Making a deliberate effort to stay focused amid her unfamiliar (and uncomfortably lavish) surroundings, Eileen wanders, gauging the interior with a thief's practiced eye. She makes special note of any crawlspaces or means of egress such as the windows.
She also makes an attempt to spot anyone acting strangely, a practice that has typically served her well in avoiding trouble. Here, though, the unusual circumstances and surroundings conspire to throw off her perception of what qualifies as normal behavior. Is that young woman scrutinizing every detail of the ship because she's a conspirator, or is she just another curious, excited tourist? Is that young man loitering in the corner deliberately trying to avoid attention, or is he merely uncomfortable in anticipation of the pending take off?
Discomfited by the unreliability of her carefully-honed instincts, as well as with her feeling of being an impostor in a place that she doesn't belong, Eileen fidgets, avoiding the eyes of the other passengers and nervously correcting the same stray strand of hair as it falls free over and over.
Pembleton makes his way to the Observation Deck exactly on time. It is a trait that he has displayed his entire life, despite living it with his head in the clouds: he arrives, as they say, like clockwork. He peers about, noting Lottie.
"I think I might have ghosts in my blood," she says weakly to no one in particular. "Does anyone have a little bit of cocaine?"
"Are you quite alright, Mrs. Wandsworth?" Pembleton asks with genuine concern, his hand hovering instinctively behind her elbow should she fall. "Perhaps you should sit a moment. Can I can get you a good stiff drink?"
As he looks about for a server, Pembleton wonders in the back of his mind of the woman is faking a delicate constitution. If she is, he approves immensely.
While Lottie goes to relax as Pembleton tends to her - maybe?- ailing constitution, Simon and Eileen get to business.
Eileen tries to ignore the fact she's in pure opulence and instead try to find the patterns of behaviour. What's normal? Normal seems to be well-dressed people chatting pleasantly to each other or marveling at the various (literal) bells and whistles arrayed around the place.
What she does notice is the first mate, Vada, walking over to the bartender and roughly pulling him into a back room. It doesn't look like a pleasant meeting.
----
Simon casts about, looking for somebody he's a little familiar with. Who is not Eustace. Sitting across the room with a few people and enjoying a brandy is Sir Archibald Drake, Member of Parliament for Droitwich. A back bencher, but a ferocious drinker and extremely good cards player Simon has knocked a few back with in the past.
Simon walks in to introduce himself, which gets a hurrah from Archie's table and a full snifter. Pembleton and Lottie are seated nearby and can listen in.
"Simon you marvelous bastard, have a seat! Marvelous ship this is, though not quite that time machine I heard tell of. Sounds like they had a rotten start. Entire crew haven't slept - spent all day and last night looking for some damned thing. They're a miserable bunch. Brandy is good though."
Settling himself into a comfortable seat, Simon graciously accepts the proffered drink: "Thank you, Archie! Very kind of you. Yes, I heard some commotion as we were arriving, do you ... my word, that's nice. Is this a Remy Martin? We shall have to have another in a moment - on me, of course! What do you suppose they are after? The crew, that is. Not looking for hidden treasures on board a new ship, I hope!"
Pembleton flags down a server with the sort of insistent arm-waving only the older generation can be forgiven for. He passes a drink from a tray to Lottie, downing one himself and sitting down beside her so that she has closer access to the conversation.
Having no real interest in the conversation beside them, he tries to decipher how the wind reduction and anti-insect technology work from his seat on the chair.
As a paranoid and suspicious person by habit, Eileen immediately takes note of the back room meeting. Feigning an interest in her surroundings, she gravitates towards the door the two just went through, trying to see if she can overhear anything. She takes up a position near the door and develops a sudden overwhelming fascination with the wall paneling and lighting fixtures.
"Thank you, Sir Pembleton," Lottie says sweetly, accepting the arm and the drink with a dignity she's very pleased she can imitate. "Very kind of you. My poor ol' prayer-bones creak like a rusty gate these days. I think it's the humidity."
Lottie flinches for a moment, remembering a Proper Lady doesn't speak until spoken to, and hopes Pembleton either won't notice or won't mention it. She smiles at him in an attempt to cover the gaff and look the part of a grand old matron. Gingerly, she takes a sip of her drink, eyes closed, appearing by all accounts to be simply savouring the richness of the port.
Lottie is attempting to listen to all of the conversations around her in an attempt to pick out interesting or, more helpfully, relevant information.
"Thank you, Sir Pembleton," Lottie says sweetly, accepting the arm and the drink with a dignity she's very pleased she can imitate. "Very kind of you. My poor ol' prayer-bones creak like a rusty gate these days. I think it's the humidity."
Pembleton smiles back with in a grandfatherly fashion, seemingly oblivious to any social gaffes. "It's the rain for me. I feel it in the knees and the backs of the hands." He elbows her arm gently in a friendly way. "We have to stick together, we old soldiers, eh?"
Taking the seat furthest from the conversation so that Lottie can observe, Pembleton falls quiet and lets her listen in. Even as he looks at the anti-insect technology, he sits with a rigid back and his hands folded in his lap, almost as if waiting to be told what to do.
Archie shrugs. "Not sure, not sure. Sounds like something important, but couldn't imagine it something valuable. This is the maiden flight after all!" There's a distant blast of steam to punctuate his point. "All I know is that there were some of us who were promised an early tour - no such luck I'm afraid. They had the place on shut down and were keeping us good and drunk in the terminal. Crew looked right worried. Still do! You can see the tension on their faces. Captain looks right confident though, and that's what I care about."
----
Lottie settles back and listens in. She hear Archie's conversation with Simon, as well as a few other people sharing the same issues. At the edge of the room, she spots a young man flit by, rushing with some gears in hand. He's in uniform, but he looks sort of familiar. However, he's already gone from the deck, back into the hold.
---
Eileen does her usual good job of appearing inconspicuous as she tilts her head towards the door. The conversation is too muted for her to make out much beyond the tone, but it seems intense. The woman is angry and the man seems to be at the point of tears. Finally you do hear. "Yes, yes. I promise. You can count on me."
You move out of the way just as she bursts through the door to stalk back out, a determined look on her face as she heads for the bow of the ship towards an intricate array of levers and wheels that appear to be for steering. The captain is currently setting up there. Her face changes as she approaches him to an obviously false smile and they begin discussing the takeoff.
Eileen presses her lips together irritably, sparing a glance over her shoulder towards the first mate. She's about to turn to make her way towards the observation deck when she pauses, her brown furrowing. She withdraws the ring she received earlier and makes her way to a corner of the room, feigning fascination in the decor. Positioning her back to the rest of the room, she grasps the ring between thumb and forefinger and rests her hand on her chest. She murmurs in a very low voice, intended to carry no more than a few inches.
"There's someone on this ship trying to stop us from getting to Constantinople. Back in that room, it seemed like you could see an' hear. It'd be good for you an' me both if you'd see what you can notice, an' there may be places I can get you in unseen that I couldn't myself, yeah?"
So as not to appear too strange, she fakes a smile, turning from the wall to take in the other details of the area.
"How very odd! Marvelous wonder, though, isn't it? I'm sure everything's in tip-top shape - perhaps they were just having a final check of everything to make sure we don't come down over Italy."
Chuckling loudly, Simon drops his head and frowns down into his brandy.
They must have been looking for the bomb, he thinks, but I can't mention that here - what a timid fool they would take me for. No, these nobles will not have been troubled with such dirtiness. I'll have to seek out someone closer to the ground (so to speak).
Tipping the rest of the brandy into his mouth:
Damn fine brandy, though. I wonder how many of these we can get through before take-off...
Your ring, which has been silent and inert since arriving at the Aerodrome, warms a little and you can sense the spirit within awakening.
I can, but it is not easy. Do what you will and I will report what I can. Whatever gets us to Byzantium is one piece. I am so close!
===========
Archie shrugs. "Perhaps, I've heard good things about this captain - rough sort of fellow but a fine pilot indeed. And frankly, this Parkes fellow isn't exciting enough to attract much attention. He has his backers though, yes he does."
Smacking his lips after draining his drinks, Simon exclaims: "Indeed! Have you met the man? Parkes, that is - I don't suppose he's on board?"
Lifting his empty snifter, Simon signals for another round of brandy.
The savant does seem to have attracted a certain amount of attention in notable quarters. I don't suppose he's garnered any detractors?"
Archie takes a gulp of brandy. "Hmph, perhaps. I'm not too entirely sure. There has been general grumbling of course. Well set-up man of course, people are going to be jealous. And absolutely! Parkes should be ready for the launch. Can't miss him. Splendidly fat and jowly fellow. Has a sort of sad sack look to him. I suppose he knows if he has any enemies, or other savants and the like."
With a resigned sigh, Eileen moves over to the door to the back room.
"If I set you down," she murmurs, "be ready to observe whatever's going on."
"...an' this is a terrible idea," she adds, placing her hand on the door.
Straightening into what her mind's eye approximates as the posture of a rich person, she pushes on the door and attempts to look inside.
===========
===========
Straightening out her spine a bit and looking like you own the place, you open the door to the back room. It appears to be nothing more than general storage. Bottles of liquor, plates, glasses, silverware and the like. The bartender, rapidly-balding young man, has his back turned to the door and appears to be loading a revolver. He stuffs it into his pants and lets out a shaky breath. "It's for the best."
”I’ll keep my eye out for the man cracking his knuckles ominously ”I have a small matter of a carriage rise to discuss with him...”
Simon will cast his eyes about the crowd for the man described as the savant, or anyone else of interest.
Awaiting takeoff, Pembleton rises from his chair after a time and looks to see if he can find the wind reduction and anti-bug technology.
Lottie chuckles to herself, watching Pembleton. She's surprised that someone of such... starched character and class can be so delightful and for a moment wonders if she's perhaps judged the entire class system a bit harshly. A quick glance around the room at the other travellers makes her realise she hasn't, but maybe she can offer a wee bit of (grudging) respect to her companions.
"I'll be back in a moment," she mumbles to no one in particular. "Needs must."
She wanders casually to where the familiar-looking fellow has disappeared back to the hold. A quick glance about and Lottie is satisfied that no one is watching; she ducks through the door in search of the boy she thinks she recognises. His identity feels like it's on the tip of her tongue, though at her age, she might very well just be mistaking him for a lover from the beautiful days of her youth.
Simon starts casting about and knocks over his brandy glass into his lap. To his chagrin this is noticed and immediately a young man rushes over with a napkin to help dab the spill. Pembleton just gets comfortable and sort of forgets what's going on.
However, events are unfolding. As Eileen stares into a back room and Lottie follows a young man into the hold, the Captain steps forth. Beside him is a pudgy, bald man with watery eyes with a thoroughly depressed expression on his face. Captain Ainsworth speaks in a booming, gravelly baritone.
"My friends welcome to the maiden launch of the Emmanuel!!"
There is applause and a slightly annoying whoop that comes from Sir Pimsoil. The deck is starting to become crowded as people fill up onto it.
"This is the finest airship of its class, surpassing all others in size and luxury, thanks to the ingenious inventions of one of England's most treasured Savants, Lemeul Parkes. We embark for Constantinople as of now. The journey will take a pleasant twenty-two hours depending on weather conditions. Your overnight stay will feature the finest food and drink from both mother England and the exotic spices of the Ottomans. Please do not hesitate to speak with me, my excellent first mate Vada, and of course the staff who are here for -your- comfort. Mister Parkes?"
The pudgy man steps forward, calling out in a slightly nasally voice. "The Emmanuel is my greatest creation. While other savants dabble in the extremes and the dangerous - the madness that brought down the great City of Glass, my aims are for creations that work. Why go to the moon when you can make the earth a more pleasant place, I ask you?"
He gestures around. "The Emmanuel has received the blessings of Queen Victoria herself, for she knows excellence and craftsmanship when she sees it. This is the first open deck airship capable of high-speed travel. My sophisticated disruption field will deflect the wind or fog of clouds and instead leave you free to stand out here as you would on a conventional ship of the sea. Please, enjoy your stay, and enjoy my works. BEHOLD!"
With that, Parkes steps up to the oversized steering wheel and a control panel beside it, and flips a switch. There is a blast of steam and the sound of gears clicking while an electric hum starts building. The hum builds to a crescendo, and suddenly there's a loud BZZZHHHHT.
Suddenly, wind starts to blast the passengers on the deck, sending drinks flying and knocking over a couple of children. With it comes debris and insects as something goes terribly wrong with the disruption field. Captain Ainsworth immediately starts screaming at Parkes while Parkes wails in misery and rushes over to the edge of the deck, trying to figure out what went wrong.
You aren't there for that. You're going into the hold.
You step through a darkened doorway to see a series of metal steps leading downwards. Below here are the several lower levels. The hallways are deserted and you hear cheers from up on the deck. You can continue to try and follow this young man, moving with hurried purpose down the stairs, or confront him.
You're standing in a doorway with your back to the proceedings happening over on the deck, a short jog away. The man loading the gun appears to have started and you have a moment to either confront him or duck away.
"The Emmanuel is my greatest creation. While other savants dabble in the extremes and the dangerous - the madness that brought down the great City of Glass, my aims are for creations that work. Why go to the moon when you can make the earth a more pleasant place, I ask you?"
Pembleton's expresses quiet consternation at Parkes's words, manifesting it in puffing cheeks, airy nosies and a general why-I-never, the-mere-suggestion kind of response to himself. This balloon is better than the City of Glass was? Poppycock! One of the greater brains settling for mediocrity when the edges of science can be tested! It's entirely --
His annoyance (and his unacknowledged jealousy) immediately turns to pity when the disruption field goes down. Hearing Parkes cry out in misery has him move to action, even as one hand holds his hat in place.
"Keep an eye out, Simon!" he shouts into de Clare's ear as he passes the man. "I'll see to the device!"
Stumbling through the crowd, Pembleton pulls his hat down tightly and falls in beside Lemeul, a rolled up pack of small tools unfurling from his inner pocket into his hand. "Parkes! I can help you, sir!" He looks down at the control panel, attempting to diagnose and fix.
Repair, Mr. Fix-It: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Ace!: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Simon stands quickly, the fine brandy forgotten. Giving Pembleton a nod and a thump on the back in acknowledgement of the man's words, Simon peers about the room, hoping to spot someone taking advantage of the disruption (or, failing that, someone in need of help).
Making a split second decision, Eileen decides to play it low-key for now, slipping back behind the door frame. She moves a few steps away from the door and watches it for any sign of the bartender.
Lottie, now more interested in what the lad is up to than how she might know him, follows him as closely as she can.
Sir Pembleton muscles his way up to the front, fighting against the wind. Parkes looks at him with his sad features and doesn't put up a fight. The man looks utterly defeated.
Pembleton starts looking over the failing shield and with the control panel open, he easily identifies and disconnects the power.
BZZZHT
The wind and flying debris abruptly stops, allowing Pembleton a moment to start figuring out what went wrong. It's easy to see that within the controls someone has gone to some lengths to affix an entirely separate device within that appears to have used the power source to propel the wind, rather than resist it.
----
Meanwhile, Simon casts about, looking for a way to be useful. He notices that not too far from him the first mate, Vada, had taken a flying mug to the head and is on her hands and knees with her skull bleeding.
----
Eileen manages to slink away without being noticed and slips back into the crowd as the chaos ends as soon as it started. She spots Pembleton tinkering with the control panel at the front of the ship while Parkes looks like he's about to cry. Only a moment after she exits, the bartender rushes out, looking legitimately confused and panic. He starts trying to clean up the glasses and silverware.
You take a step down the stairs, and your foot clacks loudly. You've been quieter. The teenager quickly turns around, and his eyes go well.
"MISS LOTTIE?!" You immediately recognize him as one of your street boys, an accomplished pickpocket who wound up getting a job.
Leaning over to the woman, Simon extends a hand, offering to help her to her feet: "Oh my! Your day has not been going well, has it? Come now, let's get you sitting. How about a drink, eh?"
Glancing over to where Pembleton is futzing about with the control panel, Simon grunts to himself At least some of these savants seem to know what they're about. Then again...
looking at Vada sidelong, and in a murmur just loud enough for her alone to hear: "...perhaps there is a saboteur aboard."
Pembleton blows out a billowing air of relief through his chubby jowls, bringing the device topside and clapping Parkes on the shoulder. He makes sure both he and the miserable wretch are facing the railing so their backs are to the crowd.
"Nothing you did wrong, sir. See? Someone has added some sort of polarization inverter to your air shield." Not knowing how silly he looks with his hat pulled down so tight, Pembleton peers at the man and pockets the device quickly. His tone is sympathetic.
"Turn and face your public, man. Tell them that some other idiot - don't name anyone, for God's sake - installed your air shield incorrectly and that all is well now. We'll talk immediately afterwards, yes? My name is Pembleton. I am here to help, sir."
Stepping away but remaining close, Pembleton finds Simon's eyes in the crowd and gives him a surreptitious nod that all is well.
Eileen starts to move to rejoin the others, but she hesitates, glancing back at the door to the back room. She observes the bartender for a moment, trying to detect any sign that he's carrying the gun on him.
Eileen can tell there is absolutely a telltale outline where he's stuffed it in his waistband, and he appears quite nervous. Of course, considering the ship just had a minor catastrophe, everyone looks nervous. It does look like he has a gun though. He isn't doing anything with it though beyond moving awkwardly.
---
Parkes looks at Pembleton, nodding with a sigh. "Some blighted bastard has been dogging my steps since I started this entire enterprise. Jealous type I imagine. Let me see that..."
He looks over it and tries his best to look imposing as he turns to the remaining crowd. The captain is red-faced. So is the first mate, but largely because her forehead is bleeding.
He shoots Pembelton a nervous glance. "I... it appears that one of my many underlings installed the (what was it?) polarization inverter upside-down." There's some confusion at his choice of words, but people nod anyways. "A terrible oversight. He will be whipped. Please, allow me once more!"
Parkes leans in and disconnects the polarization inverter the apparent saboteur had connected, and turns the dial. This time, there's a pleasant whhhhhhhhhhhrrr sound and the air shimmers. Suddenly there's no discernible breeze. Outside of the ship, you can see a few insects buzzing towards the ship before being turned away by an unseen force.
Parkes smiles weakly over to Captain Ainsworth, who is apparently trying to murder the Savant with his mind. "Over to you, Captain."
---
Vada nods weakly as she takes in Simon. "You don't say." She makes her way over to the bar, which the bartender Eileen was watching is busy cleaning up. She swipes a bottle bites out the cork, and takes a swig before passing it to Simon. "I see you're a true gentleman," her voice is a mixture of Indian and received British pronunciation - typically the mark of the well-educated.
She kicks out a chair and sits down, groaning as she clutches the gash on her head. She drops her voice in turn. "Vadasseri Pillai Karthyayani Pillai Kochamma, although the Captain likes to call me Vada so let's proceed with that. Tell me who you are, and if you know anything, sir."
Eileen eyes the outline of the gun, her fingers twitching. After a moment's consideration, however, caution prevails, and she navigates through the malfunction's aftermath towards Simon. As much as she can, she observes the bartender out of the corner of her eye the whole time.
Noticing that Simon is in conversation with Vada, she veers off slightly at the last moment, and as she passes the bartender, she stops. Adopting her best attempt at a passably educated manner of speech, she asks, "Do you need help? Should I get someone?"
Pembleton, removing his now comically-worn bowler from his head and re-adjusting it, almost snatches the device back from the shaken Parkes as the scene returns to normal. He leans in to the man and speaks in his ear.
"There is indeed a saboteur at work. My friends and I took a carriage of your design here and were nearly killed in it... my inspection revealed it had been tampered with. The questions are who and why." He claps a hand down on Parkes's shoulder firmly to turn and lead him away. "Let us talk privately for a moment - no time to spare."
Pembleton tries to steer Parkes to a more secluded area, half-letting him lead as he looks for Simon - and, seeing Eileen now, waves them both over emphatically.
Deeply flattered (if somewhat skeptical - nobody who's known Simon for more than ten minutes has ever referred to him as a 'gentleman'), Simon tips the bottle and his head to the first mate: "Simon de Clare, at your service. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Vadasseri. My companions and I...
and here he gestures vaguely toward Miss Eileen and, seeing Pembleton's enthusiastic gesturing, holds up an impatient 'in a minute' finger to the man "know precious little, except that we've been asked to accompany the Emmanuel and keep an eye out for trouble. Well,
taking another swig before passing back the bottle "That and we were almost killed by Parkes's ridiculous auto-carriage. But I see my savant will not be deterred. Come, if you are well enough to stand, join us for a quick conference."
With Lottie still in the hold, the three of you gather up with Vada who shouts "WE TAKE FLIGHT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! Clean up this mess!". Captain Ainsworth sputters at her giving orders before he has, but all of you take off towards Parkes quarters. Parkes looks genuinely intimidated by Vada, but allows her to accompany you.
Once in the room, Parkes pours himself a lot of scotch, collapsing into an armchair. He is bathed in sweat and stammering.
"Vada I'm sorry, but you know as well as I. I'm no incompetent like the Captain thinks. Someone is sabotaging me! This gentleman just said that my horseless carriage tried to kill them!" He takes a swig. "That's a step further - nothing has been lethal so far. Just... just broken. NOthing that prevents the launch, but enough to cause great chaos! Did you know there was a..."
Vada cuts him off. "Bomb threat. Nothing to be found. But enough to cause the entire crew to miss sleep and work an additional ten hours after we confirmed to the captain that there was no damn bomb."
With Lottie still in the hold, the three of you gather up with Vada who shouts "WE TAKE FLIGHT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! Clean up this mess!". Captain Ainsworth sputters at her giving orders before he has, but all of you take off towards Parkes quarters. Parkes looks genuinely intimidated by Vada, but allows her to accompany you.
Once in the room, Parkes pours himself a lot of scotch, collapsing into an armchair. He is bathed in sweat and stammering.
"Vada I'm sorry, but you know as well as I. I'm no incompetent like the Captain thinks. Someone is sabotaging me! This gentleman just said that my horseless carriage tried to kill them!" He takes a swig. "That's a step further - nothing has been lethal so far. Just... just broken. NOthing that prevents the launch, but enough to cause great chaos! Did you know there was a..."
Vada cuts him off. "Bomb threat. Nothing to be found. But enough to cause the entire crew to miss sleep and work an additional ten hours after we confirmed to the captain that there was no bomb."
As Parkes talks, Eileen slips unobtrusively to Pembleton's side. She nudges him gently with her elbow and turns so that her face is obscured from Vada's view. She busies herself making some small, pointless adjustments to Pembleton's attire as she cranes her head and whispers.
"Overheard her an' the bartender. She was giving him what for an' he said ta count on him. Looked in and caught 'im loading a pistol an' looking shook up."
Her useless sartorial corrections apparently finished, Eileen flashes Pembleton a quick, guileless smile, turning her attention back to the central conversation with a look of wide-eyed, innocent interest.
Pembleton blinks twice, pauses a moment and finally offers Eileen a slight nod of his now-cocked head. It's a grandfatherly look that seems to say he's quite impressed by Eileen and not in the least bit surprised to be so. Tilting his head to the door and making a locking motion with his wrist, he turns to the group.
"You've been seen giving another crew member a firearm," he says matter-of-factly to Vada, "and that he has sworn to back you up in some fashion." He makes no move for his own weapon, hanging as it us under his arm inside his jacket. "To what purpose, madam? Explain yourself, please."
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"Ah! My darling Phillip!" Lottie gasps in surprise. "I thought I recognised your dear face! Oh sweet child! It's been some time since I last set eyes to ye. You've grown so much! The last time I saw ye, ye'd have fit in a pie tin, hat and all!" She beams at him. Her attempts at a more sophisticated accent are gone and she speaks more like a woman from the grimier side of the tram tracks.
"What'd've ye been up to, lad? I see ye've landed yerself a damn fine job here on this magnificent contraption! Take a wee break, tell me how they're treatin' ye here."
No longer sure who is interrogating whom, Simon leans against one wall of the cabin, arms crossed, a finger and thumb of one hand stroking his chin.
He rushes over to her, his arms laden with various different parts he was rushing to and fro. He awkwardly lays them down to give you a hug. "Oh Miss Lottie! S'been a while since I was out on the streets. You kept me fed and I'll always remember that! Wh... what are you doing here? It's mad to see you on this ship. Once you got me that job at the tea shop I worked me way to the shipyard and got aboard here as a gopher. Captain is a right mean sort, worked us to the bone all last night looking for some uh, thing!" He looks a little evasive and trails off as he finishes his sentence.
There is deathly silence in the room as Pembleton cuts right to the matter. Parkes looks over to Vada, his forlorn face going white. "Is it ..."
Vada looks at all of you, a flash of rage crossing her face before she carefully composes herself. "We..." She chooses her words carefully. "Have reason to believe that there may be danger on board. Agents of whomever has been sabotaging Parkes' work. I am not entirely sure I trust the Captain and as such was preparing select crew members for the worst." She grits her teeth. "You do know if you run to that man with this information the flight is not going anywhere."
As you watch this closely, you're fairly sure Parkes has no idea what is going on. Vada sounds like she's covering her ass.
"What's wrong, pet?" asks Lottie gently. "Is it something I can procure? I know a great many people that owe me a favour or two. And I promise I won't breathe a word to a single soul if it'll get you in your captain's good graces. We can orchestrate it so that no one needs to know about this little ol' gran."
She winks conspiratorially at Phillip, knowing full well that she needs to keep the mission above all else. The boy's safety is a very close second - once one of Lottie's children, always one of Lottie's children.
"But if the captain is hurting you or being otherwise, ah, untoward, I won't hesitate with a right swift anointing. I'll not have anyone hurting one of my children."
Lottie watches Phillip for a reaction then hugs him tightly once more.
"Ol' Lottie is always lookin' out for ye, m'love."
An unreadable expression briefly flickers across Eileen's face, but in a blink, her expression has returned to the look of naive innocence she'd worn a moment before.
She watches Vada with wide, childlike eyes, all the while trying to assess whether she, too, might be carrying a weapon. She then glances to Simon and Pembleton as if naturally deferring to them.
Simon rolls his eyes at the savants: Would it kill them to be the slightest bit circumspect? Ah well, as long as we're being rude...
Pushing himself from the wall, Simon places himself between Vada and the exit: "Miss Vadasseri, if you continue to keep information from us, we are likely to suspect you. It sounds very much like you are preparing a mutiny. I think perhaps it is time to tell us what you know, and what you are planning."
Pembleton, constantly dragged kicking and screaming into the world of societal norms and finding only shiny things to look at each and every time, remains blissfully unaware now. He nods his head at Simon's words, looking indignant.
"Indeed! And who exactly the 'we' is you are referring to."
Eileen feigns surprise at this turn of events, trying to fade into the background as much as is possible in a closed room with only four people. She attempts to look as unimportant and useless as she can while continuing to watch Vada closely.
Eileen continues to play the part of clueless child whilst eyeing the very nice revolver on Vada's side. She also notices a dagger in her boot, and some sort of fancy ring that has some sort savant-ish purpose.
Parkes looks at Vada with wide eyes. "WERE YOU THE SABO--"
Vada slams her mouth across the fat man's face, hissing. "I was not the saboteur. You think I know enough about your contraptions to sabotage them??"
She blows out her cheeks and settles down, looking at you all evenly. In the distance, you can hear the captain hollering. "Our time is short for now. Look... I..."
Her eyes dart around and she starts speaking quickly, her Indian accent becoming thicker as she rants. "He's a bastard! An evil man. I left my family for this, I left a good life, and can never go back. And I work for HIM." She spits. "He is a brute. He leers at the bartender you saw me speak to and many others. He hits the young ones. I have flown with him before and almost killed him for his insults to my people. I signed up under a different captain who was replaced and it would ruin my career to quit two days before the maiden voyage.
So yes. The crew and I were planning to take the ship from him. Put him in that little jail we have, or overboard if he did not cease. I can guarantee it would be a more pleasant flight than what he could offer."
She stares daggers at all of you. "So what are you going to do about it?"
You once more hear the captain hollering for her.
He seems relieved. "He's so mean Miss Lottie! He hits us if he can and works us harder'n is fair or right." He drops his voice. "Miss Vada is talking about doing something about it though! Maybe you talk to her and she'll have some ideas!"
He awkwardly grabs the various parts he was carrying. "I'd best get back to work before I'm whipped though. You need anything, you let me know! I owes ya!"
Pembleton blinks in the silence, as he often does before speaking. He is, as ever, straightforward to the point of being blunt.
"Stop you, for one." His face is flat. "I realize I am not the one who best suited to talk to you on our collective behalf, madam..." There is a brief flash as he admits one of his flaws. "... but you have contemplated mutiny and murder, and armed some of the crew to do so. This cannot stand. You clearly have not thought this through: if you imprison or murder the Captain, your career ends up in no better a state than it would if you quit. Far worse, in fact. Your plan is literal nonsense."
He steps forward towards her one pace. "Whatever else happens from here - and we can discuss that later, for you are being called and should attend, I think - I'll have your weapon first. Someday you may thank this old man for stopping you from committing the worst mistake of your life. The taking of a life, no matter how wretched... is never righteous, and only infrequently necessary."
Pembleton holds out his hand, palm upwards, for the weapon he knows she has. He has not needed to spot it; in his mind, if Vada gave the bartender a gun, she has one herself. His voice is a little softer.
"Trust me. I know."