Misha watched Hercule set the tray down and fussily arrange it.  "You are getting breakfast in bed because the Captain asked me to send it to you," he said. "No one really sits down for a decent breakfast, not these barbarians.  That big Yankee, he have only black coffee at dawn, and I put out some fried bread and rolls, they take what they want if they want it.  They sit for dinner.  Rarely for luncheon, I have to make them sandwiches mostly."  The servant sniffed, as if offended by this breach of conduct.  "I know Le Capitan, he is going somewhere; he has told no one but he has sharpened his sword and he has a pack in his quarters where he does not think I will see."  Hercule sniffed again, as if vexed at this too.  He took up his clothes brush and began to attend to Misha's clothes.

Misha relaxed in bed as he accepted the tray and said in a friendly tone, "Well please thank the Captain for his thoughtfulness.  So then, have any of the others been making preparations for "travel" along similar lines as the Captain?  Do you think it will be another raid on the local shipping as before or do you think he has an actual trip requiring disembarkation in mind?  How often does the Hexe make strikes on civilian shipping... daily, weekly or is it too sporatic to actually say?"

Hercule tidied up Misha's clothes while the doctor ate, every bit of a valet of skill.  "I am sure it would be indiscreet to discuss such things, but I will convey your compliment to le Capitan," he said, rather coolly, and Misha had the sense that Hercule did not discuss his employer's business dealings to any great degree, but was perfectly pleased to complain about the barbarians and their lack of 'class' and other foibles of Harry Smith.  Then he set to polishing Misha's shoes.

Misha heard boots in the hallway, and someone whistling loudly and cheerfully as he went along, and noted the long-suffering look from Hercule.  "The big Yankee," the manservant sniffed.  "But he looks after le Capitan."  There was a one-shouldered shrug, as if this was somewhat acceptable.

Hercule was not of any more use, when it came to speaking of the Hexe or her activities, and it seemed the ship's crew was going about their business now.  Misha heard the engines rev and hum to a higher pitch, and felt the Hexe turning slightly, when the manservant took away the empty tray and departed to let Misha dress himself.  Misha opened his door a few minutes later to see the mild-faced, bespectacled Tussaine standing in the corridor, apparently waiting to speak to him.

"Good morning," the man said, in his very good French, and switched to flawless Russian. "May I speak to you, Doctor ?"

Misha only partially masked his surprise at finding Tussaine at his door but he quickly recovered and responded in a polite tone, "Bon jour Monsieur Tussaine.  Of course you may speak with me, as far as I know I have no pressing duties to attend to this morning.  Would you prefer to speak in my cabin or in the infirmary?  Might I ask if this is a personal matter or a medical issue?"

"I would say it is a business matter, but not entirely a medical one,"  Tussaine said, with quiet ease, in Russian that had a St. Petersburg accent.  "We can speak here in your cabin, if you would like."

The 'researcher' calmly polished his spectacles before elucidating further.

"I am sure that, as a medical doctor, you have heard of miraculous cures and other healing that is of a nigh supernatural nature. Indeed, I believe that is why you are here; I know that our Happy Doctor and the Captain argued about such matters, fairly often.  I will disclose to you a secret, Doctor, if you will disclose to me your exact purpose in South America."

Misha allowed Tussaine into his cabin and listened to what the man had to say.

Misha raised an eyebrow at the remarks of the man and shrugged slightly as he responded in a relaxed tone, "Well I don't see that my purpose in South America is really a secret, so I have no objections to sharing my intentions with you.  In a way, it was Silvain who is responsible for me being here on the Hexe... in more ways than one.

Aside from some clues that led me to the Captain, Silvain had discussed a relatively recent medical paper published in a respected medical journal. The paper was written by a certain local Bolivian doctor who apparently had discovered remarkable medicinal qualties in certain local tribal remedies.  Among the reported "cures" was a treatment for bone cancer.

Silvain knew that I have a special personal interest in blood disorders and diseases of the circulatory system.  Since the marrow of the bone is the source of red blood cells, Silvain figured that there might be a link between these tribal cures and certain inherited diseases such as blood clotting disorders."

Misha sighed slightly and added in a slightly depressed tone, "Sadly I never got a chance to truly discuss the matter with Silvain before his untimely death.  I had originally planned to just contact the Bolivian doctor about his work but with Silvain's death... well... I just felt that I owed it to him to see this through personally.  So here I am on a floating pirate ship headed to an unknown land to search of a stranger who might hold the key to a miracle cure.... and they call me a "man of science"?  I suppose in some ways I've allowed my sense of adventure from my youth to cloud my better judgement but it seems too late now to back ou, the only way is forward."

Misha looked at Tussaine with an appraising gaze as he added in a wary tone, "But tell me Dr. Tussaine, why would Silvain and the Captain argue about such things?  It is clear that Silvain believed in these cures and the published work, so I take it that the Captain was the skeptical one?  But why does the Captain doubt the work, does he have a solid scientific basis for his doubts?  While I admit to being skeptical myself, I like to think I have an open enough mind to at least accept that there is a possibility of veracity behind these reports.  So then Dr. Tussaine, I have told you why am I here... what is the secret you wish to disclose?"

Tussaine returned an unreadable look, devoid of any expression beyond polite interest.  He had taken in the story of Silvain with equal aplomb.  "I am sure I could not say," he said, which was not the same as saying 'I am sure I do not know'.

"There is much that is beyond the science that we know.  I am speaking of secrets of life itself, of powers greater than any we can imagine with machines or the will of men alone.  It is something I have researched for many years.  Your interest in this journey is to get a cure, for an illness; mine is something more dramatic.  Do you know how old our Capitan is, Doctor ?  I have uncovered records of him dating back to the 17th century, including records of how he has miraculously recovered from wounds that would kill a normal man twice over."

Misha raised an eyebrow and sighed slightly as he responded in a guarded tone, "Hmm.. 17th Century, making the Captain roughly 2 centuries old more or less?  Well that is interesting but a bit difficult to take at face value without seeing the proofs for myself.  I don't suppose you've talked to the Captain about your suspicions or that he has in some way confirmed your analysis?

Have you even studied tissue and/or blood samples taken from the Captain and compared them with controls?  What is your theory then behind the Captain's longevity and remarkable healing abilities?  I would point out that while it is impressive that his burns did not damage him further, it does appear that the Captain was not able to fully recover from the wounds that have damaged his vocal chords.  Are we talking wound repair or actual regeneration, there is a distinct difference between the two?"

"I believe he is at least 250 years old," Tussaine said, adjusting the spectacles. "I do not need to discuss it with him, since all queries into his personal affairs will raise his ire, which is considerable.  I believe he is immortal, or has gained some longevity of admirable value.  I have seen him take five wounds from a rifle and keep walking, so yes, there is regeneration as well.  It is curious that his throat did not heal properly, but then, would it, if his head was nearly cut off ?  As for samples, I do not have a lab to properly test them."

Misha sighed and responded in an interested but guarded tone, "Well Dr. Tussaine, it is rather hard for me to judge your findings without having seen the documented research or witnessed the evidence with my own eyes.  I do not say I doubt you since I prefer to keep an open mind for the time being, but a good scientist does not accept any theory as fact without proof and perhaps direct observation.

I have to admit that if the Captain does have true regeneration as opposed to simply accelerated wound healing, then there needs to be a better explanation for the damaged throat.  The severity of the wound should not matter if the tissue is able to truly regenerate to its former state of being, while wound healing could lead to scars and permanent residual effects.

I don't suppose you've noticed if the Captain has other scars from other wounds that did not heal properly?  I suppose one possibility could be that it was the specific cause of the injury that prevented full recovery.  Perhaps his miracle cure or regeneration is unable to compensate for burns, though I would still like to know why that would be."

Misha sighed again and then added in a resigned tone, "Now then Dr. Tussaine, if you are correct and there is something in South America which allows the Captain his long life and advanced healing... why would he not make it available to his crew?  Surely members of your company have fallen in battle or been severely hurt due to combat or accident, has the Captain allowed those men to die or waste away without action?  He seems fairly selective and perhaps even protective of you all... so why would he not share his miracle cure with the rest of you?"

Tussaine's gentle expression did not alter.  "I have noticed that he can now see out of his bad eye,"  the man said, still in perfect Russian. "He could not, five years ago.  And I can say that he has not shared much information with any of the crew; there was only one person he told secrets to, to my knowledge, your friend Silvain.  I believe that whatever the Captain has found to give him these advantages lies in South America.  Now, since you are in a position of favour with him, will you help me find out more ?"

Misha sighed and said in a cautious tone, "Well I would be wary of counting too much on my supposed "position of favor"... I'm not so sure just how far that will go.  I am not Silvain, I will never be like him and thus I won't be replacing him in a manner of speaking.  The Captain is showing me courtesy and trust as an honored guest... but that has nothing to do with me personally but rather it is his way of repaying Silvain for the arguements they had in the past.

I'm not sure what if anything I can really do to help but I will keep my eyes open for anything new.  Still, if he hasn't shared the miracle cure with his trusted crewmates, I am somewhat skepitcal of the idea that he will open up to me... aside from my connection to Silvain, I am as good as a complete stranger to the Captain.

Has there never been a member of this close knit and trusted crew who has either gotten gravely ill or been very seriously wounded?  If so, did the Captain stay out of it and this allow the crew member to die without attempting to help with his miracle cure?  Also you mention that he has regained the use of his eye, how long have you been sailing with the Captain and how long and/or how often has he been making trips to South America?  Does he always go to the same area or does he travel to different places?"

Tussaine nodded, with a neutral expression that would have won prizes as 'best poker face'.  "Some have died," he said. "It is the way of a soldier, to meet a sudden death.  Some have been wounded, but the Captain has done nothing besides provide the best medical care possible.  I have been aboard the Hexe since 1920, and he has never gone to South America before. That is why it is significant that he should do so now...and he was planning to, months ago.  He laid in a supply of quinine for the crew last month, and it was a large order...not something easily supplied, but Silvain got it.    I know Captain is planning on leaving the Hexe, for an extended amount of time, and that is also a very rare occurrence. So I think he had plans to take Silvain with him, even back then, but I am not aware of anyone else he will take with him, when he goes."

Misha shrugged and said in a resigned tone, "Well I'll keep my eyes and ears open for anything interesting but I can't really promise you that I'll learn much about this miracle cure.  If the Captain hasn't shared it with his trusted crew, then I don't know if he'll be imparting its secrets to someone who is almost a complete stranger.  True he is taking me to South America because there is a potential cure for a specific disease I am interested in but he is doing this as a final favor for Silvain.  I don't think he feels he owes me much more than that and I certainly would be wary of expecting more.

Besides, if he has kept this secret for so long and has deprived his dying crew of its benefits... what makes you think he won't act to prevent others from discovering it?  I mean, what do you think he would do to keep you from learning this secret?  Or worse... if you do find the miracle cure, what might he be willing to do to you to prevent you from spreading word to others about it?  He does not strike me as a man who would hesitate to act and act decisively to protect was is his."

Tussaine straightened his spectacles, with a brittle smile.  "That is precisely why I am going behind his back, and using all due caution, for I am not a fighter, I am a scholar." the 'researcher' said.  "A secret like immortality, that is one worth keeping, is it not ?"

He withdrew with a polite farewell, leaving Misha to his thoughts.

Oh great... yeah Tussaine, I see quite well... I take all the risks and you grab all the benefits.  A "scholar" eh?  Hmm... sure and that's why you're serving on a pirate ship looking for "buried treasure".  I wonder who else you've told about this... or if there are any others you've talked into this who found there way onto the end of the Captain's blade?  Life seems full of complications lately, at least I shall not be bored for the time being!

Fully dressed and ready to face the day, Misha exited his cabin and casually strolled about the airship.  He wanted to familiarize himself with the vessel.. just in case such knowledge should ever come in useful during a tight spot.

The airship was run with skill and discipline, Misha could see.  The crew left him alone, though many watched him curiously.  He was strolling along the port corridor when he saw a familiar face; Swanson, carrying a large mug of coffee.  "Hey, Doc,"  the ship's main gossip said, with a grin.  "Wanna hear the latest ?"

The mercenary was wearing leather, black leather, and had a shotgun on a harness on his back, as well as two pistols on his hips, but from all appearances this was Swanson's usual clothing.

Misha raises an eyebrow at the display of hardware and says with a wry smile, "Dressing down I see Swanson... just another casual day at the office then?  Well how can I resist the lure of the latest informational tidbits?  Yes I would like to hear the latest... I just how it doesn't involve chucking a certain Russian doctor overboard."

Misha smiled as he waited for Swanson to reveal the newest gossip.

Swanson, unable to resist chattering, immediately set off with his latest 'news'.  "There's a really ugly-looking toe coming to see ya, the Quartermaster's got bad feet, so I reckon your place as Doc is secure,"  he said, grinning. "There's a guy that Harry wants dead and he's offering a bounty, and it ain't nothing to sneeze at.  Le Chat is on the warpath, claims somebody stole some of her baubles.  What'd Tussaine have to say to ya ?"

Misha smiles and responds in a friendly tone, "Well Swanson... you certainly don't miss much that goes on around here.  Tussaine wanted to pry a bit deeper in a not overly intrusive manner as to my reasons for being here and what I was going to South America for.  I guess as a fellow man-of-science, he has an interest in medicine and new medical discoveries... though I really don't have much more than an hunch to work on.  So how did Tussaine react when you asked him... or is your nose for news pretty much well known among the crew already?

As for the Quartermaster, do you know what the problem is... is it chronic or did he do something to his toe to make it worse?  Do you know when he is coming by to see me, I wouldn't want to keep him waiting if the injury is bad.

As for Le Chat, I certainly know nothing about this.. or is this normal behavior for her?  I would hate to think someone with a grudge against me... or perhaps just Russians in general.. would attempt to frame me.  I have no interest on getting on anyone's bad side.  Then again... maybe I just have an overly suspicious mind at times?

Hmm... so the Captain wants someone killed, eh?  Do you know who the target is and why the Captain wants him dead?  I find it odd that he would offer a bounty... the Captain strikes me as the type of man to settle his own debts and scores as it were."

Swanson sipped his coffee.  "Reckon I don't miss much," the man said proudly.  "I don't ask Tussaine much; but I know when he's being sneaky.  He ain't good at that, for all he's the best damn pistol shot on the ship."

He grinned at the query on the Quartermaster.  "He allus had bad feet," was the answer.  "Reckon he'll be along after shift ends.  As for Le Chat, she lost some kind of ear-bauble -" the mercenary pulled at his earlobe, which Misha noticed was pierced. "- So she's madder than a polecat up a post. Who'd want to frame ya ?  And the bounty - get this, it's for some old English feller, a mapmaker...he didn't give a name, just a description. Said we'd find the feller in South America or close to it.  Supposed to be there tonight !"

Misha responded in a guarded tone, "Well I don't know Tussaine very well, certain not like you do, thus I wouldn't know when he is being sneaky... nor why he would be sneaky at this time.

As for who would want to frame me, I did not say anyone in particular would... however I know that my presence here on the Hexe is not looked upon favorably by everyone.  I just find it odd that someone would risk stealing from a person like La Chat, it isn't as if the Hexe was really all that large.  Also I don't get the impression that any of the crew are particularly lacking in material rewards... so why would someone take La Chat's "bauble"?  Has this sort of thing happened before?

So what does the old English mapmaker look like?  Has the Captain put bounties on other people in the past?  By the way, where in South America will we be arriving first?"

Swanson shrugged. "He's a sneaky sort, Tussaine, all that book-learning makes a man funny in the head."  Well, Swanson was not going to win any prizes for Deep Thought.

He shrugged again. "Why ya think someone is trying to frame ya ?  And I dunno, I recollect her going ballistic when she lost a pinkie-ring last year, turns out it got lost in the laundry.  The prissy little valet found it."

Swanson rattled off a description fast enough.  "5'8", heavyset, balding, blue eyes, snarky English accent, scar on back of his neck, scar on right forearm all the way around, carries a gold watch with a rose pattern, fights real dirty, tougher than he looks, worth a hunnert-grand US dollars."  The mercenary grinned. "Captain never put a bounty that big on a man !"

Misha shrugged again and responded in a neutral tone, "Well as I said, I don't know if anyone is trying to frame me... but I just found the timing of this "disappearance" to be a bit overly conincidental.  Also being the only true "stranger" aboard, I suppose I feel a bit defensive.  As to who might try something like that... well I've been told that Mr. Sauber has no fondness for Russians of any kind.

As for Tussaine, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for his "sneakiness".  Thanks for the warning.

Well this English mapmaker sounds more formidable than I would have initially thought.  Aside from the price put on his head, it sounds like this man has done more with his life and just make maps... one doesn't tend to get nasty scars from cartography."

Swanson shrugged.  "Reckon so," he said, in the slow drawl, grinning.

Then a bell rang, five times; there was a slight stir among the crew, some looking out portholes.  "Land."  Swanson said, without a glance. "We're there, or will be soon."

And then a tinny voice came over the sound system, staticy and squeaking. "Docktor Grigorevich, report to the aeroplane bay, please."  Swanson pointed the direction immediately, and seemed to be planning on tagging along.  Small wonder he had so much news, he was probably more nosy than Hercule !