herself, he turned on the opti-telegraphic in his hand. He was rewarded with silence and only a small amount of static.
"They could just have their opti turned off. At least we're onta somethin' though. The statics not nearly as rough now." Tonks commented as he managed the small balloon and relay device.
Hunter watched the balloon quietly a moment. "True. Keep at it Mr Wilkerson. I think you're onto something."
"Cap'n?" Tonks asked. "What about that other signal?"
The captain's thoughts turned over the options available in his mind. "We have no idea who that is or what they want. It could be nothing or something. Keep trying to get the shore party on the opti. I'll chart a course to where that signal in the Fens came from. If we decipher their code and the next words from them are a cry for help, then we'll made our course there straight away."
"If they don't?" Tonks asked before the captain walked out of hearing range.
Hunter paused and glanced at Tonks over his shoulder a moment. "Then at least we'll know they are coming. Carry on, Mr. Wilkerson."
Chapter 8
C loser to the heart of the station, where the shorter buildings came close to the over-sized steam engines, O'Fallon slipped through a near-windowless, poorly lit storeroom draped in long, blended shadows of gray and black. The room was filled with wooden crates, stacked at such random locations and heights that the only path through the room was a twisted maze. At the far side of the room from where he had first entered, the quartermaster paused next to a particularly tall stack of crates and looked behind him.
In the darkness he could make out the forms of Krumer, Thorias, Moira, and even the small blur of Arcady who circled overhead near the ceiling. Satisfied, O'Fallon turned around and skirted the edge of the crates. Just past lay the wall and in it, another of the countless doors they had found on their long trip from the barracks almost an hour earlier. Like the others, this was an old, grey wooden door held to the wall by brass hinges.
"Another door." O'Fallon said just loud enough for the others to hear him.
"We ought ta be near the engines by now." Moira said wearily while she walked along the narrow path between crates.
Krumer moved, around the tall stack of crates to catch up to where O'Fallon stood. In the meantime the quartermaster carefully turned the latch. With a muffled click, it released its hold on the door frame. O'Fallon eased the door open slowly and looked outside.
"Ye be right, lass." O'Fallon said with a smile. "Chambered door ta the engines right here."
Along the entire walk, they had not encountered any more of the station crew, deceased or otherwise. However, the lack of danger was no celebration for Krumer. He had long ago been raised to be more alert, aware and cautious when the expected danger did not present itself. The orc looked around at the cramped room and then back at the open door with O'Fallon next to it.
"Any sign?" The first mate asked in a blunt tone.
O'Fallon looked down, then around at the door frame. "A wee bit. They're bein' careful here." He pointed to a faint set of boot marks in the shadowy grime that lay between their door and the door to the station's main steam engines. The gap was merely a ten foot wide alley that stretched between the storehouse and the center structure that contained the station's steam engines.
"See? At other doors, they be careful, but here, they be stoppin' short and steppin' ta either side a'fore doin' a thing." The quartermaster shrugged. "Then they wander about a bit, then make their way around the outside. Didna seem interested ta go in."
Moira looked over both Krumer and O'Fallon's shoulder through what open space there was. "Or the door would na budge fer them."
"More importantly, are they close by now?" Krumer asked quietly.
O'Fallon shook his head. "Na here, that be for sure. Where they be now, Ah couldna say."
Krumer frowned and looked out the door again.
"They could just have their opti turned off. At least we're onta somethin' though. The statics not nearly as rough now." Tonks commented as he managed the small balloon and relay device.
Hunter watched the balloon quietly a moment. "True. Keep at it Mr Wilkerson. I think you're onto something."
"Cap'n?" Tonks asked. "What about that other signal?"
The captain's thoughts turned over the options available in his mind. "We have no idea who that is or what they want. It could be nothing or something. Keep trying to get the shore party on the opti. I'll chart a course to where that signal in the Fens came from. If we decipher their code and the next words from them are a cry for help, then we'll made our course there straight away."
"If they don't?" Tonks asked before the captain walked out of hearing range.
Hunter paused and glanced at Tonks over his shoulder a moment. "Then at least we'll know they are coming. Carry on, Mr. Wilkerson."
Chapter 8
C loser to the heart of the station, where the shorter buildings came close to the over-sized steam engines, O'Fallon slipped through a near-windowless, poorly lit storeroom draped in long, blended shadows of gray and black. The room was filled with wooden crates, stacked at such random locations and heights that the only path through the room was a twisted maze. At the far side of the room from where he had first entered, the quartermaster paused next to a particularly tall stack of crates and looked behind him.
In the darkness he could make out the forms of Krumer, Thorias, Moira, and even the small blur of Arcady who circled overhead near the ceiling. Satisfied, O'Fallon turned around and skirted the edge of the crates. Just past lay the wall and in it, another of the countless doors they had found on their long trip from the barracks almost an hour earlier. Like the others, this was an old, grey wooden door held to the wall by brass hinges.
"Another door." O'Fallon said just loud enough for the others to hear him.
"We ought ta be near the engines by now." Moira said wearily while she walked along the narrow path between crates.
Krumer moved, around the tall stack of crates to catch up to where O'Fallon stood. In the meantime the quartermaster carefully turned the latch. With a muffled click, it released its hold on the door frame. O'Fallon eased the door open slowly and looked outside.
"Ye be right, lass." O'Fallon said with a smile. "Chambered door ta the engines right here."
Along the entire walk, they had not encountered any more of the station crew, deceased or otherwise. However, the lack of danger was no celebration for Krumer. He had long ago been raised to be more alert, aware and cautious when the expected danger did not present itself. The orc looked around at the cramped room and then back at the open door with O'Fallon next to it.
"Any sign?" The first mate asked in a blunt tone.
O'Fallon looked down, then around at the door frame. "A wee bit. They're bein' careful here." He pointed to a faint set of boot marks in the shadowy grime that lay between their door and the door to the station's main steam engines. The gap was merely a ten foot wide alley that stretched between the storehouse and the center structure that contained the station's steam engines.
"See? At other doors, they be careful, but here, they be stoppin' short and steppin' ta either side a'fore doin' a thing." The quartermaster shrugged. "Then they wander about a bit, then make their way around the outside. Didna seem interested ta go in."
Moira looked over both Krumer and O'Fallon's shoulder through what open space there was. "Or the door would na budge fer them."
"More importantly, are they close by now?" Krumer asked quietly.
O'Fallon shook his head. "Na here, that be for sure. Where they be now, Ah couldna say."
Krumer frowned and looked out the door again.
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