"Oui M'sieur," the Directeur replies to Dash. "That is what I am endeavoring to do, but, it is not easy."

"Events have taken on a certain amount of momentum. It will not be easy to stop. I am not sure the Queen will heed my warnings. You know there is a bomb, I know there is a bomb, but even if we point it out to the Queen, she may not accept it. It is beyond her expertise."

"Short of an explosion itself, she will insist on continuing with the ceremony."

"If I physically restrain her, if I can overcome her guards to do so, and the bomb never explodes, my career, perhaps my very freedom, will be over. That is of no concern to me if I save the Queen's life."

"She will think foreigners disrupting this fair is an attempt to undermine her rule."

"My men have searched all the surrounding grounds. They were not to touch anything that they found that might be suspicious, but call someone over to inspect it. We have not found any other bombs."

She glances up at the bleachers, then over to the other one.

"I can understand how all the boards in the bleachers can be explosives, but I cannot comprehend the size of the explosion caused by that much. I have never experienced an explosion that large, never seen the results of one."

"I have seen reports of the powder magazine of a ship exploding, and turning the ship into so many toothpicks. This seems like it would be bigger. 300 meters? Perhaps greater than that? We would lose both wings of the building."

"Oh, hell!" Mercy swears as she sees the condenser.

"It's a condenser. It stores electricity," she explains to Marian. "That's how they plan to detonate the bombs. No detonator. Well, not a normal one."

"They probably have several wires leading from the condenser to the explosives, so even if we cut one of them, the electricity still might go through another one that we missed."

"I guess we have two options... figure out somewhat to disable the timers... or come up with some way to fill the gap to keep the electricity from discharging."

"They seem to have anticipated that, though, by hiding the gap. If we had a liquid insulator, we could just pour it into the mechanism. Mineral oil usually works."

"Wait! I think I have an idea! I don't suppose you have any cosmetics on you, do you? Like, cold cream?"

I have lotion, would that work? Marian asks desperately. If her hands are free she'll rummage violently through the small pack that hangs off her belt, as though the bleachers would explode at any moment without it. It's a bit thick perhaps but we could water it down maybe?

"No, no, don't water it down!" Mercy explains. "Water conducts electricity! The less water in it, the better insulator it will be. Whether we can use it will depend on what its ingredients are. Does it say any of them on the bottle?"

"If it doesn't, then smell it. I know they often add perfume to lotions to hide the mineral smell, but the stronger the mineral smell, the more mineral oil, and the less conductivity."

"Once we've poured the lotion into the mechanism, it should flow to fill the gap. We can then pour sand into the clockworks. The combination should clog up the works quite nicely."

Marian nearly jumps at Mercy's response. She was extra skittish considering the circumstances and her reaction combined with her embarrassment for such an ignorant comment makes her blush. She pulls out the bottle. It's in french....give me a moment... she squints at the tiny writing on the bottom of the jar. Hm....citron....vanille...lanoline...There! Huile minerale! she exclaims in triumph. Mineral oil! It's all yours! she thrusts the jar at the woman, eager to do anything to help. Thank goodness for her dry hands! She never would have thought such a nuisance would prove useful.

One of the qualities of clockwork mechanisms is that they had to have space between the gears to allow them to move. It didn't have to be much of a gap, but it was still enough to let liquid... or lotion... to ooze between them.

Fortunately, the device was small. Mercy poured the jar onto the device, hoping she wouldn't have to use it all, although Rosabelle might have some lotion, too.

When she could see the lotion dripping out the other end, she figured that was enough to fill the gap, but poured a bit more to be on the safe side.

"Now I need some sand to gum up the works."

"As soon as you get that, take the lotion over to Connor and explain what I'm doing."

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 725):

Seeing his friends' progress on the bombs, Grimsby told the Vril, "You can see your silence is gaining nothing. Our brilliant technicians can disable the bombs without you, and you will have no chance for a triumphant reincarnation this time. You will remain in this flesh, and your future will be a Bourbonian prison, or worse unless you provide us with some reason to seek clemency from the monarch you nearly assassinated. If you can tell us where your friends may be and what they may be doing, we might persuade the Directeur to recommend mercy."

In reply to Colette Forget (msg # 730):

Dash nods in understanding as La Directeur explains her difficulties - Dash has several older relations in the Family Company who behave the same way.

"I see, and I understand, Madam." Dash says, "As you can see, my companions are disabling the devices that would have initiated the explosions, however, the two explosive compounds - Dynamite and Nitrocellulose - are both rather unstable materials. They will remain dangerous, even after the detonation devices are disabled."

"Perhaps...perhaps, if the Queen is refusing to delay or relocate the ceremonies from here, we could, instead, relocate the bench seats, once the detonators are disabled? Are the stands on wheels? Could we get enough Gendarmes to just lift the stands and walk them away? Just somewhere in the middle of a field would be sufficient, I would think. A convenient, nearby cliff overlooking the ocean would be better."

Marian nods, and hurriedly takes the lotion to the cat-man, speaking a mile a minute. There's a...gap...need to fill it! Use this to pour it in the mechanism. DON'T water it down no matter what you do! But then you probably knew that. Everyone probably knows that. Stupid, stupid, stupid Marian! Oh! And sand! We need sand! she thrusts the jar at Connor and starts looking left and right as if sand will magically appear. Admittedly her nerves were getting to her.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 736):

Bellgrove says nothing while standing expectantly, but his demeanor suggests utter confidence in his comrades.

"I don't know... how many men do you think it would take to carry one of the sections?" she asks.

"It took several days to assemble them, so I don't know if that might work."

"I'm trying to think of a way to move them through the streets, though... streets are narrow. There's such a cliff to the north, but I don't think you could get them through the narrow doorways and such."

"Wait! What about your airship? Can it lift them and then dump them into the sea? The water will dissolve the material, won't it?"

Meanwhile, Grimsby and Bellgrove are not getting any cooperation from the Vril they've captured.

"You cannot stop all of us," the man says, clearly not intimidated by their demeanor or threats. "There is more than one way to set off the bomb without the detonators. If you leave now, you can save yourself."

Bellgrove nods in agreement and replies in a sympathetic tone, "Oh, quite so, I am sure. Of course, the Directour knows about the 'Safety Inspector' routine you boys work.

"And we've got your ship and killed most of the crew having tricked them into blowing themselves up on trapped entrance to the hangar. Maybe you heard the explosion?

"You folks are having a hell of a time with bombs today!

"Don't worry, though, the Captain is safe and we were able to have a chat about things and the good Professor is also safe. With this you can imagine the breadth of our understanding of matters, I suppose....

"But, yes, maybe you'll have better luck with the, uh, 'gate gun'!"

In reply to Colette Forget (msg # 740):

A hopeful expression lights Dash's face,

"I'm not sure about our Raven, but I believe the Black Zeppelin of the Vril may have greater lifting ability. The person to ask would be Captain Remi."

Dash quickly makes a decision,

"Madam La Directeur, I shall hurry back to the Aerodrome and consult with Captain Remi. If we can get either airship over here quickly, we shall do so. I recommend that you stay here, so that if my comrades who are disassembling the detonators should need anything, your authority can back them up. Also - and Madam, I do not mean to beat a dead horse, here - if you can delay the Queen in any way...?"

With a nod to the Directeur, Dash races off, back to the Aerodrome.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 741):

Grimsby answered grimly, "I assure you we are as dedicated to foiling your vile plots as you might be to carrying them out. We will not abandon our duty even if we must risk our lives."

Rosabelle looked up as the other woman raced up the grandstand.

Oh, that's brilliant! she exclaimed as Marian shoved the lotion at Connor.

She clambered to her feet, holding her skirt awkwardly out of the way. She may be accustomed to working in a lab, but she didn't often have to sit in such low seats.

Let us go find some sand! she said to Marian as she started down the steps.

Mercy came up with it of course she explains with a blush. As soon as the jar was in Connor's hands she is off like a shot with Rosabelle. Yes! Good idea! she exclaims, eyes already darting this way and that.

She'll look quite frantically for any sand and ask around if none jump out at her.

In reply to Marian Holroy (msg # 746):

Rosabelle follows Marian, lifting her skirts much higher than was polite so that she could run more easily. As they ran she thought about where they might find sand. A couple of ideas came to her.

Stables! she gasped, nearly tripping as she lost hold of one side of her skirts. Thorn nearly tipped off her shoulder, but righted itself with a small flutter of its leather-covered wings. For the horse stalls, or...there might be buckets of sand around the vendors in case of fires! Why don't you go to the exhibits and look? They would be prominently visible, especially around the food vendors I would venture. I will check the other.

Noticing Denholm with the police woman, Rosabelle peels off from Marian and darts in their direction, hoping the woman would be able to direct her to either a nearby stable or any other place that might have sand.

Marian heads to the vendors, only a few of them open at this point, mostly doing prep work, as there aren't many customers around yet--just guards and workers. Several of the vendors do, indeed, have buckets of sand hanging near their stoves. While electrical fires aren't commonplace yet, grease fires are.

She doesn't need to take the whole bucket, just a few handfuls... or cupfuls. Marian has enough sense not to mention a bomb, but finds a suitable emergency 'excuse'.


Meanwhile, the Directeur tells Rosabelle that there are sand buckets in strategic places in the nearby building, and hurriedly escorts Rosabelle to the nearest one to fetch a bucket.


Grimsby and Bellgrove are still frustrated by the Vril, who refuses to cooperate or even say much. So far, the bomb has not gone off, and your compatriots are still working on it, apparently, rather than everyone having fled the scene.

From his current position, Grimsby can't see the other side of the grandstands, though, and remembers that the other Vril was going to circle around to the other side and set off the bomb manually, if necessary.

Grimsby says to Bellgrove "If you can watch our uncommunicative captive here, perhaps I can look for his companion, to make sure he does not set off the bomb. If I can catch him, perhaps he will be more willing to talk."

"Perhaps it is wiser to turn this fellow over to the Directeur and let her know that his comrade is wandering about as if he is an inspector? We know where he is heading next, so may head him off at the pass, but without official clearance, which it seems he can at least fake, we are at the disadvantage even if we manage to catch him."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 748):

Not having anything with her in which to scoop up sand, Rosabelle instead dumps half the bucket on the ground, then carries the rest back to the grandstands. She stumbles and trips over her skirts several times, unable to hold them out of the way while carrying the still heavy, half-filled bucket of sand.

Mr. Holmes, she calls as she approaches. Mercy! I have sand. Marian is bringing more. Panting with the exertion, she hopes one of them will come help with the bucket. She also thinks seriously about dispensing with her skirts. Why had she never thought of doing so while working in the lab? They were always in the way, but she'd been raised to be a lady, for the most part. She didn't really have the social skills, but she knew what ladies were meant to wear, at least.

Marian will look around for something to put the sand in, and should she find nothing will pull her top skirt up and carry the messy load that way.

She half runs back to the others, making sure not to spill even as she makes haste. There are a couple close calls for sure but she manages to keep most of her cargo.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 750):

Grimsby replied, "I agree as far as turning this fellow over to the Directeur goes -we cannot seem to get anything out of him, and she may have more resources for interrogation. But if she could give us temporary credentials, I would like to seek out the second Vril. I should think her approval would override whatever the villain might try to say for himself."

"Many thanks, you're both angels," Connor murred softly with a slight smile in Rosabelle and Marian's direction, his metalli-silver streaked brown headfur all mussed up looking as he accepted the mineral oil and a scoop of sand as Marian explained what needed to be done, filling in the gaps with his own tinkerer know-how as he got to work.

"A little mineral oil to isolate the electrical contacts from conducting any current or spark...give it a tic to set in...Then a generous heaping of sand to seize the clockwork..."The tiger-man muttered to himself as he gingerly poured in the mineral oil first, then the sand, to where they were both needed, then, his long tail scything agitatedly behind him, Connor stepped back, his feline ears pricked up and listening to the sound of the bombs mechanisms and silently hoping for the best.

"That ought to do it, then again it may not..."