Flags were waved. A lot of what Etelka wanted expressed via the semaphores was lost in the abbreviation. She knew that would happen.
Multicolor flags, some with glow-lights, spun around and up and down on the mast, directed at the lead airship of the Imperial Navy.
Etelka went to the cockpit. The captain, a balding, large man, who seemed part of the airship itself sat in the left-most seat of three. He had a thin, but full beard and a large head. His ivory cane leant against the console in front of him. Etelka knew it to be a sword cane.
“Captain,” she said with utmost and authentic respect, “I wish to avoid engagements of any sorts.”
“Understood Madam Baroness.”
A few moments later: “They wish to send someone aboard. They out-gun us. I recommend we suffer this insult for the time.”
Etelka rolled her eyes to herself. We have no time…
“Yes, do it, Captain. But only one and Attila holds the only gun.”
Attila, more burly than stout, Hunnish and a sworn protector of the Baroness Kekszemu Etelka, stroked his bare scalp. He was mustached and in his younger days something to look at. Now he carried an open double shotgun.
In Hunnish: “Madam?”
“Just don’t let them take control of Baba Yaga.”
“I would never.”
“That is why I love you, Attila.”
“Thank you, madam.”
Twenty minutes later, a skinny man—a marine by appearance—swung down from the pendulous flagship of this cluster. He had a hundred meters of rope on his harness. Baba Yaga’s Hut, in the person of Attila had his gun on him for 20 minutes, recessed in the open upper access hatch.
Attila gestured him down the ladder beneath the hatch when he landed on the top of Baba Yaga’s Hut and unclasped his harness. The marine squeezed by, smelling of weeks on an airship with limited bathing opportunities.
The marine was smallish and skinny and landed lightly on the floor of the engine room. Pool and Etelka stood waiting for him. Seconds later Attila dismounted the ladder.
“Why are we being impeded in our journey, marine?” demanded the baroness in Brethmanic, intentionally demonstrating her rank. (She had changed into a more formal looking dress and vest while the marine descended from above.)
“Baroness Kekszemu? Madam, your rather unique looking airship was identified, but I was sent to confirm that it is, indeed, under your command,” he answered. “The Empire is at war.”
“With Muskovy?” she asked, knowing it to be true already.
“Yes, madam. We’ve heard reports of the Muskovites attempting to flank us by approaching us from the ocean instead of from the east.”
“How do you know I am the Baroness Kekszemu? I could be an imposter?”
“It was asked of the marines onboard our ships if any had been familiar with your appearance, and I had. I saw you in Parliament once in passing. I was also given a description of Constable Pool, who you are known to travel with.” The marine nodded his head in Pool’s direction.
“I am satisfied with your identity and will report back to Command. They will drift the harness rope back over your envelope when you relate this code to them.”
Beatrix repeated the code, thinking “North, North, North” an odd code, but realized that it was an easy one to communicate via semaphore.
The marine was given a short tour of the airship to demonstrate that there were no hidden battalions in the cargo hold and then he and Attila climbed the ladder back to the top of the envelope.
Baba Yaga’s Hut was granted passage. Etelka was in a huff. It’s my fucking Empire, she was thinking.
Work in progress. Mistakes and misspellings are present. This is a very rough draft. Copyright 2021 Ion Fyr
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Ion Fyr 