February 1st, 2007

Blimped-Out Ride

Weeks ago, when the first wave of explorers set forth from Caledon, I was privileged to be among their number.  I recall a clockwork doll of the most extraordinary and elegant manufacture, standing amidships wearing a maid's outfit and a chaingun, cheerfully announcing that she might even have some idea how to operate it. 


This lovely automaton of war and house-cleaning was, of course, the ingeniously designed Seven of Seven, and it was my understanding that she was to be our only recourse, should danger lurk or tragedy befall us.


Today, I awoke to discover that my equipment was finally dry, and so I sent up one of my precious three signal-flares.


I had expected that Seven of Seven, watching from some unseen vantage point, would use the amazing (and highly experimental) telelocator to come and rescue me.  That was the plan three weeks ago.  But after the flare had gone up, (and I may add that it burned beautifully, another of Ordinal's triumphs!) I began to question the usefulness of a clockwork doll armed with plenty of firepower but only a single means of egress. 


Many questions vexed me.  Could a single telelocator move two persons at once?  Would I be forced to telelocate to Caledon, thereby ending my excursion prematurely and losing all progress?  Would I be forced to sacrifice an incredibly expensive mechanical lady in order to save myself?  Could the telelocator even be used by me, or was it somehow built-into my spring-driven factotum?


As it happened, these questions were pondered entirely in vain.  For I soon looked up and beheld a sleek, dark dirigible, parting the clouds as it descended.  Truly, this was an awe-inspiring sight, symbolic of mankind's final and complete conquest of over the vicissitudes of life.

A man descended from a rope ladder, and the two of us exchanged tidings.  I learned that he was Mr. Solivar Scarborough, of the Caledon Royal Air Force.  I was overjoyed to meet Mr. Scarborough, until he informed me that he was only on the island for shore leave.  Apparently his Captain had previously suffered a great grevience by a previous civilian passenger.  I argued and pleaded my case, but the man was certian that his commander would hear nothing of taking on a passenger, and storing said ballast amid his precious cargo.  And so it came to pass that after a brief smoke, Mr. Scarborough retired to his vessel, which then departed into the skies, leaving me to my discoveries.


Over the next six hours, I discovered many things.  I discovered that Solivar Scarborough is a villainous n'er-do-well, a reprehensible bounder, and a disreputable cur of magnanimous proportions.  I might have made even more discoveries, (quite possibly concerning Mr. Scarborough 's lineage,) but that's when a second airship arrived, this one piloted by Rafe Wilber of the Royal Caledon Navy, and bearing (as passenger or cargo, as you like,) my good friend and fellow explorer Excalibur Longstaff.



What a rescue!  We immediately launched, and they flew me far to the west, carrying me forever away from that lake's twin demons of aeration and supererogation.  I spoke with Captian Wilber 's crew, and was able to show their cartographer those spots on the mainland which I considered dangerous to fly over.


Not only that, but these adroit and stalwart gentlemen were good enough to accompany me on the next leg of my adventure!  But more on that tomorrow.

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