred is standing in the center of a pile of parts and gore. The big Iansislean is standing well outside of a large, circular marking on the floor, casually cradling his rifle while he keeps an eye on Fred. Everything seems to be waiting for something - or someone.

("The big Iansislian"? Ooooooh! A challenge.. Let's see, will Jeff sneak away and get help or do what we all expect him to do? I thought so as well. Check your TG's before I continue.)

(Re: Big guy -- Well, there's no weird Nazi airplanes about, so you'll need a better plan than that! :P

Re: TG -- Checked and replied to!)

(And re-replied to ;)

there's not? Damn! ;) )

Jeff silently dropped down and pulled out the pistol from his cyberleg. The great thing about this, the Iansislians didn't think to check him before shooting him.

As he placed it in his hand the targeting sights came up in his vision and he set the crosshairs on Nigel's head before...

(you're up)

From down the hall behind him, Jeff suddenly heard the pounding of shoes on gravel. Someone was running very quickly towards the big room.

Inside, the Iansisleans didn't give a sign that they heard anything.

Shit!

Jeff slipped back into the shadows of the corridor to try and avoid being seen by the person behind him.

As he hit against the wall he grimaced and bit the inside of his cheek as the bullet still lodged in him shifted with the sudden movement.

A bare second or two after Jeff had hidden himself fully, another Iansislean came running around the corner. He skidded into the main room. "Mr. Leyland! Mr. Leyland!"

"What is it?" snapped Nigel. He didn't seem to be in a very good mood.

"Williams - he's not there!"

"What do you mean, Williams isn't there? Speak sense, man!"

"I mean that I checked the storage compartment, and his body was gone! And..."

"Someone probably just took it up to throw into the river," said Nigel, waving his hand. "Sheesh- I checked his pulse myself. Dead men don't walk!" (ooc: And they tell no tales :P)

"Do dead men kill? I found Dan, the back of his head split wide open, lying behind a package of crates in the same room!"

There was a brief second of silence. Then: "Ok, we'd better play this safe. Williams is dangerous. Sam - come over here. Take Bill and John and get Mr. Jorgens back to safety. Jack, Lenny, and I are going to go try and track down Williams. Frank - you and Pete watch over the workers until myself or Mr. Jorgens gets back. Everyone understand? Let's go!"

And they did just that.

(They walk back into the room to find Jeff holding a bazooka and pointing it at the door they wanted Fred to open, "I'm gonna blow up the Ark, Rene..." )

Jeff waited for the men to move out. After they left back above ground he picked up the pistol and drew back down the targeting sight on the first man, Frank. Aiming right between his eyes, Jeff squeezed the trigger and fired at him, then quickly drew the gun down on Pete and fired a second shot.

"What do you suppose this is all about, Pete?"

"Dunno, Frank. Keep an eye on those Gallers, though - there's a right lot of the buggers."

And then Jeff fired (ooc: missing both times :P) and suddenly, Frank couldn't keep an eye on anything, since his optical system was splattered, along with the rest of the matter that used to be in his head, against the wall. Pete didn't even have time to say a word before the aim shifted, and it was his turn to contribute to the room's body pile.

The Gallagans and Fred just stood in mute shock at the gun's report.

((ooc: I think it's bed time for me out here. Drat, another attempt to outlast you foiled! *shakes fist*))

(Nah, you beat me to it again, I'll win that title back soon, I think! ;) )

Jeff stepped out of the shadows after both men fell (and after Jeff kept shooting at them until he hit them ;) ), keeping his gun out in case any of the Gallagans decided to be any trouble, and trying to be as non-threatening as possible for a man with a gun.

"Fred," he said quietly, "Grab their guns, we're all getting outta here."

(Well, in that case - haha! ;))

Those few brief seconds of silence quickly gave in to the loud chatter of a dozen voices all trying to be heard at once, and most of them speaking in Marathi. Through the incredible din, Fred managed to drift his high-pitched voice over the top.

“What - you - dead!” he insisted, knees trembling as he picked his way out of the bloody corner. Just then, one of the younger Gallagans made a break for the door, with God knows what intention.

Jeff saw the man running for the door and pointed the pistol in the ground just in front of the man and pulled the trigger, trying to stop him from running any further. "Now sir, I don't want to have to kill you." (if he takes another step, Jeff's gonna blow his kneecaps off)

“What - you - dead!”

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Jeff said with a twinkle in his eyes.

The young Gallagan halted his process slightly at the sound of the gun's report. The others in the room, even if Jeff and Fred couldn't understand them, seemed to be calling him back.

And then, with a look of desperate confusion, he ran on.

Jeff's shot caught him on the back of his left knee, and the boy went down heavily, screaming at the top of his lungs. There was no chance of misunderstanding; it wasn't the sound of a spoken language, but rather the pure, animal scream of pain. Dark red blood oozed out onto his equally dark skin.

One of the older Gallagans cried out at the same time he heard Jeff's shot, and he started running towards the fallen boy.

Meanwhile Fred was wondering if all this noise hadn't alerted the entire mine to their presence.

((ooc: sorry it took me so long to reply to this, man. It's been a busy weekend, and I had to pick and choose what threads I could reply to. :( Hopefully, things'll calm down soon.

Speaking of which, did you see WoS' Empire Day thread? I think you may appreciate the end of the second post ;)))

(OOC: No worries man, I've been taking care of stuff too. Damn, I kinda feel bad about that Gallagan kid, Jeff'll need to get him surgery after this is over.)

Jeff was thinking the same thing and doubted all of the mining activity had drowned it out, "Come on Fred, we've gotta get the hell outta here! Shit, if one of us spoke Gallagan or if they spoke English, we could all get out."

Jeff tried to signal to the group to grab the kid and get the hell out of there with them, in between turning back to the tunnel and trying to zoom in with his optics to see how many people might be on the way back.

(*reads thread* Oh... My... God... ;) )

(*reads thread* Oh... My... God... ;) )

:lol: Isn't it great?

Afraid I just have a TG for you right now. ;)

(read and replied to. And at this rate y'all are gonna make it harder for him to keep clearing the bar ;) )

“Come on,” insisted Fred, waving his hands at the Gallagans. Most stood and stared at him; a few shouted in Marathi. They sounded angry.

The boy continued to scream and roll around on the ground while the older man, apparently of some relation to him, whispered in Marathi and tried to comfort him.

“Forget it,” muttered Fred. “Come on, Jeff!” He waved over his shoulder, then ran out the door, turned a corner - and stopped dead.

The only way between them and ... wherever the only tunnel led was blocked by a near solid wall of men. Men with guns, pointed right at Jeff and Fred.

“Well, well, Your Grace. It would appear I underestimated you slightly.” Nigel’s voice was cold and cruel. “Do be a good man and drop your gun. These rifles may not have as much effect on you as per my initial calculations, but they’d perform rather marvelously against your friend, don’t you think?”

Jeff listened to the angry shouts of the Gallagans.

So far today I've been shot and left for dead after getting in a plane wreck. They can bite me...

“Well, well, Your Grace. It would appear I underestimated you slightly.” Nigel’s voice was cold and cruel. “Do be a good man and drop your gun. These rifles may not have as much effect on you as per my initial calculations, but they’d perform rather marvelously against your friend, don’t you think?”

Jeff's first thought was to tell him to 'go ahead and shoot. What do I care?' but he knew that Nigel would call that bluff in a heartbeat.

"Yeah, I tend to enjoy being underestimated," Jeff said throwing down the gun in disgust and offering his hands out to be bound.

All I need is you to get close enough to pop out these blades and deal with you...

"Jack." It wasn't really an order, but one needn't be given. The big one, who apparently was known as Jack, moved forward to collect Jeff's guns and the ones that Fred had been carrying. He handed Jeff's 10mm to Nigel, who investigated it carefully.

"A splendid work of engineering, Your Grace. I do hope you won't mind if I keep it?" Nigel snorted. "No, I didn't think so.

"Jack," he continued, turning. "I was thinking that the little tagalong here was our perfect man for the job, but now we've someone even better. After all, if a bullet to the chest can't even slow him down, who is to say that a spear through the stomach will?"

"I must congratulate you, Your Grace," he said, turning to Jeff again. "You're going to be the one who finds a way to open that door for us."

Jeff chuckled as Jack looked him over. He looked Jack up and down before smirking and mouthing the words Three seconds to him.

"Find a way to open what door?" Jeff asked innocently before looking behind him, "Oh, that door. And if I don't?" he asked, knowing the answer to his question.

"Tut tut. I really would have expected better from the famous Jeff Williams. Why, if you don't -" he glanced at Fred. "- I'm afraid that we'll have to kill your friend. And in the process, shower you with enough bullets to make sure you stay dead this time."

((*yawn* Drat it all you win again! *shifty eyes* or do you?))

(yea! *does happy dance* :P )

"I see your point," Jeff said glancing over at Fred. "Well, I'd ask for your word on that, but I don't think I buy it. So let's get this over with."

Nigel gestured into the main room. The young Gallagan Jeff had shot was still lying on the ground, attended by most of his elders. However, the screaming had stopped at last, and only a soft whisper could be held. They were largely ignored by the Iansisleans.

Jack gestured at the door. “Well, go to it. All we’ve managed to figure out so far is not to pull that lever.” Jack indicated one of more than a dozen switches, turns, pulls, and the like.

((you can use your own reasoning for why the one Jeff pulls is the right one ;)))

Jeff walked over to the switches. He looked up and down the board. He decided the one marked with the skull and crossbones was not the one to pull.

"Just what exactly are we looking for," Jeff asked, "It might give me a clue which lever to pull."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, I can best answer that question." Jeff had only heard the voice before once, and only caught the briefest glimpse of the man it belonged to.

He definitely wasn’t Iansislean, at least not in origin. The man was tall - at least six foot three - with the blond hair and blue eyes most commonly associated with Noropians rather than Shieldians. Unlike the Noropians, who generally have very round, gentle features, the new man’s face was sharp and angled.

“Your Grace, my name is Jorgens. I’m here on an archeological expedition, though I fear security issues do force me to be somewhat...cautious?”

He waved a hand vaguely at the man holding a gun to Fred’s temple.

"Of course," Jeff said coolly, "Security issues... Well Mr. Jorgens, what are we looking for?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I think you need to, Your Grace," smiled Jorgens.

Behind him, the wounded Gallagan boy cried out in pain while one of the others tried to clean his wound. Jorgens grimaced, then raised his right hand.

Jeff heard a gun cock, one that was aimed right at the young Gallagans head.

"I recommend you expedite your choice, Your Grace," said Jorgens. "My patience is not indefatigable."

On the door, Jeff would notice three of the handles were different from the others. Most were straight, but these ones were curved and pointed, like the tusks of a Gallagan bull elephant. Two were right next to each other, like they might appear on an elephant; the other was by itself.

"I'll let you know as soon as I think you need to, Your Grace," smiled Jorgens.

"I'm sure you will," Jeff nodded as he looked at the panel and jacked up his nervous system boost, just in case he had to jump out of the way of a spear suddenly.

Behind him, the wounded Gallagan boy cried out in pain while one of the others tried to clean his wound. Jorgens grimaced, then raised his right hand.

Jeff heard a gun cock, one that was aimed right at the young Gallagans head.

"I recommend you expedite your choice, Your Grace," said Jorgens. "My patience is not indefatigable."

"Remember one thing," Jeff said resisting the urge to pop out the claws and gut Jorgens from crotch to throat, "Patience is a vitrue, and only the virtuous man shall pass ( :P ) through this day."

And if you pull that trigger on him, I'm still fast enough to grab you and take you to hell with me before your goons get a shot off...

On the door, Jeff would notice three of the handles were different from the others. Most were straight, but these ones were curved and pointed, like the tusks of a Gallagan bull elephant. Two were right next to each other, like they might appear on an elephant; the other was by itself.

Jeff knelt to examine the door, zooming in when he could and running the different views to find any clues, or spear holes. He hoped that the Gallagans, or whatever set up this door, had a special affinity for animals, elephants in particular, and would have set up the door accordingly.

If the elephant was indeed some kind of totem animal, then the safest bet would be that they would trust it to guard whatever was behind the door. He looked at the lone lever again.

If they wanted its protection, they wouldn't have shied away from it, they would move closer to it.

Jeff decided it was time to take the bull (elephant) by the horns, but which one. If they didn't want it to harm them, they'd have a failsafe. He reached out as slowly as he could, which with the nervous system augmented still looked very fast to Jorgens, and grabbed both tusk levers, slamming them down at the same time.

(how's that for justification? ;) )

((Alas! “He chose...poorly.” :P))

“How delightfully poetic,” replied Jorgens dryly.

As Jeff pulled down on the double levers, there was a quiet, inaudible to most of the people in the room, click. A split second later, a hatch near the top of the door clicked open, and an immense pile of rubble came pouring downwards.

Right at Jeff.

(Wow, just like in the Bible According to Jeff... "And the levers clicked into place, and the stones began to fall and a great voice cried out from the heavens....


... 'D'oh!!!!'" Well that's what I get for not checking into that beforehand. ;) )

This is bad! This is gonna hurt...

Jeff fell back towards the ground, tucking his legs into his chest and rolling back into a handstand before pushing back off of the ground and trying to spring back.

(How many rocks and how big are we talking? I need to figure out how many of these hit him :P )

(Wow, just like in the Bible According to Jeff... ) :lol:

Man, you're making me feel bad! I ignore this for three days, and then you reply in about three seconds! Oh, and don't worry about it - I probably should have told you what I was playing at in a telegram :oops: )

Jeff could hear the starts of some warning shouts behind him. Not that they were in time to do any good whatsoever.

(Fairly decent sized, but not boulders. Say a little bigger than an average brick, and quite a few of them.)

(Nah, don't worry about it, I was off most of this week anyway studying for midterms, you just got me at a good time, back from walking the dog.)

The rocks slammed into Jeff as he rolled and sprang back, giving a new definition to 'that's gonna leave a mark". One of them slammed into his splintered sternum and he gritted back a scream.

Ow! Damnit!! Motherf-----er!!! Shit! Arghre!

Jeff landed uneasily on his feet as the shouts came from the others.

"Whoa... wrong one."

At least Fred seemed concerned about Jeff, shouting a generic and probably quite redundant "are you all right?" at his companion.

Jorgens and Leyland seemed more concerned about the state of the door.

"Damn...that's going to take some time to clean up," was Nigel's comment. "It'll be some time, Mr. Jorgens, if you want to head back." He turned and shouted some orders at the crowd of Gallagans.

"No, thank you Mr. Leyland," was the reply. "I'm actually rather curious as to the state of our intrepid explorer here." He smiled sadistically at Jeff. “I must admit, Your Grace, I am rather curious as to how you managed to avoid the bulk of that rubble. I was watching the whole time, but you started moving before I was even clued in to what was happening.”

Jorgens was keeping his distance a little farther than before since he had seen how quickly Jeff moved. In fact, the tall man had to shout slightly just to make his voice heard across the distance between them.

Jeff nodded at Fred with a small grin, "Yeah, I'm OK. Nothing a few weeks on the beach won't take care of."

Jeff then flashed an evil grin to Jorgens, "Oh you'll find I'm full of surprises. But that we can rack up to me being lucky."

Jeff judged the distance between Jorgens and himself, wisely keeping the blades retracted... Too far for now, just get closer little man and you're ass is mine...

"So now you want to try this again after it gets cleared up?"

“That was my intention,” called Jorgens. He was already feeling uncomfortable; this whole shouting thing was very awkward and undignified. “I would rehash the old cliché about the infinite number of monkeys and their typewriters, but I’m sure you get the picture.”

He gestured at the pile of rubble and the workers who had already made a good-sized dent in it. “There can only be so many booby traps on that darn thing, anyhow.”

He removed a pocket watch, checked the time, then replaced it. “I do wonder, Your Grace, about that luck you just mentioned. I am only familiar with the stories in the papers, but I have to confess I’m rather curious. In fact, it seems like you’ve been extraordinarily lucky several times in the past - with Archduke Sentry Island, in Effit, in Ryansisle, against a dragon.

“I don’t gamble, Your Grace, because I know all good luck eventually runs out -- except, apparently, in your case. I do wonder, however, if there might be more to the story than the papers put out. After all, everyone would love to weigh the dice.”

“That was my intention,” called Jorgens. He was already feeling uncomfortable; this whole shouting thing was very awkward and undignified. “I would rehash the old cliché about the infinite number of monkeys and their typewriters, but I’m sure you get the picture.”

Jeff groaned as he wondered how much more he could take, "Oh god, I was afraid you were going to say that..." he said to himself.

He removed a pocket watch, checked the time, then replaced it. “I do wonder, Your Grace, about that luck you just mentioned. I am only familiar with the stories in the papers, but I have to confess I’m rather curious. In fact, it seems like you’ve been extraordinarily lucky several times in the past - with Archduke Sentry Island, in Effit, in Ryansisle, against a dragon.

"I chalk it up to good, clean living and a happy life," Jeff replied, half-jokingly.

And stacking the deck in your favor...

“I don’t gamble, Your Grace, because I know all good luck eventually runs out -- except, apparently, in your case. I do wonder, however, if there might be more to the story than the papers put out. After all, everyone would love to weigh the dice.”

"Well, what those stories tended to leave out are the bad luck that happened just before hand, and how much help I really had. I mean, assassins, being kidnapped and sold, being chased by vampires. Plus with the dragon, don't forget there were a lot of others that took some part in that.

"But the Archduke of Sentry Island, that was different. I wanted them to capture me (heh heh, the truth comes out at last :P ), he was playing right into my hands, all I wanted to do was wrap my hands around his throat before I'd died."

... all I wanted to do was wrap my hands around his throat before I'd died."

Perhaps unconsciously, Jorgens took another step backwards. “I see.” He didn’t say anything else, and an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sounds of rocks bouncing off one another ensued.

At last, the Gallagans cleared the area before the door. “Fancy giving it another go, Your Grace?”

Perhaps unconsciously, Jorgens took another step backwards. “I see.” He didn’t say anything else, and an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sounds of rocks bouncing off one another ensued.

At last, the Gallagans cleared the area before the door. “Fancy giving it another go, Your Grace?”

Jeff kept his eyes locked with Jorgens, he was starting to get into the man's mind and he knew it. "It's amazing what one can do when you hurt the ones he loves," he said.

At Jorgens question he shrugged, "Sure, since I'm guessing you're not going to let Fred and I waltz out of here. Any chance I can get some water before I go on?"

That gave Jorgens pause. He couldn't think of a single way Jeff might be trying to trick him with so simple a request, but he wasn't inclined to be too contrary. At last he shrugged. "Nigel, give the man a glass of water."

Leyland didn't look too happy about the situation, but he reached backwards and filled up a paper cup from a crude water container. Jeff could just about see the microbes swimming about in it.

Jeff looked at the cup of water and hoped that the nanites Niven had given him hadn't stopped working yet.

"Well, to your health, gents," he said drinking the water in one gulp.

He turned back to the door and tried to fire up the boost again, he could almost feel the nerves start to smoke inside him. He reached out and pulled the other lever.

"To the door opening," replied Jorgens as Jeff pulled the lever.

Once again, there was a faint click, then the sound of some sort of chain being pulled. Then a much smaller door - only about three feet high, but nearly as thick - on the bottom left swung slowly open. There was no light inside, but it was obvious that the new hatch opened into a much larger area.

"Well, nothing fell on me this time," Jeff said to himself as he looked into the next room through the small opening. He clicked on his low-light optics to look through the room.

(Please don't let there be a hissing... ;) )

((ooc: There was a loud hissing... :P))

The next room was a long, dark hallway carved from the living rock. It was dark and damp, but Jeff couldn't detect any sort of noxious fumes.

"After you, Your Grace," said Jorgens with a smile.

(ooooh! How close is Jorgens to him? :twisted: )

"Uhhh, yeah," Jeff said entering the hallway and checking from side to side for tripwires or other traps.

((Uh oh! I'm being asked to confirm hard numbers, and in combination with an evil smile face, nonetheless! Something's about to go down! ;)

Uh, right - call it a few yards. I suppose; does that seem right?))

Amazingly, after the door from hell, Jeff couldn't find much in the way of traps.

A singled, tattered piece of cloth hung on the far end of the hall as big Jack climbed through the door after Jeff.

(big Jack eh?)


Jeff walked down the hallway towards the tattered cloth. He looked around it, scanning in to not get too close and checked what it was hanging on, if there was anything attached to it, stuff like that.

He looked beyond it to see if there were any doors leading out.

(darn forums..*shakes fist*)

Jeff couldn't discern any sort of danger. The cloth was hanging over a small alcove, and appeared to be supported by being wrapped around a pole of some sort. It was obviously the worse off for wear.

There were no other exits in the room. Inside the alcove sat a simple black box on an undecorated pedistal.

Jack stepped to one side as Jorgens came through, his excitment getting the better of his caution. "At last! At last!" the explorer was saying, almost dancing with joy.

Jeff ignored Jorgens and Jack, reached out and pulled the cloth to one side...

(and behind curtain #1 is....)

It was rather anti-climatic. Just a simple black box on the pedistal. Jorgens, ignoring all his common sense, ran up and bumped Jeff to one side.

"At last!" he kept repeating, "After so long, I have the disk!"

He danced about, not noticing in his joy that he had knocked the rod holding the curtain from its notch.

The small but heavy door shut behind them.

( :shock: )

Jeff tried to race over to stop the door but never got more than halfway across the hallway before it slammed shut.

He stood there, shook his head a moment and thought of his luck.

It's just me, these two, and my blades... Hmmmm... he thought, trying to resist the temptation.

(and I'm outta here for the night man, see you tomorrow!)

"What happened?! What did you do?" asked Jorgens sharply, glaring at Jeff.

On the other side of the wall, Nigel and one of his helpers were knocking. Nigel pulled down on the lever Jeff had tried, but now nothing happened.

"It must have changed," grumbled Nigel, looking up and down the row of switches.

('night, dude!)

Jeff's eyes blazed back at Jorgens.

"What did I do? You ran in here knocking crap around in your greed to get this, and you're asking me what I did? To answer your question, I got you into this little room, that's all I did!" He fumed back.

"And now, you're going to get us out of here."

“ME!?” half screamed Jorgens. “I’m sure you just pulled the wrong lever or something - made us think it had opened, only to have it close behind us!”

Apparently, Mr. Jorgens had never heard of Occam’s Razor.

Jack, in the meantime, had been trying to solve the problem in the only way he knew: the raw application of brute force.

“I don’t think it’s going to move,” he panted at last, slumping down against the door.

A dull knocking could be heard through the stone, but it was far too thick for any sort of effective communication.

(Occam.. heh heh, Jeff's more of a Mach 3 Turbo man himself :P )

"Me? Listen slappy. What did you knock down around here to set off a trap or something?"

Jeff watched as Jack slumped against the wall. Keep going, just a little more now...

(Occam.. heh heh, Jeff's more of a Mach 3 Turbo man himself :P )

(Darn you! Do you know how hard Dr Pepper is to clean off a computer monitor? :lol: )

"Listen, you idiot! I don't know about you, but I rather would like to get out of this place!" shouted Jorgens, still clutching the black box tightly to his chest. "If you have any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them - unless you plan on spending the rest of your life trapped in this hole!"

The tapping on the other side had stopped.

(heh heh, I aim to please ;) )

"Patience, patience. I'm sure I'll think of something eventually," Jeff said stifling another grin. "Can't you do something useful? Like helping Jack lift the door?"

(What kind of lights do they have in the room?)

Jeff walked around, picking up an errand rod and cloth that someone had knocked on the floor as he paced.

(oops..hadn’t given much thought to that, I have to admit! Call it those miner’s headlamps?)

“Perhaps I I wasn’t so...” started Jorgens, before drawing himself up sharp. “Wait a moment!”

(oops..hadn’t given much thought to that, I have to admit! Call it those miner’s headlamps?)

“Perhaps I I wasn’t so...” started Jorgens, before drawing himself up sharp. “Wait a moment!”

Jeff looked at Jorgens like he hadn't been paying attention to him. "I'm sorry, I really wasn't listening to what you were saying, what were blathering on about?"

Jorgens' exasperated look was music to Jeff eyes.

"Come on, you don't want to be here all day do you? Get a move on," Jeff said as he placed the rod back into place.

((there's no post here..what're you talking about, silly person?))

Nothing happened as Jeff stuck the rod back in.

"That's not what I mean, you idiot!" glowered Jorgens, thrusting the box in Jeff's direction. "the disk, man! It can get us out of here."

He turned and waved at Jack. "Get out of the way!"

(I thought it might not work, I was just using the time for Jeff to berate Jorgens a little bit ;) )

"Well let's get on with it then," Jeff said to Jorgens.

"'Get on with it,' he say!" snorted Jorgens. "My dear friend, the disk is a powerful but unknown weapon! One does not simply 'get on with it'! He'd be apt to lose a leg, if not his head!"

(A powerful weapon? You wouldn't... you would.. give Jeff a moral debate at this point. Does he let the guy with the disk leave with it, or does he kill him in the chamber...)

"Oh really? What kind of weapon is it?"

"I ... don't really know," admitted Jorgens. "It's supposed to be thrown like a discus, but I've no idea what'll happen if we use the thing."

He shrugged. "I'm up for taking a chance if you are."

"Well," Jeff shrugged, "I'm not finding another way out of here, so I'm game for it if you are.

"Wait a sec, before you throw it, what do you know about it? Why is it so important you're tunneling into Gallaga to get it?"

"Let's call it the love of the unknown, Your Grace," smiled Jorgens. "I've always thought that had a nice ring to it."

As he removed the disk from its disk, Jack couldn't help but be unimpressed. It was a simple black ring, not even a proper disk, with a diameter of about two feet and enclosed by a circling cylinder about an inch thick.

“That’s going to get us out of here?” asked Jack skeptically. “It looks like I could crush it with one hand.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try,” snorted Jorgens. “Now, I’d recommend you stand back.”

“Hmph.” Jack didn’t seem very impressed, but he shuffled off until his back was against the far wall from the door, next to the curtain.

Jeff stood back from the door, "All right then. Here goes nothing."

Jorgens grasped the 'disk' with one hand, reared it back over his shoulder, then let it fly.

As it whistled along the long, narrow room, the disk suddenly started to glow a fire red. Sparks of electricity first, then long tongues of flame crackled from one side of the disk to the other, giving it the appearance of a great ball of fire (goodness gracious! :P)

The ball impacted with the smaller door. There was a bright flash, and the door simply vanished.

Its earlier brilliance gone, the disk returned simply to Jorgen's hand.

(Oh you didn't.. you didn't.... :lol:

So it's kinda like the disks from TRON then...)

Jeff's vision came back after the brilliant flash.

"Good god!" he said quietly, "That's quite impressive."

((I did :P. Watcha gonna do, chuck a watermelon? ;)))

Jorgens looked just as shocked as Jeff did. "Indeed...I have to admit, that wasn't quite the result I was expecting...

"But impressive nonetheless, wouldn't you say?" Jorgens led the crawl back out of the tunnel.

"What the hell happened?" was Nigel's first question.

(Nah, thought I'd chuck something a little more New Mexican at you, *gets a barrel of mashed up green chiles..* :P )

"Yes, quite impressive," Jeff nodded to Jorgens. "A man wielding that would be damn near invincible, as long as he had some kind of armor."

Jeff looked at Nigel as he walked over. "Well... we found it."

"Indeed I did," retorted Jorgens, walking over to stand beside Nigel. "Mr. Leyland, if it pleases you, could you take out the garbage?"

"With pleasure," grinned Nigel, leveling his sidearm at Jeff. The few henchmen scattered about the room grinned in anticipation.

(ooooooh! I knew Jeff shoulda killed them in the chamber... how far away is Nigel?)

((ooc: as close as you want. I officially declare this 'Larkinia's Action Scene!™' with all the character-use rights implied therein ;)))

(ohhhhhh..... yeah......

:twisted:

Jeff to Nigel, "In the famous words of Mike Tyson, "White boy I'm gonna f--- you up." ;) )

"You forgot one thing Mr. Jorgens," Jeff said, grinning at Nigel, "You boys can't hit what you can't see. Fred, drop!"

Jeff kicked in his next to last neural boost of the day and dove forward, rolling at Nigel and springing up, slamming the blades out of his arms into Nigel's ribcage and pulled up hard. He slipped under Nigel's arm and grabbed the gun from his hand. Using Nigel as a bodyshield, he spun around with the gun and fired two shots at Jorgens, one at the disk in his hand and another at his knee, before turning and firing the gun at the other men. As he fired at them, he moved over to the disk to pick it up.

When the last bullet rang out, he picked up Nigel's body and threw it at Jack to slow him down.

(Before I go on how many are left?)

"Drop?" Fred just had time to ask before Jeff flew into Nigel. Fortunately for the less-than-quick-witted aviator, the man covering him had been suitably distracted by the events unfolding and didn't have time to perform his duty.

As Fred and the Gallagans flung themselves prone, the disk skittered away from Jorgens' suddenly non-existant right hand. He collapsed in pain, his knee also transforming itself into a mangled pile of red flesh, but still grasped after the disk.

Towards the back of the room, the man assigned to cover the wounded Gallagan squeezed his trigger, more from instinct than any premeditated malace. The heavy .45 round of his pistol shattered the boy's face at such close range, blowing large chunks of flesh and skull all over.

The other four Iansisleans in the room weren't quite sure how to react as their boss's body flopped around on the ground.

(damnit, that poor kid... well, like the saying goes, ya gotta break some eggs...)

Jeff picked up the disk and the nearest pistol to him. As he grabbed the gun in his hand, the sudden appearance of a targeting sight in his field of vision told him who's gun it was.

"Drop them," Jeff said as he leveled the gun at the four men, aiming between the eyes of the one who'd shot the youth and squeezing his trigger to make his point clear. "Do it now or you're next."

It had all happened so quickly; none of the rest could quite decide what to do.

The sight of Frank's body falling to the floor, sans a head, made up their minds. Three of them dropped their weapons and threw up their hands; the other raised his gun in desperation. He pulled the trigger too soon, and the first shot careened into the dirt a good ten feet in front of Jeff.

Meanwhile, Jack had thrown off Nigel's corpse, and hurled himself at Jeff's side.

Cool story. TAGGED.

(Thanks Aanmericaa!)

Jeff stepped back as the bullet piffed into the dirt in front of him. He drew up quickly and pulled the trigger at the man before Jack tackled Jeff.

"Fred, get their guns! *oof!* " Jeff said as he was hit.

Jeff and jack tumbled to the ground together. Jeff used Jack's momentum to roll back and judo flip him over. The disk almost slipped out of his hand, so Jeff tightened his grip around the disk so hard he felt it cut into his hand.

Jeff pushed himself up off of the ground, laid another kick into Jorgens' side as he tried to crawl over, then flashed the blades out of his left arm again as he slipped the disk into his jacket.

"Me and you got some unfinished business, bub."

Then from behind the flashing blades, Jeff pulled the gun out of his jacket and fired into Jack. (ala Raiders and the guy with the sword)

(*snip, damn computer* )

Cool story. TAGGED.

((ooc: hey, thanks! Always nice to know we have readers! ;)))

As Jeff's emotions peaked, he could feel the disk starting to grow hotter in his hand.

Meanwhile, Fred had picked himself up from the ground and was picking his way towards where the assortment of guns lay on the ground. He had just reached one when Jack slammed into Jeff.

Without waiting for the outcome, its owner snatched up the weapon and swung it over in Fred's direction. In a near panic, he dropped down, grabbing the guy's legs. The gun fired once - into the ceiling - before both men went down in a pile. Fred punched the man in the stomach, then relieved him of the weapon while he lay gasping.

Just in time to see that another had recovered his weapon and was swinging it over. Without thinking, he brought the gun up and pulled the trigger, catching the man right in the gut. Dark blood poured out onto the sandy ground, accompanied by an almost unearthly scream.

Jack just died, a hole straight through the center of his chest.

((ooc: Tell me about it, Lark! I've had nothing but trouble trying to get this up!))

Jeff winced as the disk got hotter, hoping his jacket would abate some of the heat as he fired at Jack. Jeff's rage had almost consumed him at this point.

No it wasn't fair, and he knew it wasn't right, but he'd had enough and someone (or ones) was/were gonna pay. He squeezed the trigger, watched Jack fall and turned his gun on (quick count) the last man standing.

"What's it gonna be man?"

The last man, who had been reaching for his gun, wasted no time in shoving his hands into the air.

Meanwhile, Fred had dropped his gun and was recoiling in horror from the man he'd shot. By now, the luckless would-be gunman was doubled over, blood still pouring from his stomach wound, though he seemed to be coughing up nearly as much.

The man Fred had punched saw the opening, and started to slide his hand over to the gun Fred had dropped.

"Bad idea man. Fred, get the gun and get outta the way."

Jeff fired the gun at the man's hand, not trying to hit it but get him to see the wisdom in pulling back.

"Now gents, what are we going to do with you? I think we need to turn you over to the village elders, since you did apparently take over their village for this little plundering expedition."

Fred couldn't seem to move as the man he shot collapsed and was silent at last. His teeth were chattering and his eyes wide. Fred didn't even reach for the gun.

Fortunately - for him, perhaps - the man on the ground saw the wisdom in retracting his hand.

Meanwhile the Gallagans were getting up, one by one. They looked from Jeff to the dead bodies and Jorgens' twisting form, and back to Jeff, but said nothing save in their own tongue.

Jeff finally noticed the Gallagans getting up and talking, "You guys get outta here!" he said, pointing to the hallway for the Gallagans, "Fred, get them out."

"I...I killed him..." stammered Fred, slowly backing away from the corpse. "H-he's dead!"

The Gallagans, on the other hand, needed no second instruction. They stampeded through the exit and upwards.

"Yeah, I know Fred. It's hard on you. It's not right, but sometimes you have to kill or be killed." Jeff said quietly. "Get topside Fred, I'll take care of down here."

(and I'm out dude! g'Night!)

((night, Lark!))

Fred didn't look like he wanted to believe Jeff, but he slowly picked himself up and stumbled up the path after the workers.

Jorgens was still cursing under his breath and writhing in pain. "So, now - dammit - what, Your Grace?" he managed through gritted teeth.

Jeff shrugged, "I dunno, I'm making this up as I go." He motioned with his gun to the last man still standing, "Get on the ground."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the disk, "I asked you once, and I'm gonna ask again. What is this thing and what does it do?"

The other man lowered himself down without hesitation. Jorgens seemed a little less in a mood to cooperate.

"Go to hell," he replied.

((TG Lark...well, not right now, but in a couple minutes ;)))

(read and replied to)

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm going to hell. But you'll be there waiting for me."

There was a sudden flash of intense, hot pain inside Jeff's jacket. Before now, the heat had been building up slowly, but now it was as if a star were going supernova right next to his chest.

Looking down, he'd notice a bright, flashing light inside the jacket.

(Wow! Talk about getting all hot and bothered!)

Jeff pulled out the disk, it was glowing incredibly bright. He winced in pain as he held the disk and dropped to one knee as he tried to hold onto it.

Which was just the oppertunity Jorgens had been waiting for. With his good left hand, he reached out and grabbed onto the disk.

"It's mine!" he shouted, the energy of the ring seeming to give him extra strength. He brought his leg - the one with all parts intact - kicking at Jeff even as smoke started rising from where he was grabbing the ring.

Suddenly, the ground started growling and shifting around them. A large rock seperated from the ceiling and went crashing onto Jack's body.

Jeff gritted his teeth as Jorgens' kicks flew into him. He pulled back and swung at Jorgens with the butt of the pistol. The shaking of the ground threw Jeff back, unable to hold onto the disk any longer.

The disk, just before Jeff lost his grip, surged brightly. Even Jorgens screamed and rolled away from it. The disk fell onto the ground with a dull thud and lay there.

Jorgens, his sudden burst of strength apparently expended, lay on the ground twitching.

Another deep rumble shook the caverns.

Jeff looked at Jorgens, then the disk, then back to Jorgens again.

Shit. I can't believe I'm gonna do this.

Jeff picked up Jorgens with one arm and threw him over his shoulder as he ran back up the collapsing tunnel.

OOC: dude, I think your post vanished! :? that's interesting..

The pace of the rumbling increased as Jeff pounded his way from the cave. Every now and then, a support would collapse and send a shower of rubble towards him, but Jeff's enhanced senses and reflexes carried him through.

Jorgens was worse than no help; he kept trying to break free and alternated between screaming and mumbling incoherently.

At last, Jeff broke through the final barrier and into the bright glare of a Gallagan noon.

EDIT: tell me about it! I didn't delete it or anything...I don't think ;). Bloody forum!

(What's the second verse to that "I hate the forums" song? ;) )

"Some help you are," Jeff said to Jorgens as they ran through the collapsing tunnel, "Remind me to tell that to whoever I turn your ass over to..."

Jeff sprinted into the sunlight just as the tunnel finally collapsed behind him. (what?? No giant boulder?? :P )

He squinted until his eyesight adjusted to the bright light and he looked around.

("Ahhhh... Venice.. ")

(what?? No giant boulder?? :P )

(I'm trying to keep my Raiders ripoffs to an absolute minimum ;))

"You made it!" exclaimed Fred as Jeff emerged. "Eh? Why'd you save him?"

Strangely, Fred didn't run over.

(that's cool, cause I seem to be ripping off all three movies. :lol: )

Jeff squinted before speaking, "Cause he's still a human being Fred. Besides, he needs to be turned over to the authorities for what he's done. Either the Village elders, or the nearest.. well.. whoever is ruling this part of Gallaga."

Jeff quickly looked around after noticing Fred wasn't moving.

(And the number of guns/spears/arrows/rockets/big vorpal bunnies was...?)

"I'm pretty sure we're in the Confederacy," said Fred, who still sounded awful nervous. "But somehow, I think we'll be reporting to the village elders."

Jeff hadn't noticed the Gallagans at first; then, suddenly, they were all about. They must have hidden in the surrounding jungles. They were armed with various sorts of weapons stolen from the battle at the dig, and not a one had a friendly expression on.

One stepped forward and called something in Marathi, waving his hands towards the valley's exit.

Jeff looked around at the various Gallagans, "I don't suppose you still have that translation book do you Fred? Oh well, their message is pretty clear. Looks like they want us to get the hell outta here."

Jeff looked at the Gallagans and pointed to Jorgens and then them. "Elders? anyone... anyone?" (Bueller... Bueller...)

"The disk!" exclaimed Jorgens suddenly. He wrenched free of Jeff with an amazing strength, and dove back for the collapsed enterance.

Jorgens had barely started scratching at the mass of rock when a shot rang out and he slumped down, blood trickling from his back.

The man with the smoking gun deftly worked the bolt action, and then used it to signal Jeff and Fred back towards the village.

"The disk!" exclaimed Jorgens suddenly. He wrenched free of Jeff with an amazing strength, and dove back for the collapsed enterance.

Jorgens had barely started scratching at the mass of rock when a shot rang out and he slumped down, blood trickling from his back.

The man with the smoking gun deftly worked the bolt action, and then used it to signal Jeff and Fred back towards the village.

Jeff tried to stop Jorgens but was halted by the shot ringing out. He looked back at the man with the rifle.

Crap.. next time just write a damn memo to Tarriff....

He and Fred started walking back towards the village.

The village seemed more...populated than the last time Fred and Jeff had stopped there.

They were led to a hut and sat down there. A stone faced Gallagan, the modern Iansislean rifle he held casually pointed downwards, stood watch over them.

After about ten minutes, a wizened old man stooped under the hut's door and bowed shortly.

"English? o Italiano?"

"English," Jeff said relieved a little, "Yes, we speak English."

"English, then," he said. There was a brief pause.

"Why are you here?"

Perhaps somewhat to their surprise, he spoke very clear English; with even something of an East Shieldian accent.

"Well, that's a good question. My first thought is, 'fate'. We were flying from Ianapalis on a fact finding mission for parliament when our plane started falling apart. We crashed not far from here and started looking for a place to stay and possibly radio for help.

"We stumbled across someone from this village who, I guess, had been sent by one of the lackeys of that man that was shot. Why he sent someone, I'm not sure. Then we either passed out or were drugged and woke up in one of the rooms off of that tunnel.

"Then I was shot and left for dead and Jorgens, the man that was shot and his pal Nigel, took Fred and were going to use him to try and find the traps to open the door to some artifact he appeared to be obsessed with."

"The disk," said the old man shortly. "Yes, I know of such a thing, and what its power can do to the minds of even stalwart men.

"You spoke of parliament; I assume, given your starting location and language choise, that you mean the Commonwealth Combined Parliament of Iansisle." He snorted.

"A fact-finding mission, did you call it? In Indore, no? So the Maratha Game has restarted in earnest?" The old man's voice became suddenly biting and direct.

"I.. yeah, the Commonwealth Combined Parliament," Jeff said, "They're the ones who sent me.

"The... Maratha game? What do you mean by that, sir?"

"Come now," smiled the old man. "I have lived on the Shield; I have studied at Royal Standard University itself. Do not presume to tell me you have no idea what the Maratha Game is.

"Should it humor you to hear familiar facts recited, however, I shall play your game. The 'Maratha Game' - as it was so coyly dubbed by the great Iansislean press - is the great cold conflict of our age.

"It is played out across what was once a great state by cold, calculating imperial powers; it is the manipulation of the Marathi state by white men, such as yourself, too obsessed with their own greed and self-promotion to care about the people trampled underfoot." The man's voice was cold and hard as steel.

"We received a merciful break with the coming of the war, but now, with the destruction of Ercolana, I fear it may be worse than ever."

((a map of Gallaga (http://www.villagephotos.com/viewpubimage.asp?id_=8112468) - Ercolanian Gallaga is now managed jointly by the victorious allies)

"Sir, I apologize for my ignorance, I have not lived in Iansisle for very long," Jeff said quietly, "And was unfamiliar with what you spoke of."

He listened through the rest of the man's statements, "So now that the great war is over, you are afraid that these powers will turn their eyes back to Gallaga?"

"You have not lived long in Iansisle? Perhaps, then, you're a Gallagan like me?" The man's voice was mocking in tone.

"Now see here!" said Fred sharply. "This man - this sahib - is to be respected! He's the Duke of Williams, a personal friend of His Majesty the High King himself!"

"Do not presume to lecture me on proper respect," snapped the older man. "And I'm sure your friend can speak for himself."

Jeff put his hand on Fred's shoulder, "It's all right Fred. When you're a stranger in someone else's land, respect has to be earned all over again. I can't demand it."

Jeff and Fred sat back down, "No sir, I am not a Gallagan, and I am also not an Iansislian, well.. not a full Iansislian. I've been 'adopted' by them," he continued. "As you can tell I am still playing 'catch-up' on my Iansislian history."

"I have heard of you, as a matter of fact," said the old man. "Mostly on my occasional trips to Nusheld or Ianapalis. I always thought, however, Mr. Williams -"

"Your Grace," retorted Fred through gritted teeth.

"Mr. Williams, I always thought you were solidly in Hiresh Dhawan's corner. I wonder what would drive you, then, to accept a 'fact-finding' mission to undermine all that he's worked so very hard for."

"Well, I didn't really accept it as much as get ordered to go. And I wasn't really told what to look for," Jeff replied. "So here I am. And I'm not trying to take sides, I want to work towards a compromise between the dueling sides. Unfortunately, they don't want to work toward that goal."

"Work for peace? There's something I'm sure neither Nusheld nor Gasgage has ever thought about."

He waved his hand. "I'm sorry about how roughly my compatriots were forced to treat you. After our experiance with Mr. Jorgens and his expedition, we dared not take any chances."

Slowly, the old man stood. "I dare say you'd like to find yourself in 'civilization' again?"

"You're apology is greatly accepted," Jeff said with a smile, "although I can understand your concern after Jorgens and his crew here.

"And, each person has a different definition of 'civilization', but yeah I think I'd like to be able to call my family and let them know I'm all right," Jeff said. "Say, how long were Fred and I out anyway?" (X days?)

"Soon, soon. We shall be packing an expedition to Indore ourselves, to tell the Maharana what has happened here, and you would be welcome to tag along.

"In Indore, you may contact the Iansislean Embassy and be packed on your way back to the Shield."

He sat back down slowly. "In the mean time, my sources have informed me that you found the disk. Where is it?"

"Thank you, we appreciate that."

Jeff then pointed back to the collapsed tunnel. "It's under the rubble, back at the opening of the chamber. Neither Jorgens nor I were able to hold onto it, it was blazing hot. And to be honest, I didn't want to hold onto it. It just felt, wrong. Like something that shouldn't be found. As I got more angry, it got hotter."

"Buried. Yes, yes; that is for the best.

"I have heard much about the disk; about it's power, mainly. But I remain convinced that the disk is a force of evil only, never good.

"Mr. Jorgens never saw fit to let us know why he sought the disk. Fortune and glory, I suppose." (:P)

(*stares glassy eyed into the sky* "Fortune and glory..." ;) )

"Possibly. With Jorgens, it might have been as much about power. It struck me, well.. not really struck me, that'd be a big problem, but struck me as something very powerful. Something that a lot of people would like to get their hands on, and something that needs to remain hidden."

(check your TG's)

(*stares glassy eyed into the sky* "Fortune and glory..." ;) )

"Possibly. With Jorgens, it might have been as much about power. It struck me, well.. not really struck me, that'd be a big problem, but struck me as something very powerful. Something that a lot of people would like to get their hands on, and something that needs to remain hidden."

(check your TG's)

"Yes, I'm glad you understand that. Er, I suppose you understand, then, when I ask you not to talk about what you saw with regard to the disk?"

"What about me?" asked Fred irratably. He was starting to get sick of always being in Jeff's shadow again. "What if I want some of that damn fortune and glory?"

"Then it will destroy you, just as it destroyed Jorgens and just as it will destroy all weaklings who cannot fathom its power," said the old man sharply.

EDIT: checked/replied to ;)

"There are other ways of getting fortune and glory," Jeff said to Fred with a smile, "they're not easy, but they are worth it. Come on Fred, let's get some rest and plan how we'll pass the time before getting to Indore."

(Gotcha, g'night then man!)

A few days later, ten villagers and an elephant, led by the old man's son, departed for Indore. They met no serious problems and soon arrived in the capital city of the Confederacy.

"I go to the Rajwada, to talk to the Maharana," said the son simply in his broken English. "You go to Iansislean embassy. That way." He pointed down one of the streets.

"Thanks again sir, we really appreciate what you've done for us." Jeff turned to Fred, "Come on Fred," he said with a smile, "I'll buy you dinner on the way to the Embassy."

The two men walked down the street and Jeff picked up two kabobs from a vendor for each of them.

"That was an interesting trip, we need to do that again sometime," Jeff said as they approached the Embassy.

Jeff's only reply from the son was a curt bow.

Fred accepted the food readily. The Confederacy wasn't known for its quality control standards, but there shouldn't be too many problems between Jeff's nanites and Fred's iron constitution.

The Embassy was a newer building, built in what had been the latest Iansislean style a hundred years ago. The massive building was clearly built to impress, from the iron gates to the imposing brick façade. Indeed, in the almost medieval city, the Embassy was positively modern.

The guard on the door recognized Jeff's face at once. He stiffined. "Y-your Grace?!"

"Mmmmm," Jeff said in between bites. "This is... an interesting taste!"

Jeff looked at Fred as they walked up to the gates, "Damn, this is a nice building!"

He looked around at the guard's statement. "Where?? I'm gonna kick his ass!," he winked.

"Anything's great after that slop they were trying to push on us," smiled Fred, tearing into the questionable meat.

"They said you were dead, Your Grace!" insisted the guard in a gross breach of protocol.

"Yeah, guys like us seem to get that a lot," Jeff said with a smile to to the guard and a wink to Fred. "So we're dead huh? Did we get a nice funeral?"

"Well, you were only gone a couple of weeks," said the guard. "I mean, I heard a lot of noise about a state funeral from back on the Shield, after they found your crash site, but.." He trailed off.

"Of course you're here to see the Ambassador! But, ah, I'll have to call the Major over first." The guard seemed almost apologetic.

Jeff shook his head, "Not yet, I have an idea," he grinned to the two men. "You guys want to pull a great trick? Why don't we walk in to our state funeral?"

"Our state funeral?" asked Fred bitterly. "I have a feeling we'd only be walking in to yours."

"Besides, that's way back on the Shield," said the guard with the shake of his head. "We'd need to fly you all the way back to Ianapalis, and the Ambassador has only two flyers at his immediate disposal."

"Yes, our state funeral. There's no reason I'm any more important than you guys are," Jeff said resolutely.

"Two fliers? Can the Ambassador keep a secret?"

"I'm sure," said Fred quietly.

"Keep a secret, Your Grace? I-I'm afraid you'd have to ask him."

The guard leaned forward. "Between you and me, His Excellency has the tendency to do everything strictly by the book. You have to be a real brown-noser to pull off something like Indore Station."

Jeff nods to Fred, "Yeah. Come on Fred, we wouldn't have gotten out of there without you.

"He is huh? Fred, you feel up to a flight?" Jeff said with a mischevious grin.

"Anything to get out of Gallaga," mumbled Fred.

"I ought to call over the Major," said the guard nervously. "I'm not supposed to be talking this freely. After all 'anyone could be a spy for the Clerks!'" The last bit was said in what was obviously a slam on some superior officer's Tharian accent.

"Nah, don't tell the Mayor. Look," Jeff said pulling out a pen and scribbling a note down quickly.

Collection upon presentation to Larkinian Embassy:

1000 Generals

Authorized: Amb. Jeffrey Williams

"So where's the nearest airfield around here?"

The guard smiled. "Tell what to whom, Your Grace?" he asked innocently.

"Way in the western outskirts of town - that way," he said to the question, pointing down a street.

"We're not even going to stay for a good night's sleep in a good bed?" asked Fred wistfully, looking up at the Embassy forlornly.

((is forlornly even a proper adverb? Or did I just pull that out of my ass ;)? The world wonders...))

(I think you made up a new adverbial use! Forlornly.. heh heh)

"Fred, when we get back to Ianapalis, you can stay at the hotel of your choice in either Iansisle or Larkinia for a week," he said. As the two men left to the airfield, he turned back to the guard, "You look me up when you get to Ianapalis!" he said. "but I need to know your name first to tell the staff to look out for you!"

(Heading home from work, back online in 20 or so!)

((sweet...hopefully, I'll still be online. If I shove off to bed in the meantime (i know -- i've been on something almost resembling a normal schedule of late!) I'll edit this message to let you know.))

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that," said Fred. "Ack, I suppose I can't wait to get back home. I've this girl back in Coastal Paradise, see. Nearly forgot about her in all this excitment."

"Aaron Gardner!" replied the young guard, tossing a salute. "Best of luck, Your Grace!"

(back in black! Heh heh)

Jeff saluted the man back, "Thanks Aaron! We'll need it!"

Jeff turned and walked with Fred towards the airfield, "You do huh? that's great! So, tell me more about yourself Fred. You know all about me, I mean it'll level the playing field when we talk."

Fred blushed slightly. "Ah...I'd hardly even know how to start...I mean, I've not led a terribly exciting life."

He managed to refrain from adding 'until now.'

"Awww, sure you do!" Jeff said, "You've already said you've got a girl in Coastal Paradise. You two serious? Married and kids maybe? Plus you get to fly all over the place! That's gotta be fun."

Jeff was already working out how to get out of Gallaga quietly. he wondered if the phone implants would work out here. He'd call Niven Corp. and try to line up a private flight out, not letting Niven know, cause Dad would let the cat outta the beg, then he'd kill Jeff.

"No, no, not married," said Fred shyly. "I met her overseas during the war - she was a nurse when my bomber got shot down over Fort Manly. We've been going steady since then."

The streets of Indore rolled by them as they talked. Soon, the plain field of the Indore Aerofield was visable; it wasn't much to look at, from the one paved runway to the dilapadated buildings and flyers scattered about.

"That's great!" Jeff smiled at him. "You ever thought of popping the question? How long has it been?"

(Check your TG's in 2 min or so)

"Pretty long," admitted Fred. "Three - four years." He sighed. "I've thought about a few times, but haven't been quite able to screw up the courage."

"I suppose I have led a fairly exciting life," Fred forced himself to admit. "Nothing compared to yours, of course!"

checked/replied to!

(and like a game of tennis, replied to again ;) )

"You ought to! Life's too short to live through with regrets. And if you don't act now, you don't know what tomorrow will bring. Take it from me, with what we've gone through, if you really love her, you should do it!"

Jeff looked around the airfield, "I dunno how exciting it's been. It seems more like luck that I haven't died doing some of the stupid stuff I've done."

Jeff and Fred walked onto the airstrip and started looking for a ride back to Ianapalis. Or someone to buy a plane from.

(*B*U*M*P*)

OOC: going to walk into your own State Funeral... :lol: If permitted there might be a more expensive but more reliable Alconian Flying boat around. (Hope you kept your credit card!)