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Welcome to yet another story set in the Lords of Ether universe, or as some of you know it the Pendleton universe. For those of you who are new to these stories this would follow after the Azhistan adventures posted earlier.

For those of you new to the Pendleton Stories you may find a Brief Introduction helpful.

For more stories by the same author see list here.

Prologue An NSSU battlecruiser appears; A discussion in a observatory; a parade of Janissaries; a discussion in a pleasant garden; the communist emissary speaks to ambassador Delgado; and the Communists are plotting!

Chapter I A surprising discovery made by accident; Danton & Watson follow a lead; A meeting with a Thersonian Captain; Danton makes a stunning deduction.

Chapter II Danton meets with the Sewer Commissioner; Bazalgettes great work is explored; & Mysterious Events occur!; The Game is afoot!

Chapter III Watson escapes the underground & help arrives; Danton explains the initial mystery; it is not over yet...

Epilogue The Knock; A Most Successful Hunt!

Rum System
August 1005 NE

Space, near the starway exit

The sun and the planet below reflected dully of the sides of the NSSU battlecruiser Vtoroi Mezhzvezdniy Socialistichesky Internacional, the Second Interstellar Socialist International, though the ship itself was a metallic black it did have one splash of colour, the bright red star on the prow. Along the ship were countless square outlines, hiding weapon emplacements, but also countless boxy protrusions where missiles and beam guns were housed. It slid ominously through space as a strong reminder of Communist might.

Istamboul
Rum

Ulugh Bey's Observatory

"So what is it that you wish me to see?" Henry Atkins asked curiously, he was a handsome young man from the Pendletonian embassy, and naturally flattered by Ulugh Beys invitation.

"Come here," the old man called as he crooked his finger, "here, in the telescope," he called "it is good that you came so soon, so you can see before the news come out."

"See what," Henry asked, for they were informal, in that way that a young man and an older Rumish noble may be informal, he then placed his eye over the telescope and saw... fear.

It seemed enormous, like it dominated the sky, even though Henry reminded himself that it was merely due to the powerful telescope. Then he saw it, the Communist ship, with its bright Red Star like some evil omen. Suppressing an involuntary shudder Henry stepped back from the telescope.

"It is the latest New Soviet Star Union ship, a battlecruiser, we had known they were coming for some time but," Ulugh Bey smiled "it's such a lovely ship is it not?" then he handed a couple of plates over to Henry "Here O Youth, these are a pair of photographs I took, using a special developing medium I invented."

Henry eagerly accepted them "why are they here?" he asked.

Ulugh Bey shrugged "who can tell, but most likely to make a display of their force," he peered up at the sky "ships of war should not ply the skies, how many times have I not spied some bright star or comet only to be disappointed that it is yet another ship... at least the old ones are beautiful." He peered sadly at Henry and then added "but do run O Impatient Youth, for I believe that your masters at the embassy would wish to hear this news."

Topkapi Palace
Later...

The shrill Janissary music filled the air as the Mehter Bant began its march across the vast square in front of the Sultans palace. They were attired in their colourful garb to the front came the Captain in his red robes and quilted turban, he wore a long yellow robe where vertical gores divided the back from the front panels, and in his hand the command staff. Then came the regular musicians wearing red robes, turbans and shoes, and of course everyone wore the baggy Mohammedan red pantaloons.

It was quite a spectacle as they advanced, the cevgenler or singer dressed as the Captain would sing out loudly to the accompaniment of the rest of the band. The band marched forward in perfect unison, while the heavy kös drums created a thunderous rhythm that seemed to permeate the whole performance, and then in perfect unison they'd stop every three steps and look right and left before marching on.

"Allah Allah deyip geçti Genç Osman of of" the current song went, the Pendletonian observer couldn't follow the rest of it as it was in Ottoman Turkish, and it was the reason for this spectacle that interested him far more than the musicians themselves.

The Communist dignitaries of the New Soviet Star Union were interesting subjects, in the main stodgy and stocky men with impressive beards, he did not know whether this was their custom or something they did to impress the natives. Impressing the natives was of course made easier with their elaborate uniforms, enormous golden shoulder boards wide enough to sail a battleship on, wide sashes, and row upon row of glittering medals, some of them the size of a fist. Deep down he wondered if the Communists gave out medals simply for remembering to get out of bed in the morning.

Unfortunately the Communist spectacle had impressed the Sultan enough to invite them as guests of honour for this military display where impressive airships trailing colourful banners with massive Tugras on them. Mad whirling dervishes danced across the field, and obviously crewed the airships as well, their magical energies crackling about them. Not to mention the endless rows of dragoons and cavalry, each in uniform covered in gold embroidery and other finery, a brace of revolvers tucked into their wide sashes, and old fashioned black powder carbines of the sort that Pendleton had stopped using since the unification war; but there was a lot of them, and of the swarthy mustachio'd soldiers that marched past them, not as glorious or glittering as the rest but always in ample supply.

What wouldn't I give for an inside view of what goes on there... the agent thought as he peered at the assembled dignitaries, the Grand Vizier of the Divan the veiled daughter of the Sultan, and all the other members of the Royal Court.

Ulugh Bey's Garden

It was such a lovely garden, it had many trees, some green and providing naught but shade, others fruit trees with small buds slowly ripening, or more rarely still flowering with the petals gently dropping and the flower folding in on itself as autumn approached. The flowers were many and exotic, though they were closed now as it was night, but the smell remained, a powerful scent that pleased the senses.

Henry and Ulugh Bey sat on one of the marble benches in the garden, above them in a nearby tree a nightingale gently sang, and slightly further away they could hear the gentle sound of a fountain. The elderly mans and was over the youngsters shoulder, and they leaned against one another.

Ulugh Bey he was a distant relative of the Sultan and as such a very prominent person. In private he was a humble elderly man, his beard long and well kept, but grey, and he himself very fastidious. His face was worn with age, and he had grown slightly scrawny over the years. His dress was far more humble than it needed to be, but he did wear green robes and a green turban, for he was Hajj, and as his only affectation he had a gemstone in his turban.

"Oh how things change O Splendid Youth," Ulugh Bey said with a sigh "how many of these trees were but seeds when I planted them in my middle age."

"Does not wine change with age O Sheykh?" Henry asked as he moved a little closer to the learned man, his warm breath against the elders cheek.

Ulugh Bey smiled and let out a tiny chuckle "O Youth, if you mean that it turns to vinegar you are quite right, but if you mean that it turns better then alas you are much mistaken, for all wines can be kept for a certain time and no more, and then decay comes."

"Some wine endures longer than other, and bring great joy when tasted even in advanced years," Henry answered, then he tilted his head up and peered at the nightingale.

The elder chuckled again, but smiled "Inshallah what you say is true."

Henry looked up at the sky, the stars were so perfectly visible, far more so than they'd ever be in Pendleton "how sweet the nightingale sings, and how clear the stars are."

"The nightingales song is sweet because it alone sings at night," Ulugh Bey exclaimed "and the stars... yes they are lovely, over us are the stars, and over the stars is Allah."

They sat together, arms around each other, speaking softly of this and that, their conversation a deep often philosophical one of beauty and longing. Yet after a while Henry sighed deeply, he looked at Ulugh Bey and asked "Everyone at the embassy are so nervous, they run about with no rhyme or reason."

"So frighted by one little ship?" Ulugh Bey asked, a smile on his lips "I find that hard to believe O Youth."

"By what the ship represents O Sheykh, for truly if Rum were an enemy we should have foes on both sides," Henry said in a quiet voice, but he sounded and was sincere.

To this the venerable Sheykh let out another chuckle "So that is what your fear is all about? No, Rum is but being Rum, friendly and neutral to all, not seeking foes if we can avoid it, and worrying far more about the Ohms than foolish ideologues, so why would you fear that Rum should turn hostile?"

"The Godless are working their wiles on Azhistan, and yet the Ruler of the Faithful does nothing," Henry said, appearing quite worried.

"Like you are working your wiles on me O Youth?" the Sheykh said as he gave Henry a long probing look, the young mans cheeks turned red, and the Sheykh touched his finger to them "how like blooming rose are your cheeks, how sweet and decorous is your blush," and their lips met briefly "but have no fear, the Communist play games, and you play games, and in the end Azhistan remains untamed and we pay no heed to such games."

"But if they go beyond games?" Henry asked even as they moved closer "what then?"

"Why then... then things change... and we should oppose them, but they know that this would be the price, and they are unwilling to pay," the Sheykh said at last.

After that the conversation turned to other things, none of which are of interest, and so we turn our attention elsewhere...

Embassy of the Free Republic of Pendleton
Ambassador Delgado's Office
Some days later

Ambassador Delgado looked up at his visitor the man was a cipher, no emotions could be seen on his broad Slavic face, he was heavy set and cleanly shaved, but that only meant that the strain of a long hard life was clearly visible. Even the mans clothes seemed slightly awkward, a three piece suit yes, but the collar of the shirt was outside the jacket, and for all his life Delgado couldn't see a watch-chain anywhere.

"The New Soviet Star Union is disturbed by the recent developments in Azhistan, we have found undeniable evidence of your governments involvement there. Your support of the brigand Dost Khan, and your aid in the destruction of the city of Suleymaniyah are both most disturbing, and we feel that we must request in the most strenuous terms possible that you cease and desist your interference in the internal affairs of Azhistan, and reimburse Suleyman Khan for the æther stocks which you and your supporters approbated during the attempted coup against his rule. We should further emphasise that such interference cannot be described as being the act of a friendly nation."

This man, Kozlovski, had said it all almost without taking a breath, and without his tone of voice changing even once, quite an impressive feat, but he added one thing "my government requests a response, and ask that it be given in due time."

"Mr Kozlovski, we have already heard about your ludicrous allegations," it was a lie of course but since they had expected something of the sort they had already prepared a statement "These accusations that we have agents on Azhistan is merely malicious Communist propaganda, the freedom loving people of Pendleton have no interest in the internal affairs of foreign nations. Indeed we cathegorically deny knowledge of any and all events on Azhistan"

Kozlovski's mien didn't change one iota "I shall inform my government of your reply, but I must inform you that such a denial, though to be expected from a capitalist slaver state, cannot be said to be either factually correct, nor entirely prudent, adieu Comrade Ambassador!" he nodded once and then turned around and left without another word.

"Rude fellow if you will forgive me saying so Sir," Vincent Hewith, the Chief of Security, opined after the doors to the office slammed shut.

Delgado nodded "Yes, but quite frankly his entire government is an offence Mr Hewith, it'd be hard for him to be any more offensive, but ..." he motioned his hand where the Communist delegate had been.

"Right on it Sir," Hewith replied as he gave a quick nod and then moved to get the mages and scanners, just in case the Communist had left behind a little surprise.

Later still...

Delgado studied the report from Agent Atkins, it was short and succinct, the young man had talent for developing sources, and of course he had to be commended for finding one so close to the Sultan. That said he felt a bit disgusted, even as he dropped the thick high quality paper back on his desk, but he'd always considered Atkins to be a little too delicate, he was that sort.

"Mr Hewith, is the embassy secure?"

"Yes Sir, it is absolutely secure," Hewith replied at once "staff and residence both."

"Strangely enough Mr Hewith I don't think this is the last we'll hear of these Communists," Delgado said as he began to stuff the report into an envelope, it'd have to be sent to Erde, and it was too compromising to make copies of.

"No Sir, I have to concur there," Hewith replied.

Delgado hesitated a bit, his hand resting on the envelope, and a shiver went through his body, and he took a deep breath.

"Sir?" Hewith said.

"Just a sense as if..." Delgado smiled a bit "someone stepped on my grave Mr Hewith," he tapped the envelope "if you could please personally handle the delivery, it's really too important to leave to underlings."

NSSU Battlecruiser Vtoroi Mezhzvezdniy Socialistichesky Internacional
Rum System
August 1005 NE

Commissars Quarters

"Feh!" Commissar Rudmillov burst out as he heard of the Pendletonian reply "Lying Capitalists! Denying how they are infiltrating Azhistan to fuel their imperialist ambitions, and interfere with our covert mission of enlightenment, not to mention our liberation of their geodes!"

"Yes Comrade Commissar, they are a most untrustworthy and reactionary lot," Kozlovski replied at once "but the revolution will sweep them aside as it liberates their people."

"Yes Comrade Diplomat! The Revolution will prevail," the Commissar agreed, "I shall communicate this impertinence to the home office, and then... these bourgeoisie slave drivers shall learn the wrath of their own people!"

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

Bleak Castle
SCI Danton's & SI Watsons' office

In the late summer even the stone walls of Bleak Castle were physical warm, even when a thunderous rainstorm raged outside turning the gutters into small streams and carrying away the everyday flotsam and rubbish that had accumulated there over the past few weeks. Security Chief Inspector Antoine Danton stood by the lead window and peered out at the storm, he could feel the gufts of wind through the tiny cracks in the window, they almost made up for the lack of ventilation.

He turned back to peer at his office, it was of course rather cramped and as was often the case he shared it with his partner Quentin Watson, but it had a nice view and it was pleasantly situated in regards to the powers that be; not so close that they could check up on you constantly, but close enough that they wouldn't forget that you were there.

They were not too dissimilar, Danton was a bit handsome but mostly average, but he looked clean and well groomed with a a tidy moustache and small beard. Watson on the other hand was a bit taller and beefier looking, with a bushy handlebar moustache and thick sideburns. He was also dressed well though, but for whatever reason he always looked slightly disorderly.

He walked over to his chair and sat down, the well oiled leather giving under his light frame, then he casually drummed his fingers on the tabletop until his partner raised his head "Watson," he called "I feel that this is most enervating!"

Quentin Watson peered up from his newspaper, his enormous and rather pungent cigar still in his mouth, "What is Sir? I think that we're having a nice and quiet time."

"That is just it! Ah! We Aquitainians are artists, we are driven to explore, to create, and yet now..." Danton moved his hand across the table "Look at this Watson! There's not a case worthy of our attention, why..." he picked up one piece of paper, peered at it with disgust "a murder, a tawdry murder with a brick, and the fiancee did it, a shame, an awful shame, but that's all there is too it, and this," he held up another bundle of papers "some petty scandal of the sorts that entertain the local papers for a week or two!"

"Well now Sir, I don't know about that, they need solving don't they?" Watson asked curiously.

"Yes but such piffles could be handled by the Gendarmes! Or even the local Police, it hardly requires our presence, why there's nothing in these matters that require our intrusion except that the individuals involved were of a class so elevated that they fancied it had to be some matter of state security if one of them should perish or vanish," Danton threw up his hands "such petty foolishness, as if a count cannot be murdered, and a Lady cannot elope!"

Watson kept quiet, he had seen Danton in his moods before and he knew full well that it was absolutely pointless to argue with him, indeed he was quite right about much of the work they had been doing lately, as it was light and trivial. That said Watson didn't mind, it was good to get his mind of more serious issues.

There was a knock on the door and a cry of "Mail call!" Moments later a tall gangly youth entered holding a bundle of mail, "For you Sir," he said as he placed a bundle of thick envelopes on Danton's desk.

After he had left Danton cut the envelope seals away with his letter opener, then he began pulling out the contents giving them a cursory look, they were in the main typewritten reports, some newspaper clippings, and the odd sample of confiscated literature and pamphlets being circulated in the department "for your information".

One by one he spread them across his table and studied them intently, it was the usual rubbish "CLAIM YOUR RIGHTS!" from some labour union or other, "SUFFRAGE NOW!" from the local harridans, and even an "ABOLISH SLAVERY!" All of them had the same tired old claims of workers rights, womens rights, and universal rights. Danton sighed and muttered under his breath as he began to skim over the abolitionist screed.

After some time their secretary, Morcerf, came in carrying a wooden tray, it was of the kind with a long wide strap connecting each of the short sides and going over his neck, so as to help him hold it with only one hand. There were two bright metal pots on it, one containing coffee and the other tea, and of course two trays of biscuits and two cups with saucers.

"Excellent Morcerf," Danton called as he saw the man enter, he put the documents to the side and took his coffee and biscuits, then just after Watson got his tea and biscuits Danton realised something "Morcerf..."

"Yes Sir?" the secretary said as he straightened up.

"You forgot the sugar," Danton informed him.

"So sorry Sir I will fetch it at once," Morcerf replied before leaving, moments later he returned with a pair of glass bowls holding sugar cubes, and as he placed one at Dantons table there was one of those little accidents the coffee cup was tipped over spilling the contents all over the new documents.

Danton rose up pushing the chair back as he sought to avoid getting hot coffee on himself "You clumsy oaf!" he cried out even as a horrified Morcerf tried to wipe up the spilled coffee, "away with you!" Danton called as he waved his hand impatiently "before you wreck my entire desk!"

"Yes Sir, so sorry Sir," Morcerf replied as he bowed and quickly absented himself.

Watson sipped his tea slowly while watching the scene, then he grabbed a biscuit and chewed it slowly.

After a few moments Danton calmed down and sat back down, spreading the soaked documents out hoping to avoid getting ink smears all over his desk, a handful of them were already blotchy nightmares dripping black ink mixed with coffee, but some weren't. He blinked once, then he picked one of them up, it was a Labour Union screed from a union he hadn't heard of before, not that it meant much since they kept changing names, but the ink was still pristine.

"Watson," he called.

"Yes Sir?" Watson replied looking up from his tea.

"Take a look at this if you please."

"Right," Watson said as he rose up and walked over, tea cup, or mug rather it was quite sizeable, in his hand, he bowed down and looked at the pamphlet that Danton held "It looks fine to me Sir."

"Indeed it does Watson, pristine no?" Danton said with a smile watching his partner.

For a moment Watson didn't understand, but then realisation dawned "hang on, most... some of the others are all, ink can't take hot coffee, well can't take water Sir, so why..."

"Why isn't this pamphlet turning into a blotched nightmare with ink running everywhere?" Danton completed "that is a very good question Watson, one we'll have to find an answer to!"

Major Alldredge's office

"Mmmhmmm," Major Alldredge said as he studied the slightly crumbled notes and pamphlets that Danton had brought him, the major was in an office not much larger than that Danton had, but he didn't have to share. Outside there was a flash which briefly illuminated the room, and then three seconds later a long droning thunderclap. The storm raged on, and there was a low sound of the wind pressing in through the cracks in the lead windows.

Finally Major Alldredge put the papers back down "Yes well Mr Danton, you appear to be quite correct, this is most puzzling," his voice was as grey as the man himself "I take it you want this case?"

"Yes Sir, it's quite puzzling, and I do like a challenge," Danton replied.

"I see, I see, well now, Mr Danton if you want this case you have it, how do you intend to handle it though?"

"Well Sir with your permission I would go to the Political Printings Department and find out which groups have these new pamphlets and prints, and where they've been distributed. Discretion being key I had thought to do this under the pretence of tracking down a Labour Union with abolitionist tendencies, preferably one known for violent acts and rapid name changes. I would also need a couple of reliable aides, I have some in mind that I've used before Sir."

"Good, good, but remember your own words, discretion Mr Danton," Major Alldredge had already begun scribbling something on a piece of paper, he stopped and made a very low grunt as another flash of lightning made him blotch the paper. When he was done he scattered sand on it before shaking it clean and handing it to Danton "Here you are, and I'll want regular reports of course."

"Of course Sir, I am most grateful," Danton gave a quick bow before be moved towards the door to leave.

Political Printings Department

The Sergeant on duty looked up at the two men before him, he hardly hid his fatigue, "hhhhhhrrhh" he half growled half coughed, then he took the note and read it quickly. "Right, right," the Sergeant said "right Sirs, we'll get right on this, does the gentlemen wish this brought to their own office or shall you have a table in our department?"

"Here will be fine Sergeant," Danton replied, he nodded and then added "if you could please arrange for coffee and tea."

"Of course Sir," the Sergeant said coffee AND tea, blimey he thought, but it weren't worth it to upset the quality.

The research room in the Political Printings Department was much as the reading room in a library, except it was not so quiet, and instead of bookshelves stretching as far as the eye could see there were row upon row of filing cabinets and cubby holes where various writings were stored. The table they were sitting at was quite large, a large green cover had been placed on it to protect the tabletop itself, and on top of this they had laid a large map of the city; it was quite an accurate map, and they had placed a very thin transparent sheet of paper over it to make marks on.

"Here you are Sirs," the young gofer told them as he gave them another bundle of pamphlets and a couple of posters that looked like they'd been scraped of the side of a wall "latest collection."

"Thank you," Danton said, and then checked the address note attached to the pamphlets with a paperclip, each object was labelled with a note on where it was found.

Working together Danton, Watson, and the two agents began to discretely test the notes they received, it was quite simple really just wet your thumb and then rub it against some of the text, if it smudged it was domestic, but if it didn't then they made another tiny note on the transparent paper.

Soon a pattern began to emerge, there were certainly scattered finds all over the city, which was to be expected since the odd pamphlet would be picked up and carried off. However there were four sections which received special attention the port and docks; the mean slum district between St Martin in the Fields and St Giles, popularly called "The Holy Land" for being flanked on all sides by churches; Alsatia, a densely packed working class district mixed with factories; but the surprising one was Marleybone which was a reasonably middle-class to well to do area.

That is Marleybone was surprising until Watson, rather self-consciously mind you, said one word "Avonleans," the district was filled with emancipated slaves and exiled Avonleans, but it was also surrounded by other foreign districts.

Speaking in a low voice Danton added "Well now they have certainly chosen well, no?"

Which indeed they seemed to have, if you were rabble rousing, or inciting slow sedition as these posters and pamphlets seemed to be, then the areas in question were very well chosen. It was at any rate enough to write a preliminary report, and to recommend that further resources be dedicated to investigating the situation.

Major Alldredge's office

Danton and Watson were somewhat surprised to see, as they entered Major Alldredge's office, that there was a second gentleman present. He was a pleasant looking gentleman wearing in a white suit, and there had been a white hat hanging on the rack outside, the guest was holding a cane with a silvery knob in panthers head design. He also had a rather prominent watch chain with a dangling round metal object on the far end.

"Ah Chief Inspector Danton and Inspector Watson, just the fellows I were telling you about in fact," Major Alldredge begun.

Suddenly the strange gentlemen shot up from his seat "Please indulge me Sir," he called, and seeing a nod from Major Alldredge he turned towards Danton "I've heard something of your latest case, but first ... tell me about me?"

"Pardon monsieur?" Danton asked as his eyebrow rose slightly.

The gentleman in the white suit smiled "well for one many people say I have a nice smile, a winning personality, hmmm?"

"Ah I see," Danton begun, "games, very well monsieur there is not much I can tell except that you are from the Southern Islands, presumably born and raised, but that you have not been able to return there as often as you have wished. At some point you were very active in the military, indeed I would venture that you were a Captain in the militia before joining the Bureau. So far you are either Sir Hubert Westingstoke or Alexander Rayne, but assuming an interest in Communists I would hazard that you are Sir Hubert Westingstoke."

"Good lord!" Sir Hubert cried "You are quite good Sir, I am indeed Sir Hubert Westingstoke, but please how did you make your guesses?"

Danton bowed slightly "Sir Hubert it was hardly a guess but deductions, from your dress and accent the Southern Islands background is clear, and your affectations show that you still feel a certain fondness for your old homeland. As for how I know you are not able to return there as often you wish, well, you are as pale as any man from Pendleton."

"As for the rest, military men acquire a certain bearing which is quite unmistakable if you know what to look for, at the end of your watch chain I spy a button from a militia regiment, and I also note that the head of your cane is of a panther, a design favoured by Southern Islands militia. Now without being offensive it is clear that any man with some wits and drive would find it trivially simple to gain a Captaincy in the militia, but that he would also find it frustratingly hard to proceed beyond this and thus find the Bureau to be a more satisfactory challenge."

"I happen to know that Alexander Rayne is also ostentatiously from the Southern Islands, but only one of you have an interest in Communist intrigue which I perceive to be your interest here today."

"Aha," Sir Hubert cried "I thought for a moment you had used some spell or other, but now Sir I see it was not such a great matter after all."

"Alas Sir Hubert," Danton said looking slightly exasperated "I fear that I must keep my deductive process a secret least people start thinking I am just an ordinary fellow!"

"Gentlemen," Major Alldredge broke in "I have read Mr Dantons report and I do believe that the two of you have a common interest," he looked to Sir Hubert with an expectant glance.

"Ah yes of course Sir," Sir Hubert said, then he smiled again "Well Chief Inspector, I happen to know a gentleman that could be of some assistance in this venture, and I'd be happy to arrange an introduction."

"That would be most appreciated Sir Hubert," Danton replied "but if I may inquire who this gentleman is?"

"Ah yes, his name is Captain von Strohm of the Thersonian embassy, obviously this is a matter of some discretion Chief Inspector so you and your partner are both cordially invited to dine with me at the Ætherial Club," Sir Hubert announced.

Danton looked to Watson who gave a nod, "I'm honoured of course Sir Hubert, and looking forward to it."

"Of course the same goes for me Sir Hubert," Watson replied as well.

The Ætherial Club
Dining Booth

The Ætherial Club was a venerable one, dedicated as an association for people dealing with Deep Sky travel and the implications thereof, it was in short a club for diplomats, Deep Sky Fleet officers, as well as select mages and intelligencers. Each member also had the right to invite two guests to accompany him to dinner or to the common library and sitting room, but not into any other part of the club.

The building was a greystone one in the Palazzio style with clear separation between the stories using a protruding cornice. The façade had rows of large windows with dominating classical lintels. The first story was raised above the pavement and guests would walk up a set of stairs to reach the entrance door. Within the club was somewhat austere and masculine in style, with dark colours and clean lines dominating.

The dining room itself was quite large and held several tables, indeed it was a fair sized restaurant in its own right, and many important arrangements had been made at the various tables. However in the back, for those occasions when additional privacy was called for, there were private booths large enough for maybe eight guests at a time if they were slightly cramped. These booths were covered by thick curtains that absorbed all sound, and along the other three walls of the booth ran leather upholstered benches, with the table in the centre.

There were four men in the booth, Danton, Watson, Sir Hubert, and Captain von Strohm of the Thersonian embassy. Captain von Strohm was a tall and cool looking fellow, he was smoking a cigarette from an amber mouthpiece tiny wafts of smoke rising up, his eyes were grey and quite intense. He wore feldgrau Thersonian uniform, and for some reason, though he was an infantry officer, he wore riding breeches and riding boots.

Currently they were enjoying a fine meal and the contents of the clubs wine cellar, however the meal was somewhat neglected in favour of the discussion about the pamphlets that had been recovered.

"Chief Inspector Danton if I may see this material please?" von Strohm asked after gently daubing his mouth with a white linen napkin.

"Of course Captain," Danton said as he handed over a pamphlet, the topmost one was half brownish and the paper had that wave like form that occurs when paper gets wet and then dries.

Von Strohm quickly flipped through the pamphlets and notes, frowning a bit at the first one since it was slightly difficult to open it without tearing it, then after a moment he commented "Gentlemen, I am of course willing to help against Communists but this seems to me the standard rubbish..."

"If the Captain would please observe the printing on the one where I accidentally spilled my coffee," Danton said gently pointing.

Von Strohm looked at it for a moment "I'm sorry Chief Inspector but the printing and contents seem fine."

"Precisely, hot coffee should have turned the ink into a smear," Danton said, puzzled that a seemingly intelligent man would not realise it himself.

"I see..." Von Strohm frowned a bit "Chief Inspector am I to know that you do not have the waterproof ink?"

"That would be correct Captain," Danton confirmed.

"I see, well gentlemen," von Strohm gave a nod and then fished up a monocle tied to a thin black string, up from his left chest pocket, he mounted it on his right eye and peered and the pamphlet. Moments later he let out a "hmmmm," then he put down the pamphlet "do you mind if I keep these?"

Danton peered at Sir Hubert who at once shook his head and explained "Not at all Captain, feel free, but please regard them as confidential."

"Of course Sir Hubert," von Strohm answered as he slid the pamphlets into his turned back cuffs "I will send you our notes".

The conversation went on to other subjects of lesser importance after that, and Sir Hubert and von Strohm dominated that part, leaving Danton free to his thoughts. The matter was obviously weighing heavily on him, and the information he had acquired, though helpful, only went part of the way.

Bleak Castle
SCI Danton's & SI Watsons' office

"What now then Sir?" Watson asked, it had been a couple of days since their discussion with von Strohm.

"Now my dear Watson we wait," Danton said as he peered up apparently studying the miniscule cracks in the ceiling "I hate this lack of information," he mused "if this had been a strictly domestic situation I could have..."

It was then that a knock and a familiar voice crying "Mall call," interrupted Danton's musings. Once more the tall gangly youth entered the office carrying a bundle of mail "Here you are Sir, and this..." he handed over a sealed envelope "you have to sign for it."

Danton picked up his fountain pen and signed his name with a flourish before he picked up the envelope, it carried the stamp of the Thersonian embassy. With considerable speed he tore it up and began to read it out loud to Watson.

Thersonian Embassy
19, August

Sir,

I am forwarding this missive to you, Chief Inspector, and to Major Alldredge, as it is of interest to you both. The pamphlets and notes are most curious, ink not of domestic origin, printing appears to have been done by way of Laser Printer possibly linked to an electronic computer. See attached appendix for information on laser printers, but definitely of foreign origin.

I cannot at this time say more, we do not have a forensics lab at the embassy, but have sent the samples home by fast courier, should have an answer shortly. However at a guess I would consider that the Communist responsibility is likely, most likely.

Please to note that laser printer may weigh less than 100 (a hundred) pounds, and may print thousands of pamphlets a day, but requires electricity.

Sign

Hauptman Fritz von Strohm

Danton then began reading through the appendix at a prodigious rate before tossing it too to the table "Well now we know what we are looking for, but we still don't know where..."

"Maybe we could mark the paper, figure out how they got it that way?" Watson suggested "I mean they do use local paper."

"Now a bad idea Watson, but you see... they probably move about a lot, and there's always a chance the mark would be found," Danton said as he once more looked up at the narrow cracks in the ceiling.

"How about the ink Sir? I mean if its now domestic they got to import it, and we're not importing so much that it hurts," Watson tried again.

"Excellent thought, but... there are many ways they could get the ink, and there's no sure fire way of finding out which one they used," Danton replied as he tapped his fingertips against one another, then his eyes narrowed "The Commercial Docks, The Holy Land, Alsatia, and Marleybone, which one does not belong with the others?"

"Well Marleybone Sir," Watson replied at once "I mean nice roughly middle-class district, and the other three being total slums."

Danton suddenly sat up "Of course! We've been fools! We've focussed so much on the printers that we've forgotten politics!"

"Sir?" Watson said, sounding quite surprised at this outburst.

"What do Communists want?"

"Well Sir to have revolution of the proletariat, burn churches, rape nuns, make everyone live in a big happy utopia kind of deal, the kind that involves killing everyone that don't agree with them," Watson said easily enough "nasty fellows."

"So why the Holy Land?" Danton exclaimed, he was already walking over to one of their filing cabinets "Think about it they're not workers, they are criminals, runaway slaves, prostitutes, well yes maybe there is a portion of them that are day labourers, but in the main we are talking thieves and villains." Danton was sounding more and more emotive as he continued "so why the Holy Land when there's what? A half dozen working class areas as bad as Alsatia? Why not put up shop where people are more interested in Labour Unions, I am telling you Watson the more I think about it the more the Holy Land stands out."

"Barricades Sir? I mean narrow streets, be easy enough to hold of an army there," Watson replied thoughtfully "but... now we could burn that place down, or starve'em out, and nobody would care, unlike Alsatia, try that there and the Liberal press would be screaming bloody murder."

"Exactly Watson, exactly, the place should have no value to them except..." he had now pulled out a rather large annotated map of Pendleton City and spread it out so it covered part of the floor then he crouched down on all fours on top of it "ah yes, of course, of course, how clever of them. There are two reasons for the Communists to set up shop there, the second less important one Watson is that they're criminals, the locals that is, so that means forged documents and a certain tolerance for secretive behaviour."

"And the first? The important one?" Watson said as he walked over to the map and tried to see what had excited Danton so much.

"I'm coming to that but first..." Danton peered up at Watson "tell me would you mind spending some days in disguise?"

"Undercover work you mean?" Watson shrugged, then he shook his head a bit "not in the least Sir, I've done it before, why?"

"Mind a bit of smell?" Danton said as he moved his finger across the interesting aspect.

Watson's eyes widened "how bad a smell?"

"Very bad Watson, very bad, but for a good cause, and there's a chance of some rough play too I fear," Danton replied as a smile crossed his lips "but I think we have them."

"In that case I'm your man Sir, but... is that," Watson seemed fascinated "but how will that help us?"

"All in good time Watson, but now lets see Major Alldredge, I think he needs to know too," Danton rose and quickly folded the map "so let us get ready for battle."

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

Pendleton Sewer Service
Commissioners Office

"I say!" the Commissioner broke out as he read the note he had been given "Sir this is most irregular," he was a balding man also with a ginger handlebar moustache and thick sideburns, and he looked rather perplex.

"There's nothing irregular about this Sir," Inspector Danton assured him, "indeed this note is the very epitome of regularity," he gave a polite nod though.

The Commissioner rose up and walked across the office, it was a relatively Spartan one dominated by his large oaken desk with a pair of brass and ceramic telephones, showing his importance, on it. However what the office lacked in décor it made up for in wall space to hang large maps on, and it was one of these large maps that he approached. It was about four by five feet in size, and which had with many annotations made with a lead pencil, thus it could show the sewer system in considerable detail.

"The area between St Martin in the Fields and St Giles," he indicated it with his finger as he continued his explanation "has hardly any real plumbing at all, why aside from a few public lavatories and some holes to drop their waste in there isn't any, therefore it is a waste of time and resources to go there. The main sewers are solid and there's nothing of critical import, the next major maintenance check up is not for another two months!"

"Sir, I am sure that a man of your considerable intelligence, could find sine suitable explanation for, ah, expediting the schedule?" Danton suggested cautiously, his eyes carefully studying the Commissioner, then he leaned forward a bit "The Bureau would owe you a favour Sir."

The Commissioner took a deep breath through his nose, then he nodded "Yes Sir, well," he turned back to the map "there's been some reports of clogging, and a claim that part of the sewer tunnel was built using substandard mortar, no doubt nonsense but yes I can send a group right away if need be."

"No no Sir, if you please, three days from now," Danton quickly interjected.

"As you wish Sir, three days from now."

"And this investigation, it would reveal any and all of the irregularities?"

"Well I should say so Sir, why these men they take pride in their work, so if there's anything wrong they'll find it."

"Thank you Commissioner, I meant no disparagement, I am most obliged, and the announcement Sir it will be handled how?"

"Why the usual way Sir, an advertisement in the Times and in the Courier, and then a posting on the public notice board."

"Very good," Danton was making notes in a small leather notice book "and the ad will be out tomorrow?"

"That's right."

"Thank you Sir, you've been most helpful."

The Sewers
A large intercepting sewer

"Cor, smells bad in here," Watson exclaimed as he descended the last steps of the concrete stairs, his boots hitting the walkway hard.

"It's not so bad," came a voice from behind him, and oddly enough the stench seemed to grow worse "been a nice summer rainstorm, washed away all the filthy gunk."

Watson turned back to look at the ... man for he supposed it was male "not all the filthy gunk," he said even though he at once regretted it.

"Well nearly all of it guv'nor," the creature continued, it was short, filthy, and the most disgusting thing that Watson had ever seen.

"Well Baldrick, lead the way."

"Right you are then guv'nor."

The intercepting brick sewers were wonders of modern engineering, they were at least fifteen feet wide and eight feet high with a round arch ceiling, and a walkway some four feet wide running along both sides. The walls and ceiling were made from brick and waterproof mortar, and the sewers were cunningly made so as to tilt two inches downward every mile thus making water run through them but without any obvious list. There was however no light, except in the most modern section, and anyone moving through would have to carry their own.

Walking through the corridor Watson and Baldrick could hear their footsteps echo down the long sewers, every now and again small furry shapes would scurry away just outside the cone of light.

Suddenly they came across something surprising, "OY! 'ose there!" Baldrick cried, only to be answered by the sound of small feet running away "damn mudlarks."

The mudlarks, young boys and girls hiding in the sewers and underground system of Pendleton, scavenging it and the garbage dumps for saleable items, were a familiar fact of life. You could hardly visit the sewers without running into them once or twice.

The Holy Land
Streetside

Huddled in a small alley in the "Holy Land" there was a rather shifty looking fellow, much like many others, he had covered himself with a newspaper for warmth and peered sourly across the street as he drank from a greenish bottle. Looking at him you'd feel sorry or disgusted, for he was slovenly and unshaven, grimy moustache, and yellowish teeth.

The street in front of him was quite dark, even though it was wider than the norm, and some reformer had once upon a time erected streetlights there, but for most of the stretch they were out. In the street a small stream ran, a remnant of the rain, and carried dirt and pamphlets with it sweeping them into the sewer grates.

Suddenly he spotted another figure running down the street, immediately he crouched further into the alley, but the man was not interested in some hobo hidden away in an alleyway. Instead he rushed over to a door on the opposite side of the street and knocked, even as he did came the first drops of rain from a new torrent, "Open the door damn it!" he yelled as the raindrops fell closer and closer.

Suddenly the door creaked open, letting a slice of light escape, inside there stood a somewhat distinguished looking elderly man in working class clothes, "Stop with the racket," he hissed.

"Damn it let me it it's raining," the man outside said "I'm getting soaked, some way to treat a fellow."

"Alright, alright."

There was some noise at the door like a safety chain being removed and then the outside man was let inside, the door slammed shut behind them, and the street was once more dark, with only the ever increasing sound of the rain drops.

The Sewers
A large intercepting sewer

Watson had waited quietly for quite a while, it was very dark where he was, but occasionally he could see flashes of light in the distance; mudlarks lighting up improvised torches, odd reflections of the light, and some other undefined light source whose source he couldn't quite find. It wasn't silent though, snatches of conversation echoing in, the running water, and something else.

For a moment he thought he was imagining things, but in the distance he could see a small barge coming up the sewer, actually inside the sewer. In front of the barge there was a single hooded lantern, and Watson pressed against the little niche where he was hiding, but the bargeman did not see him.

Looking after the passing barge Watson saw that the bargeman wore a wide brimmed hat and a wide coat too, the barge moved on about fifty feet further down where it stopped, and the bargeman raised his pole and tapped the far ceiling.

Suddenly there was a weak glimmer of light, slowly a square outline was drawn in light on the ceiling, and then with a CLANG, which echoed down the sewers, a large hatch was visible up in the ceiling. There was a muttered conversation which Watson could not quite make out between the bargeman and whoever was above.

Then all of a sudden a square shape was slowly lowered through the hatch, Watson could see that it was a crate of some sort but that was all. It gently settled into the barge, with some prodding from the bargeman, who finally gave a cry "clear," and the ropes were then pulled back up the hatch. Moments later the bargeman dipped his pole in the dirty waters and proceeded up the sewers, carrying with him his mysterious load.

Watson discretely looked about, then he got up, placed his left hand against the rough brick wall of the sewer, and kept it there as he began to walk quickly but silently in pursuit of the barge; some devilry was at foot here, and he was determined to pursue this to its natural course.

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

The Sewers
A large intercepting sewer

Pursued the mysterious barge for quite some time it seemed, and it was not always easy, more than once he nearly stumbled over some piece of debris, and often his desire to walk slowly made him nearly lose sight of the tiny hooded lantern in the prow of the barge. Fortunately the sound of the rats and the running water concealed the sound of his occasional mistake, even though they made his heart beat furiously.

There was a cool damp air to the place, aside from the stench, but fortunately the bargemans' journey came to an end, and it was near one of the large stairs leading down into the sewer. Moments after he had stopped there came a small group of four men, or so Watson gathered for he couldn't really see all that well in the gloom. With some grunts and groans they grabbed the cumbersome box and lifted it off the barge, 'ere they carried it away up the stone stairs, then the bargeman once more placed his pole into the murky water and pushed off.

He waited for sometime after they had vanished, trying to make sure that he wouldn't be spotted, but of course he had enough sense not to go up the same stairs; that was an amateur mistake. Instead he backtracked slightly till he found another niche, inside of it there was a slightly rusty black iron ladder bolted firmly to the stone, and peering up he thought he could see a manhole cover.

A Shabby Alley in a Genteel Neighbourhood

Slowly the manhole cover came off with a scraping nasty sound like nails on a blackboard, the alley did however seem quite empty, indeed the stench of the sewers did not add much to it as it was quite full of litter either packed into wooden crates or else simply scattered on the ground.

Watson pulled himself out of the manhole, then he took a deep breath of relatively clean air, it felt wonderful, but he didn't tarry, instead he quickly replaced the manhole cover. The first thing he looked for was an address, he found that easily enough by checking the house corner "Finley Street". Finding himself in a genteel neighbourhood didn't really surprise him, for one of the astounding things with Pendleton City was that you could find mansions right next to the most horrid slums.

The second thing he looked for he also found easily enough, a boy, maybe ten or twelve, sneaking furtively around the alleys and trashcans of the area; since it was amazing what the rich might throw out his presence here was hardly conspicuous, and given the trashing he'd receive if caught lurking about his stealth was hardly odd either. At first sight of Watson the boy jumped into an alley, but then recognising the hand signal he rushed over.

"Shall I bring word guv'nor?" he asked with one hand pulling on his greasy hair.

Watson nodded and turned briefly to the wall, he pulled a bit of paper, a rough map actually, out of his pocket, and made two quick marks on it, before turning back and handing it to the boy "here boy, and do hurry," he said, then he added "and here's for you," giving the boy a six pence.

"Thanks guv'nor, he'll get it right soon," the boy said before turning around and running, as if spooked by something.

Ten minutes or so later

"Floooowaaaahs my luvely! Aaaah wanna geeeev yooooo flooooowaaaaahs!" roared a well dressed gentleman appearing to be in his late forties, the object of his affection was a somewhat attractive but heavily painted young woman in a rather daring dress. The reason for his cheerfulness, other than the expected amorous pleasures, seemed to be a small silver flask he held in his left hand, occasionally stopping to drink while hugging the woman closer with his right.

Watson wouldn't normally have paid much attention, such scenes were common at night, even in the best of neighbourhoods, but as the pair passed by him they exchanged knowing glances; It was a clever disguise indeed, since no one would see anything odd about them stopping up for a time and acting weird, or the man waving his arms around while the woman tried supporting him. He was of course a mage of some skill at concealing spells, and together they could take it from here.

After another deep breath Watson cast an eye upwards trying to gauge if it would rain, and then he began his trip home looking forward to a good hot bath and a set of clean clothes.

Bleak Castle
SCI Danton's & SI Watsons' office

The next day

"I still can't see how you managed to guess it Sir," Watson said as he sipped his tea, in the distance they could hear the steady pounding of the rain on the glass, and it felt so good to be inside and not have to leave.

Danton sipped his own coffee, he had even smiled at Morcerf and complimented their secretary on the brew, which was as close to an apology as he ever got "Ah I see, you wish for an elaboration?"

"Well if you don't mind, and it's not secret, then yes Sir I would very much like that."

"Of course Watson, now, where to begin? I began to think that something was odd when I saw at the four places where pamphlets were found, they just didn't fit together, either Marleybone or the Holyland simply did not fit, ah," Danton held up his index finger "but which, and why? Then I realised that they had one thing in common, you may guess what no Watson?"

"The sewers!" Watson exclaimed "of course!"

"Indeed Watson, they are all linked to the same sewer branch, and better yet as you say the Holy Land, the district between St Martin in the Fields and St Giles; it is a rotten place, many old buildings, many buildings built over many a time, and the basements, ah there are so many queer basements there. I think that whenever you dig in this city you find some basement, or some cellar, or tunnel, or something beneath the ground that ought not to be there... you know of what I speak Watson."

"Come now Sir," Watson shifted uncomfortably "Much of that..."

"I speak not of the old wife tales, no no, but of the facts, of old basements found when digging, and here!" he held up his index finger again "I come thinking, many of these places lay in the Holy Land no? There also the sewers come near the surface, so I think that perhaps like the smugglers they are using the sewers to move their things. You describe a barge in the sewers, well I dare say that many honest people would be horrified to learn how many, and what kind, of goods are moved this way beneath their feet."

"So now, I digress, I think to myself where then in the Holy Land would they be? For even along the sewers there is a long stretch, but then I think... these presses, these printers using lasers, they need electricity, and where do you find that in a slum? Well of course you tap into the streetlights, so I check for two things first where the powerlines for the streetlights cross over the sewer line, and here I see two spots. Now then I go into the place and I find that in one spot ten lights are knocked out, and how clever is that? You tap the power without anyone in the powerplant noticing that more than the regular amount is gone, and who will pay attention to news of bad streetlights in the Holy Land?"

"So now I have the spot, ah but what good is this? We raid this press we get one modern press but the rest of them, they fly away, we want them all. So what would make them move? Well if they are linked to the sewers by such methods it stand to reason that they'd fear a sewer inspection, which would be bound to find their methods, and thus... the sewer commission is asked to arrange an inspection."

"Yet I do not know if they will move the cargo up or down, and that is where you come in, for this cannot be trusted to anyone else in case of the surprise. For myself I lay down in disguise before the building where I believe them to be, and I watch, and you watch, and we follow them. Then when you left the sewer, well, you can guess the rest yourself I'm sure."

"Indeed Sir, only thing I don't get is this fellow who's hiding the printer right now," Watson said, he sipped his tea again "why'd he do that?"

"He's a student, an idealist, and not quite the person I would think as being linked to Communists, but..." Danton motioned his hand expressively "that is no doubt why they picked him, for he is brave and dedicated, but alas so tragic he is doomed."

Watson nodded again "Yes Sir, still a damned business, they seem to have their hooks into some of the Quality too."

"Yes indeed, but as I said now it is the espionage, the infiltration of their societies, we've already found a second printer, no doubt a lucky chance, but I've no doubt we'll find the rest soon..." Danton continued to make his notes.

"Almost an anti-climax Sir," Watson suggested.

Danton looked up and frowned a bit "No Watson, not that, we've got our hook into the fish and we're letting it draw out line, but lets not praise ourselves before we've flipped it into the boat, no? For strangely I think the Communists may yet have more up their sleeve."

Pendleton City
Pendleton Archipelago
Erde
August 1005 NE

Various Locations Across the City

It was raining heavily, the thick but warm rains of late summer, and honest people would tend to stay indoors, occasionally peering out through the window and calling out "that awful rain, can't we get some good weather for a change."

Yet throughout the city groups of ten to twenty men in rainproof coats, brandishing pistols, shotguns and even carbines, were making their way through the slippery wet streets. They were grim stern faced men, and beneath the coats the uniforms of the Gendarmes could be seen. Everywhere they went alarms went up, criminals sought shelter, and took a relieved breath when they saw the group go by; the Gendarmes were hunting bigger prey today.

In dozens of places there was a knock, as a stern faced man walked up to a stout door and pounded his fist upon it, then came the call "Open up in the name of the law, this is the Gendarmes, and we have a warrant to search the premises!"

The responses to this challenge varied: in some places the residents would meekly open up and let the Gendarmes storm into the building to search every bureau and bookshelf; in others they would pretend not to be there, or procrastinate, in such cases the warning was shouted out three times and then the man at the door would give a little nod, moments later a stout young lad with a sledgehammer would come and smash the door open; but there were times when a gunshot would ring out, and some slogan be shouted...

A Gendarme fell backwards, clutching his chest or his gut, and then more shots rang out from both Gendarme and Communists; but what came next surprised the Communists, convinced they were fighting primitives, small precise explosions tore openings in the walls, and gendarmes poured in. The fighting was short and vicious but the superior numbers and firepower of the Gendarmes invariably won out.

In one case a suspect continued to struggle madly, braying curses and Communist slogans, but like in many other cases he calmed down after being thrown down a flight of stairs; woe betide those who assaulted the Gendarmes, for being thrown down the stairs was a stroke of luck, more often if the wrong move was made a gunshot would ring out.

Such scenes would later repeat themselves all over the Republic, for these were only the first of the great raids; in many cases documents were burned, and attempts were made to destroy evidence. Such attempts were often futile, mages could recover information even from ashes, and attempts to flush incriminating objects failed as Gendarmes had placed themselves in the sewers collecting everything that came from the houses being searched. It was vile and thankless work, but it did its work.

Here now everything Danton had predicted would be found was indeed found, four laser printers, thousands of pamphlets, flyers, folders, and posters. That and the arrest of dozens of suspected agents, who all spoke English but with the tiniest hint of an unknown accent, it was definitely worrying.

When news of this broke the whole of the Republic was agog; Populists and Demagogues of every variety spread lurid tales of Communist Infiltration; conservative priests blasted condemnations from the pulpit; and even many Radicals & Abolitionists, the two are often linked, shuddered as they recognised names on the lists of the condemned, and immediately moved to condemn the Communists themselves, least they be suspected of sympathising.

All in all it was a most successful witch hunt...