TITLE: When Adventures Begin...

CHAPTER: Four

AUTHOR: The Chronicler

UNIVERSE: M7 Aurora Adventures

RATING: PG-13

ARCHIVE: Yes

FEEDBACK: Pretty Please!

EMAIL: chronicler_of_knuckles@yahoo.com

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When Adventures Begin...

By The Chronicler

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Chapter Four~~

On the River Lady...

"Mother." Ezra started.

A solid slap across his face silenced him.

"How dare you?!" Maude Standish hissed at him. "How dare you bring the enemy of our Lord into our home? Into this sanctuary? The very sanctuary Count Gregory provided for you! He saved us! Saved us from the dirt poor and impoverish. He fed us, clothed us, gave us everything!"

"He enslaved us!" Ezra snapped back, silencing her just as sudden as if he had slapped her back.

Maude's jaw snapped shut, her smoldering emerald eyes burning into her son.

Ezra sighed, shaking his head. "Mother, please, we can be free. Go where we want to, serve no one but ourselves. We don't need Count Gregory. We don't need anyone."

"Our Lord saved your life." she hissed at him. "When those Yankees came for you..."

"They were helping to provide a cover story." When his mother frowned, Ezra explained "I was working with the North to keep outside influences out of our war. The Yankees pretended to hunt me to give Count Gregory a reason to trust me."

Maude stepped back as if she had been stung. "You... You betrayed us?" she gasped.

"No." Ezra reached for her, but she stepped further away. "No, I was buying our freedom."

Her eyes turned hard once again. "Well, you have your freedom." She spat at him with disgust. "Ungrateful, traitorous swine... how could you have possibly been born from my own being?" She shook her head. "Well, I lay claim to you no more. You are no son of mine! I have no son!"

The gambler's gut twisted viciously. "What?" he whispered, unable to comprehend what she was saying.

"I serve my lord, the Count Gregory, faithfully, with every once of my being. And I damn any and everyone who dares to stand against him." Maude Standish announced, casting glares at the two men who had arrived with her son, including them in her declaration. "Now, get out of my home, before I have you shot and dragged out like the dogs you are!"

Ezra just stood there, staring at her. His mind had drawn a complete blank. After all, what does a son say to a mother that has just denounced him for favor of a monster such as the evil Count Gregory?

Chris Larabee stepped forward. "I don't think you've quite understood, lady." he growled. "Standish is giving you the opportunity to get out before the ship..." he glanced about at the casino ship around them, "...goes down with all hands."

The woman glared at him. "Mr Larabee, all I have to say to a Yankee would be quite unlady like." she warned.

Chris' eyes narrowed. "I don't give a damn what you say to me. Now, this is what you're gonna say to Gregory..."

~~~~~

J.D. ran after the General. "Sir! General Coal, sir!" he called.

Coal gave a tired sigh, shaking his head. The damn little brat was beginning to get on his nerves. He did not have time for this. For crying out loud, he was trying to run a war ship.

They were minutes from the River Lady where they were supposed to meet with loyals of their Count Gregory and retrieve the newest of flying vessels, another Aurora. As successful as the Standishs had always been, Coal had doubts in their ability to handle the famous Phileas Fogg, who, according to their information, would of been delivering the dirigible. Sure, the mother and son team had quite the reputation for being able to con anything they wanted from anyone. But Lord Fogg was not just anyone and had proven such in the countless times he had interfered with Count Gregory's plans for the world.

Ah, and Margarita brings Wilmington aboard his ship, no doubt drawing the attention of that damn wolfhound Larabee. And there was nothing short of death that would put Larabee off: his death or the death of his family. Considering there was no family left, that left Larabee himself. And General Coal was not all that sure that he could take that man alone... It was a good thing he commanded the Prometheus then.

And now the boy wanted his attention.

"General, sir." J.D. panted as he came up on the bridge to stand beside him. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Now is not a good time, John. Go to your room. I will come at my first opportunity..." Coal tried to be patient.

"Sir, the Aurora class dirigible is in the air to the north of the River Lady." called a look out standing at the observation window.

"In the air?" Coal frowned.

"It's about the prisoner, General." J.D. insisted.

"Not now, John." Coal growled before turning to the look out. "Why is that ship in the air? It should be on the ground, down and submissive!"

"She's in the air, sir." confirmed the second look out. "At aproximently 150 feet and holding. She looks to be anchored though, sir."

"General, what she's doing to Wilmington is wrong. If we're supposed to be the good guys..."

Coal spun about, slamming the back of his hand across J.D.'s face, knocking him back to slam into a steel column.

Stunned and hurt, the boy stared up at him with wide eyes. A shaky hand reached up to gingerly touch the quickly coloring bruise around the split Coal's knuckles had cut across his jaw.

"Do not bring this to me again!" Coal snarled. "Go to your room! Remain there!" Without another word, he spun back to his lookouts. "Is there any movement on the dirigible?"

J.D. stared at the man's back another moment as the crew of the Prometheus continued their duties around him. Some cast amused looks in his direction, a few even chuckled. Most just simply ignored the abused boy.

Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, J.D. pushed away from the column and stumbled off of the bridge. Out in the hall he leaned a hand on the cold, steel wall while the other, again, reached up to touch the cut. When he pulled his hand away and looked down at it, he saw his own blood. He was too numb to feel the real pain, but that didn't stop his mind to come to a conclusion. "I was wrong." he breathed.

"Yes, really?" Lady Margarita stepped directly in front of the boy.

With a startled yipe, J.D. started to step back.

But the woman grabbed his shoulder and sunk her nails in with such force, she drove him to his knees. Leaning down over him, she smiled a sweet, little girl smile. "You were very wrong to come here, little! baby! boy!"

John Daniels Dunne forced his head up, his young, gentle eyes, though glistening from tears of pain, were now hard. "Well, you got one thing right." he pushed out through clenched teeth. Suddenly his small clenched fist came up, slamming into the woman's gut with every ounce of strength he had.

With a startled gasp, Margarita stumbled back, releasing her hold.

J.D. jumped back to his feet. "I was wrong to come here. But I, sure as hell, ain't no little baby boy!" he snapped, before jumping around her, barely dodging her snatching hand, and ran down the hall.

"You bastard!" she screamed after him, but was not yet recovered enough to take chase. But not so, that she couldn't send a promise after him: "I will shred you to pieces!"

Knowing it wouldn't take long for her to make good her promise, J.D. lowered his head and ran for all his worth. If it was the last thing he did, he had to make something good come out of his mistake: Get Buck Wilmington out!

Even if it killed him!

~~~~~

"Oh, man." Vin Tanner slowly rose to his feet, staring at the huge air ship as it came closer, over shadowing the small Aurora.

Lord Fogg glanced at him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Tanner?" he wondered.

The young pilot nodded. "Sure as hell! Look at the size of that thing!" He waved a hand toward the ship.

"I assure you, I am more than acquainted with the Prometheus." Fogg assured.

But Tanner was not in the least assured. "It's huge! Texas would be chilled by that thing! We're a mosquito to that thing's..." He hesitated, lacking the right comparison.

"Ostrich?" Passpartout offered.

Both Tanner and Fogg frowned at the little frenchman. "What?" Tanner exclaimed.

"Oschrige." the valet was quick to supply. "A very large bird... 'cept, of course, Prometheus can fly, but Oschrige no fly. An' fast! Oschrige very fast. Prometheus is slow. very slow. An' not very..."

"Thank you, Passpartout!" Fogg silenced him.

Passpartout looked at his master with a hurt expression. but was quickly distracted when Nathen dropped an arm load of rifles on the dining table before him, each needing to be checked and loaded.

"Fact being," nathen joined the discussion, "that thing is armor plated, covered with gun sites, at least three cannons on the the top deck on this side alone... the thing is a flying fortress. How are we supposed to fight that with this? A sky yacht, a rich man's toy?"

"gentlemen." Fogg called attention back to himself. "Have any of you heard the expression `it isn't the size, but what you do with it that matters.'?"

Startled into a chuckle, Vin nodded, then glanced at Nathen to see his reaction.

Nathen smiled slightly. "I don't believe that that phrase quite fits our situation."

"On the contrary." Fogg answered. "Are there any two more similar than war and making love? You go in with the mission of conquest, passion to see what needs to be done done, and with the hope that you come out, if not intact, at least better for the experience."

"Though intact would be preferred." Vin mumbled, still grinning.

"There are more ways to die making love than war." Passpartout put in.

Fogg smiled. "And he should know. The French are well known for their more than fair share of love making."

"An' war." his valet added, too busy with the gears of a rifle to look up.

With a sad sigh, the english Lord nodded. "And war." he agreed. He looked directly at Nathen then. "The Aurora is more than a toy." he said, stiff enough that everyone knew he had taken the comment personally. "And this ship was crafted after my Aurora for the explicit purpose to give the United States a force in the air." He waved a hand at his man. "Passpartout is right. The Prometheus is slow. This craft can move around that ogre like a desert wasp. She can move in and out quickly, through hills, hide in clearings the Prometheus can't even see through its own shadow."

Vin looked up at him again. "Why do you call the Aurora `she' and the Promtheus `it'?" he wondered.

Lord Phileas Fogg smiled. He held up his ever-present brandy glass. "As in war, as in love, my friend, never refer to a lady as anything but a lady. And never refer to another as anywhere near the same quality." He emptied his glass, set it down on the table, then grabbed a small, hand held canon. "Now, if we are to be ready to sting when Mr. Larabee calls for us to be, we had best be getting to it."

Nathen huffed a little, unconvinced, but returned to the rifles.

Vin cast another look up at the massive ship that had anchored itself over the River Lady Casino. Then dropped down and continued his work on the rope.

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