As Robert looks toward the sniper hide, he sees a glint of metal, and a bit of red cloth appear in the same spot.

Robert points out the color. "I will make another distraction and you fire at them.  You are the best shot with the rifle." He pulled off his shirt and rolled it in a ball.

"Yes, my love." Louis steps up to where she can see the sniper, and braces herself on a rock. "I am..." BOOM!

Louis' rifle barks, and she waits for a few heartbeats before letting out a sigh. "I hit him, I am sure of it." She turns to look at Robert with a sad expression. "He saw you, and was bringing his own rifle to bear."

There is nothing about killing she likes, Robert knows.

Robert made his distraction and then only flinched slightly as Louis fired.  He leaned over and cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "It's a harsh world darling.  I'm sorry for dragging you into this although it seems that we've been in the center of a maelstrom since we first met."  He smiled a bit.  "To be with you I'll take all that chaos and more."

Sighing Robert looked around.  "I think we can move up now around the flank of the last one."

Time: 1426

As Robert looks to the northwest, he sees a speck on the horizon, just to the north of the sniper's hide, in the direction of Avenel.

OOC: Is there a good way to approach?

As he watches, the speck resolves itself into an Aphid-class British gunboat, which is steering on a course to pass just north of them.

"The gunboat Louis," he broke out their other rocket.  "We'll use the approach as a distraction to get close enough to deal with him."  Working quickly Robert set up and fired their signal rocket.

The ship doesn't change course immediately, and then Robert sees it bear a few points south, steering to pass perhaps a hundred yards east of them. It's not yet close enough for Robert to see details, being some six hundred yards away.

"That's a different ship, isn't it?" Louis asks.

Robert looks closely and pulls out his telescope.  "I think you may be right.  They should still respond to the rocket."

As the couple watches, the gunboat comes ever closer, angling more toward them, but holding its altitude at a hundred feet as it approaches. Soon, Robert can make out the crew manning the ship's single light cannon and several machine guns. None of them are pointed right at them, but the crew is clearly ready for action.

The aircraft draws to within thirty yards, coming to a full stop. At a hundred feet long, with its weapons and riveted iron armor plating over its vitals, the gunboat is imposing at this distance. Unlike many Martian vessels, she has no mast or sails, depending instead on her propeller for movement. The boiler hisses out a cloud of steam as the pilot reduces power on the propeller at the ship's stern, and the liftwood vents at the bottom of the hull move rapidly to stabilize the ship at rest.

These are, Robert knows, the largest warships in the British Navy on Mars, and there are only a half-dozen in service.

The starboard side machine gunner peers around his mounted five-barrel Nordenfeldt, his tanned visage alert under his shock of brown hair, topped by a dark blue British Navy (Aerial Branch) beret.

A short, blocky petty officer steps into view, and deep male voice calls to them. "Ahoy there! Are you Commander Robert Darlington?"

Robert stands as the ship approaches, careful to not expose himself to gunfire.  "Ahoy the ship!  "I am Commander Darlington and my wife Mrs. Darlington is here with me.  What ship?"  He gazes admiringly at the well built and beautiful lines of the airship.

The petty officer steps up next to the rail. "We are H-M-S Hawkwing. Mind the ladder, and we will pick you up."

The ship slides close to the outcropping, her keel a bare yard above the rock as she comes to rest ten steps from Robert and Louis. A pair of ratings deploys a ladder from the ship's starboard side just forward of the gun sponson. It unfolds using a spring-dampened mechanism, and locks into position.

OOG: These ships are noticeably different than what's depicted in the rules, being deeper in the hull and generally larger. The basic shape is the same, though. For the ladder, picture a folding attic ladder design, except this one extends up to twenty feet.

Robert offers Louis a hand up.  "Well met HMS Hawkwing.  It is good to see you here.  Be wary, there is a fellow out there."  He pointed; "With a rifle."  Robert helped Louis to mount the ladder and followed her.

Louis mounts the ladder ahead of Robert, giving him an awesome view of her shapely bottom as she climbs. He detects a slight bit of extra wiggle that confirms her view of his admiring her view. She disappears from view up onto the deck as Robert reaches the halfway point.

The ladder itself is a work in burnished steel and polished wood. There isn't a spot of grease in view, and the only dust is from Louis' boots. He looks up to finish his climb - and then a pair of girlish squeals erupt from somewhere above him.

Robert rushes the rest of the way up the ladder, only to be greeted by the sight of two women standing face to face. One is Louis, clad as he last remembered. The other is her doppleganger, clad in the uniform of Her Majesty's Navy, with the shoulder boards of a lieutenant commander, and the gray beret of a ship's captain on her head.

They both turn to him with matching grins on their faces.

Robert admires the view.  Certainly there is a method to his madness and being a gentleman doesn't always mean not admiring your ravishing wife.  He regarded the cleanliness and attention to detail on the ladder as well; clean and shipshape spoke of discipline and effectiveness most likely.

When he arrived on deck Robert snapped out.  "Request permission to come aboard... ahhh..." His jaw dropped as he saw his wife's double in the Navy uniform and wearing the captain's beret.  "What?  Ahhh... ma'am?"

"Robert, come meet my cousin," Louis says excitedly. "Oh, well, I mean this ship's captain, of course."

The captain turns to face Robert, and everyone who isn't manning a position braces to attention as the petty officer calls out, "Attention on deck!" Since Robert is in mufti, no one salutes, though.

"Welcome aboard Hawkwing, Commander Darlington. I am Lieutenant Commander Meghan Wilder, and I am Louis' first cousin."

Robert doesn't salute but he does come to attention and nods slightly in acknowledgement of the honor.  He relaxed after a moment and looked first to Louis and then to her near double.  "Captain Wilder," he made a bow.  "Thank you for your hospitality aboard your magnificent ship ma'am.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance especially a cousin of Louis."  He looked at his wife. "I had no idea you had relations on our side of the Atlantic let alone any in the navy."

"We haven't seen each other since we were eight," Louis explains.

"Louis, Commander, a moment please." Captain Wilder turns to her petty officer. "Brian, take us up to five hundred feet, and start looking for armed people on the ground."

"Aye, Ma'am," the petty officer says with a nod. He turns to issue the proper orders to the crew, and the captain turns her attention back to Robert and Louis.

"I came to visit once, and we spent a month running all over the place near her home," she relates. "After that, we lost touch, since my parents fell ill and died after we returned home, and I entered an orphanage. All of my parents' living relatives were in America, and attempts to reach them apparently failed."

"A kindly couple, a retired commodore and his wife, adopted me, but they allowed me to keep my family name. When I came of age, they sent me to college, and helped me earn an officer's warrant. So," she grins, "here I am, a little Irish waif."

Robert nodded as he listened to Meghan's story.  "What a uncanny world we live in.  What writer of opium addled fiction could put you and Louis together like this."  He chuckled.  "How long have you been here on Mars and had command?  My own service was more terrestrial."

Meghan moves the conversation to the starboard bridge wing, where she bids them sit on the flag locker with a gesture, while she leans back on the rail. "Oh, would you like to have your gear stowed? I can have my yeoman send it to our one spare stateroom."

With that cared for, she continues her narrative. "I have been on Mars for two years, and in command of Hawkwing for a little over six months. The circumstances are a bit unusual, as several command officers requested reassignment about a year ago. Some have said that they are scraping the bilges for us new commanders, but my own people have been known to challenge that assertion."

She glances at Brian, and everyone sees the burly petty officer flushing like the port running light. "Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but they were crude about it."

Meghan smiles. "As you told the Commodore, yes."

"Yes, Ma'am. If I may, are we looking for one person, or several?" Brian glances at Robert and Louis as he speaks, and his gaze lingers on Louis' face for a brief moment before he turns back to his captain.

"Sir?" Meghan looks to Robert.

Robert nods in response to the settling of their gear.  "Thank you kindly ma'am." Robert is still very careful in addressing Meghan properly even though his tone and body language are relaxed.

"We've been on Mars not six months ourselves,"  Robert glanced at Louis.  "It seems like a lifetime certainly."  He chuckled approvingly at Brian's response.  "A good crew will follow you to hell and make sure you get back in one piece for sure."  He shook his head.  "Scrapings  or no it's results that count.  Command of a vessel such as this is an answer to a prayer for certain."  Robert was very approving.

At the question about the man down below he headed to the railing and pointed.  "There were three, we killed two.  The third was about there," he pointed.  "He may have tried to make himself scarce."

Over the next ten minutes, Robert guides Hawkwing to the three sniper hides. They find all three men dead of massive head wounds. There is no sign of other people, and the ship spirals to five hundred feet, while the lookouts scan the area with their powerful binoculars.

They soon spot the caravan headed west - and another group south of them, headed south!
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:33, Tue 07 July 2020.

Robert quickly fills Meghan in on what has transpired over the last few weeks especially the activities around the weapons smuggling.  "That is the caravan in which we traveled. The group heading south must be the smugglers carrying the weapons."

"That won't do at all," Meghan says. She issues orders to turn her ship toward the southern caravan and close on them. "What are your orders, Sir? Do we intercept them, or trail them?"