The Dangers of the Sea (Open)

by **The Yukons** » Wed Sep 12, 2018 9:35 pm

It is the year 2018, but it is not our 2018. It is a world of steam and sail, one where technology has not yet reached the level of the First World War. In this world it has been 140 years since The Fall – when a shower of heavenly bodies crashed into the Earth and nearly threw the planet back to the Stone Age. Nations like the Yukon Empire must now navigate a world where many areas remain mired in the savagery that overtook much of the planet in those chaotic years.

On the High Seas

The small raft bobbed on the gentle waves, a rectangular speck of wood grain brown against the deep blue of the ocean. Tendrils of smoke rose behind it from the burning hulk that was slowly slipping beneath the waterline. An hour ago the windjammer Beautiful Alexa had been cutting through the sea on its way to Australasia bearing passengers and cargo. Then a pair of pirate steamers had come over the horizon and intercepted the vessel.

After a brief fight, the Beautiful Alexa’s two 3-inch guns overpowered by the armaments of the pirate ships, the bark had been boarded. Pirates had carried off most of the passengers to sell as slaves, looted the cargo and personal possessions, and then cast those deemed unsuitable as human merchandise into the water and set fire to the hull. By the time the pirate ships had disappeared back over the horizon the Beautiful Alexa had burned to the waterline.

The raft and its occupants—nearly a dozen souls—were beginning to resign themselves to death when another ship appeared, this one flying the blue stripes and red cross of the Yukon Empire.

The Royal Palace in Victoria
Capital of the Yukon Empire

The gasps from some of the ladies present at court could be heard rising from the crowd that had gathered to listen to the Beautiful Alexa’s former second mate describe their harrowing ordeal. The man was badly wounded, an eyepatch masking a terrible burn wound from burning debris and one shirt sleeve tied off at the elbow. He had been wounded attempting to stop the pirates from carrying off a Yukon woman; by the time a doctor could tend to the deep cut the pirate cutlass had inflicted nothing could be done but remove the extremity before infection spread further up the limb.

At the front of the room, Queen Katharine Fraser Ramsay of House Victoria maintained royal impassivity, though those closest could see how her knuckles whitened as she gripped the armrests of her throne. Arrayed near her were the lords who oversaw the Yukon military, and those most familiar with the area.

The man finished his sorry tale, made his bow, and withdrew. A middle-aged man in a naval officer’s uniform stepped forward to take his place.

“My Queen, Lord Admiral, these atrocities on the high seas have gone on long enough!” A murmur of agreement rippled out across the crowd. Rear Admiral Sir Geoffry David Exeter drove a fist into his open palm to emphasize his point. “We must put an end to these piratical depredations. I served aboard a warship that patrolled those waters – the pirate scum sail from lawless ports, seize our ships with smug impunity, and then return to those cities and make a profitable trade with our enemies, and,” he added ominously, “Some of our supposed friends, from the bounties they capture.”

William Wallace Winston, First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, leaned to speak quietly to the minister of trade, who stood near enough to the queen that she was sure to overhear him. In the royal court one needed to avoid being seen as directly influencing the queen, lest other intriguers lob accusations of manipulating the sovereign. The men who controlled the various pieces of the Yukon government had become masters of saying what their queen needed to hear within her earshot.

“I wonder if we might strike at these pirates in their lairs, rather than trying to find them out on the high seas.”

The minister of trade nodded. “And if their ports of call are in fact such rich centers of commerce, perhaps it would be to our benefit to place them under more enlightened supervision.”

The queen raised her hand, a call for quiet whose formal point was to tell Admiral Sir Exeter it was time to vacate the stage but which was directed more towards her advisors. Katharine rose and took one step from the throne, bringing her to the edge of her raised platform.

“We have heard the cries of woe from Our subjects, who have suffered from the molestations of these sea brigands. In times past, We have been consumed by the needs of our people on land, and the necessary tasks of rebuilding Our civilization. But those times belong to history now. We shall not permit these bandits to defy Our will any longer.”

The Queen turned to where the First Sea Lord stood. “We have faith that Our Admiralty will make all the necessary plans and preparations, with all dispatch, for the sending of a fleet against the nest of these sea rats.”

Lord Wallace stepped out from among the members of the royal council and bowed. “It will be done, Your Majesty.”

by **The Yukons** » Thu Sep 13, 2018 10:15 am

The Royal Dockyards of Victoria Harbor

There was gray at all levels today; gray hulls of warships sat in their berths while gray clouds sat equally low and heavy in the sky. It wasn’t raining but everywhere he looked he could see men (and a few women) anxiously checking the sky and double-checking that their umbrella or coat was handy. Even the sentry that scanned his orders from the Admiralty seemed to have one eye turned upwards, as if daring the sky to defy the sovereign will he represented in his scarlet coat. Once he was past the security checkpoint it was a matter of muscle memory to reach the gangplank that would take him aboard his second home.

The sailor standing at the bottom of the walkway saluted sharply as he passed him, stopping in front of another man in an officer’s uniform who waited at the top. Commander Vincent Harold Fitzpatrick turned his somewhat more informal salute into an extended hand.

“Hope Her Majesty’s Service didn’t pull you away from anything too pressing,” he said as he shook the hand of the ship’s commanding officer.

“More like someone,” laughed Captain, acting Commodore, Arthur Franklin Baxter. He began to walk towards the bridge, Fitzpatrick falling in just a half-step behind. “I don’t see why the Queen has to keep interfering in my personal affairs like this.”

“She’s just jealous, is all.”

The two officers walked past sailors and junior officers making preparations for the ship's imminent departure. The HMS Hussar's crew of over 600 had been recalled from leave over the course of the last two days, bringing the ship up to sailing readiness while the Admiralty finalized the orders which Baxter had presented to the guard at the checkpoint. He knew that other ships had departed from berths in the massive complex during that time: a regiment of the Royal Army's Household Division had been assigned a role in the operation, an indicator of how closely the monarchy had taken an interest in the project.

On the bridge the other assembled officers came to attention for a brief moment, then stood listening as Commodore Baxter read aloud his orders from the Admiralty.

“By the will of Her Majesty, you are to take Her Majesty’s Royal Navy warship HMS Hussar to Fort Saint George Naval Station, from which you will depart with certain ships of the Squadron as listed below, and rendezvous with transports carrying soldiers of Her Majesty’s Royal Army. You will from this meeting proceed to invest, reduce, and capture the port city which is the base of the piratical bandits who have too long troubled these waters.”

Baxter looked to his men. “Brigadier Cordham will be arriving within the hour to accompany us on our trip to Fort Saint George Naval Station. He will be in command of the land forces, and I have been given the honor of commanding the naval squadron.” He paused to allow a brief cheer from his officers. “Word has been sent to the Station, so we shall only stay as long as necessary to replenish provisions.”

Brigadier Thomas Walter Cordham was a barrel of a man, one of the many officers without a permanent command who could be moved from spot to spot without disrupting existing structures within the regiments. Baxter had never worked with the man, but other officers filled in some of the background. If they had it right, he was recently returned from a skirmish with a warlord that had been not insignificant in terms of size; the world was slowly filling back up with countries able to pose a threat to the fringes of the Empire, if true rivals were still few and far between.

“Your part of the task is the easier by far,” he quipped to Baxter as they stood on the bridge watching the Hussar steam out of the harbor. “The hard part will be rooting them out of the little burrows they’ve dug for themselves in the city.”

"We'll certainly be bringing good terriers to the hunt," Baxter replied.

The larger set of orders, full of official timetables and lists of commanders whose names he should know, had listed three regiments that had been assigned to to Brigadier Cordham's command: the Royal Canadian Rifles, the New South Wales Fusiliers out of Australia, and the California Guards. Captain Howard had put together an estimate of how many Royal Marines he could spare from all the ships. With artillery and a few engineers along as well, and with the fire support of a battleship and three cruisers, it was a powerful force to bring against any lesser power: to fight pirates and bandits who still relied on weapons generations out of date, it would be overwhelming force. But Baxter had heard stories of how raiders melted away from a direct confrontation with Yukon warships and soldiers, only to reappear once the main body had moved on. I suppose that's why we're not going to be moving on.

by **The Yukons** » Thu Sep 13, 2018 5:15 pm

OOC: Still trying to leave things vague in case anyone expresses interest in RPing as the pirates

On the Docks of the Pirate City

The two pirate steamers pulled into the harbor and dropped anchor along the long dockside that spanned most of the natural harbor. Men grinning triumphantly began to throw crude planks over the distance between the ship’s deck and the dock. Soon a stream of people were emerging from the ships and spilling onto shore: the lower level members of the pirate crews left in search of drink, gambling, and whores while the leaders began to bargain with the merchants who had arrived to buy their stolen goods for sale in the marketplace.

While hardened raiders and amoral merchants haggled, other pirates began to prepare their cargoes for disembarkation. Small mountains of crates full of looted cargo, everything from textiles to foodstuffs to medicines to weapons sprawled across the decks of both ships. Captives huddled off to the sides, clustered together in search of protection that was not forthcoming. Fierce men wielding fierce weapons towered over them.

As the money finally changed hands, pirates and the slave-servants of the merchants began to move the cargo off the decks and onto the waiting carts. Blades poked and prodded, forcing a dismal column of men, women, and children off the boats. Cries for mercy or salvation were drowned out by the bustling noise of the docks.

On the High Seas, Onboard the HMS Hussar

Commodore Arthur Baxter loomed over the map, hands planted akimbo on the side of the drawing table to support his weight as he leaned to scrutinize the features depicted on the paper. Brigadier Thomas Cordham was deep in thought nearby, one hand stroking his chin. His mouth moved almost imperceptibly while he talked to himself, not so loud as to be heard by anyone who wasn’t standing directly in front or right beside him.

“I suppose I should be thankful there are any maps at all,” Baxter finally declared. “Though with the age of this one it might be more harm than help. And the Political Service has nothing more recent?”

Commander Vincent Fitzpatrick shook his head. “I think they had to scrounge this up from a university library somewhere,” he half-joked. “At least it can’t be wrong about the location. Even the Fall didn’t move shorelines.”

Baxter considered that the statement might actually be untrue – no one fully understood what exactly had happened that fateful day, when the heavens had fallen to Earth and wreaked terrible havoc. Maybe somewhere there was a beach where there had been inland forest a century and a half ago.

“Well, once we get to Fort Saint George we can see if the Squadron has any better sense of the place.”

The Political Service had a reputation for being everywhere, with fingers in everything that happened around the Empire and in many places the Yukon flag did not fly. But reputation was often more tall tale and half-truth than hard fact. The maps they had could tell them plenty of useful information, especially to the naval officers. Depths would need to be known, lest a ship run aground on a shallow or a reef. Even a Yukon cruiser couldn’t win a fight against pirate steamers when it couldn’t maneuver.

What was really concerning was that the sketches of the city, and its fortifications, might be entirely useless. Brigadier Cordham needed to know the best places to land the soldiers, how to march against the city, what sort of defenses his men might need to breach. Going in blind would only mean the officers and enlisted men on the ground would have to learn the terrain as they went, which could lead to all sorts of disasters. If no knowledge was forthcoming from the Yukons who were stationed in the area, then they would need to begin contemplating alternate means of obtaining the information they needed…

by **The Yukons** » Fri Sep 14, 2018 1:46 pm

Fort Saint George Naval Station

“Normally there’s a bit more fanfare,” Commodore Baxter remarked with only a trace amount of true bitterness.

Normally when a Yukon battleship entered a harbor there was some sort of greeting. Depending on where the port in question was it could range from cursory to elaborate, usually in proportion to how far the harbor was from the center of the empire. Fortified ports on the fringes of Yukon territory like Aden used the ceremonies to remind the locals just who was in charge, while those who lived in Grand Harbor needed no such reminder.

At Fort Saint George, however, the ceremony was almost conspicuous by its absence. A small launch motored its way to the HMS Hussar as the tugs guided it to a berth near the other warships stationed at the post. Seven cruisers were assigned to the naval station to conduct anti-piracy and anti-slaver patrols. Five of them were apparently off doing just that, leaving two of the bristling gray shapes looming over the local fishing boats and trading craft.

The man who stepped off the launch was either a mind reader or was thinking along the same lines. “Sorry we can’t give you the usual welcome,” he said as Commander Fitzpatick helped him up. “Can’t be sure that one of these fishermen might go running straight to the pirates and spoil the whole thing.”

And perhaps that’s why none of the ships assigned to the mission are currently in harbor. “Well then we’ll make a show of taking on provisions and going on our merry way.”

The officer, a lieutenant commander, pulled a sheaf of papers out from his coat. “The Wellington, Chester, and Olympus have orders to rendezvous with Hussar and the troopships at these coordinates. If everything has been timed right, you’ll be the last ones to arrive and then you can proceed.”

Baxter took the papers and looked them over. Three cruisers and a battleship weren’t quite the overwhelming force he’d prefer to bring. It was true that the pirates had only obsolete paddle frigates and converted coastal steamers, but if they did catch the bandits unawares he could find himself outnumbered. Pirate ships would swarm out of the harbor like hornets from a disturbed nest, and their guns could do murderous work at close range.

“Our maps of the port are somewhat…dated,” he said after skimming over the rest of the material. “Do you have—”

The officer cut him off with a second delivery, a set of papers rolled into a tube and bound at the center. “We didn’t want to risk any official sort of reconnaissance, but we tracked down every Yukon trader or reliable friend we could find here and picked their brains.”

The commodore accepted the map with a grateful nod. “Much obliged. Now, on the matter of provisions, we actually are short some supplies…”

Back on the High Seas

“Well, it improves our picture a slight amount.”

Baxter harrumphed his dissatisfaction. The information the Fort Saint George station had put together had confirmed the geographic details that their original maps had told them, but none of them had ever had reason or desire to get close enough to the fortifications on the harbor’s mouth or city’s edge to give more than vague impressions. Some mention of seeing gun muzzles but nothing more than blind guesses about caliber or range. Reference to soldiers marching through the streets but no idea as to where they were bound or what part of the whole they represented.

Brigadier Cordham spoke up cautiously. “If this is the best we have to work with, I would recommend we avoid making any sort of immediate direct assault on the city when we arrive. We can land the troops outside the possible range of the guns and invest the city from the landward side.”

“If we move too slowly,” Fitzpatrick spoke up, “Then the pirates will have time to move themselves and their slaves out of the city before the trap has shut. We need to get as many of them as possible.”

“What we need,” Baxter repeated, “Is accurate intelligence. We won’t get that from these maps.” He turned to look at Captain Archibald William Howard, the commander of the HMS Hussar’s Royal Marine contingent. He would be responsible for overall command of all the assembled Royal Marines once the action began. Howard caught his gaze and nodded.

The Marine officer stepped forward and cleared his throat. “At the suggestion of the captain, I began devising a plan to provide a more accurate picture of the enemy’s defenses. Together with my officers we determined that, if provided with one of the small launches from the Hussar, two of my lieutenants believe they can go ashore and collect information personally, then return to the assembled flotilla.”

Silence fell over the room. Everyone was processing the idea, turning it over in their heads like they were examining a captured rifle, looking for ways that it might injure the user. Baxter spoke up first.

“I reviewed this plan with Captain Howard prior to our arrival at Fort Saint George,” he explained. “As the risks it presents to the volunteers is obvious, I determined that it would be a last-ditch option. With the maps from the naval station being insufficient to allow us to best fulfill our mission in the timely manner expected, I decided it merited being brought before you.”

“I hope this lieutenants of yours aren’t filled up with the nonsense they write about the Political Service in books.”

“Lieutenants George Rogers Allen and Francis John Derry,” Howard supplied the names for the lieutenant colonel who’d spoken. “They have no such delusions. They’ve both done similar work before, scouting out slaver bases near Zanzibar. They know what to do, and what to look for.”

It was, Baxter suspected, how they’d earned their commissions. Allen, he knew, was from the Lakes Province. Yukons from former America were still few and far between in the officer corps, especially in the navy. Volunteering for such dangerous assignments was the only way short of impressing a royal for an “American” to rise to a position serving aboard a ship like the Hussar.

“I believe this is our best option for ensuring that Brigadier Cordham’s men don’t find themselves forced into a battle on unacceptable terms,” Baxter declared with finality. “Captain Howard and Commander Fitzpatrick will make all the necessary preparations. Inform me when the men are ready to depart.”

by **The Yukons** » Fri Sep 14, 2018 7:13 pm

Near the Shoreline, A Short Distance From the Pirate City

The light from the early morning sun was just starting to creep into the sky when the motor launch slowed to a stop near the coast. Onboard were two sailors, a pilot and a navigator, and the two lieutenants who had volunteered for the reconnaissance mission. The sailors wore their Royal Navy uniforms, but the lieutenants had changed into the sort of nondescript clothing common in this part of the world. With bags slung over their shoulders, they could blend in among the streams of people moving from city to city, looking for food and work. Just the sort of person no one would remember passing them by in the market.

With a twin splash the two men slipped over the side of the launch and landed in the water, trudging ashore as the launch’s engine began powering the craft back out to sea. Lieutenant Allen gave the sailors a jovial wave as they departed.

“Well, it’s a morning’s walk from here to the city,” Lieutenant Francis John Derry said, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “We had better get started if we’re to get everything we need before the train pulls in.” The Marine officers had been given a clear deadline: they had until tomorrow evening to learn as much as they could, and then the motor launch would return to this spot to retrieve them.

Lieutenant George Rogers Allen fell into a casual walk alongside Derry on the side of the dirt road leading towards the city.

Inside The Privy Council Chamber in Victoria

“What does he mean, ‘further reconnaissance’?!”

Arthur Solomon Cumberland, Lord Commander of the Royal Army, threw the question like a javelin in the direction of First Sea Lord Winston. The head of the Admiralty remained remarkably calm as the head of the Army shouted at him from across the Privy Council table.

“I thought it would be obvious,” Winston replied. “Commodore Baxter, doubtless conferring with Brigadier Cordham, has decided that he does not sufficient information to carry out his orders satisfactorily.”

“So what, he’s going to sail up in a fishing boat and draw sketches of the harbor?”

“I hardly think either officer is incapable of finding an effective means of better informing themselves. Would you rather they simply wander in blind?”

“I would rather they get a move on.” Cumberland had calmed somewhat, but he remained on his feet. “The longer this Baxter delays, the fewer of the pirate scum we will trap when we take the city. Surely he doesn’t worry that he might be defeated by a rabble of bandits, with armed trawlers?”

“The Zulu were armed with spears and shields made of hide,” Cumberland reminded the First Sea Lord. “To subdue them took every man in uniform we could spare. Would you risk a repeat of that fiasco? Only this time far from any support, indeed far beyond the borders of the Empire?”

“And Commodore Baxter could not have made this decision without the consent of Brigadier Cordham.” First Minister Charles Frederick Whitney, Duke of Columbia, chimed in with his support.

Cumberland looked between the two men, his temper still obvious but with fewer easy targets for it to unleash its fury against. He returned to his seat, signaling with a curt wave of his hand that his raising of the issue was finished. The Duke nodded and moved another sheet of paper to the top of the pile.

“A report has come in from our base at Galveston, detailing some interesting developments with potential ramifications for our strategy in the Caribbean…”

by **The Yukons** » Sun Sep 16, 2018 11:01 am

On the High Seas

The HMS Hussar arrived at the rendezvous point shortly after dawn, making its way to the head of the pack. Commodore Baxter stood on the deck, leaning against the railing to observe the other ships in the flotilla coming into formation. Three cruisers, plus the troopships and supply vessels carrying the men, ammunition, and provisions. It was hardly a battle fleet, but it would be sufficient to deal with whatever resistance the pirates could muster on sea. On land, that was another issue altogether.

“Invite all the necessary officers to the Hussar for dinner,” Baxter said to Commander Fitzpatrick. “We sail for the city tomorrow. Hopefully our two intrepid scouts will be able to link up with us and give a better idea of what we’re going to do once we get there.”

Outside the Pirate City

In some parts of the world, the appearance of two fair-skinned Yukons, no matter how tanned by tours of duty across the world’s seas, would have drawn immediate suspicion. Luckily, this particular city was cosmopolitan enough that white men, especially tan white men who looked like they’d spent the last few years at sea, did not look any more out of place than the rest of the itinerant seamen wandering through looking for work.

Lieutenant George Rogers Allen rummaged around in the bag he had slung across his chest, reaching past the spare set of clothes and the revolver to grab a canteen for a quick drink. He passed it over to the waiting hand of fellow Lieutenant Francis John Derry who took his own swig before it went back into a bag. Ahead of them loomed the walls of the city.

“Looks like a bit of artillery over the gate,” Derry said. Allen nodded, taking in the black cigar shapes of the muzzles pointing out over the landscape. He could see tiny dots bobbing up and down near them – gun crews, maybe soldiers. More soldiers stood guard by the gate on the ground, lazily watching over the people going in and out. They wore patchwork uniforms, with the most uniform thing about them being the red banner tied around their right arms. Doubtless it was some means of distinguishing the men who served the ruler of the city from the other militias who strolled around.

The two lieutenants made their way past the guards and into the city, a sprawling unorganized mess of slums built around and sometimes among structures that had stood since before the Fall. Cities like this had become havens for the refugees that had fled in search of food and shelter during the biting cold that had followed the heavenly impacts, sometimes collapsing under their own weight. Many times, Royal Navy ships would pass the rubble of a city whose inhabitants had perished in an orgy of desperate fighting. The cities that had survived had often done so through the iron grip of a strongman, who rationed the food and culled the swollen population.

“I say we split up,” Allen suggested. “One of us checks out the perimeter, the other one goes to the harbor.”

“Better to stick together,” Derry responded. “Never know what sort of trouble we’ll run into.”

Allen looked ready to argue the point but decided against it. Derry was the senior officer of the two by date of commission, if only by a few months. Pulling off the main street, the two found a secluded space just inside an alley and unrolled a copy of the city map.

“I saw what looked like fortresses on either end of the harbor mouth,” Derry said, making two quick marks with a pencil. “I don’t think they’ll let us get to close but we should be able to get a rough idea of what they’ve got.”

“I didn’t see any other gates,” Allen mentioned, “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. We should see if they’ve added a sally port anywhere in the wall.”

“So, we loop this way,” Derry traced a line running along the edge of the city from the gate to one side, then curving to follow the docks along the waterfront. “Then we go along the opposite side.”

“Puts us right back here at the exit,” Allen noted approvingly. “Sounds like a plan.”

by **The Yukons** » Tue Sep 18, 2018 7:49 pm

Inside the Pirate City

“So, what have we learned?”

The two Yukon lieutenants made their way through the bustling crowds of the marketplace, dodging and weaving between merchants, buyers, and onlookers. Stalls lined the perimeter, staffed with vendors loudly proclaiming the superior quality of their goods. Everything conceivable was on sale here: mundane items like clothing or food could be purchased only a few feet away from weapons, drugs, or even people.

Such barbarism was abhorrent to both men, but they knew better than to throw away their lives trying to make a difference. All they could do to help those poor souls in slavery was collect the best intelligence so the Yukon Empire could bring civilization to the city.

“Just enough to be not very useful,” Lieutenant Allen responded to Lieutenant Derry’s question. “A slightly better count of the soldiers and guns, but I doubt the Commodore will approve if that’s all we bring back.”

The duo made their exit from the bazaar. They’d completed most of their route through the city, but they hadn’t been able to get close to either fort. As they rounded a corner, Derry stopped Allen was a short jab to the side. Ahead of them was a small gate in the wall – another entrance to the city.

“That’s not on the maps,” Derry said.

Allen nodded in agreement. “Looks new. See how it’s got that reinforcement around the top? I’d bet that was built pretty recently. Sally port, or the warlord’s secret escape hatch.”

The gate was large enough for one, maybe two men to move through at a time. A heavy iron door sealed the passageway shut, guarded by four soldiers who looked just as bored as the ones who’d watched over the main entrance. Derry and Allen filed it away on their mental map and kept moving.

“These soldiers don’t seem too invested in soldiering,” Derry mentioned as they walked away.

Allen picked up the thread without further prompting. “I’ll bet they don’t exactly put one hundred percent into their duties…especially at night.”

“I say we take advantage of that,” Derry declared. “Let’s get a closer look at one of those fortresses.”

by **Crimetopolis** » Wed Sep 19, 2018 10:05 pm

St. Louis , Missouri.... Brenda Coalfork opened the manila in her secured house and read her instructions. 'Because of pirate agent activity, extrordinary precautions are being. A motor car will arrive at 11 p.m. tonight at your place. You will ride in it until you get to naval base in Ohio. From there, a torpedo ship will take you up the Erie canal and out into in Atlantic. From there, it will take you to the coast near the pirate city. We have sent word to agents Allen and Denny that will you will say Frankfurt and the countersign is vodka. They will meet you near a fort, You are to aid them and the Yukon Empire in whatever anti-pirate measures they take, too. Kill as many pirate nobility and commanders as possible' Destroy this letter as convenient.'

Brenda used the toilet and showered. She tore up her orders and flushed them. She set her alarm to 9:30 and read. She arose, ate meal and used the bathroom again. She boarded the motor car at the appointed time, too. She snored all the way to Ohio. The Ford Model X was a completely enclosed car, so Brenda snored all the way to Ohio and the navy base. Once there, she boarded the torpedo ship and was soon dropped off at the Pirate City coastline. She walked a shortage distance until she saw the pirate city. She made sure both the revolver and Mauser were ready to go as everybody simply ignored her. She saw the fortress and Lts Derry and Allen. . She simply walked up to them and whispered 'Frankfurt'.
TAGS Derry and Allen.

by **The Yukons** » Sun Sep 23, 2018 8:32 pm

Crimetopolis wrote:St. Louis , Missouri.... Brenda Coalfork opened the manila in her secured house and read her instructions. 'Because of pirate agent activity, extrordinary precautions are being. A motor car will arrive at 11 p.m. tonight at your place. You will ride in it until you get to naval base in Ohio. From there, a torpedo ship will take you up the Erie canal and out into in Atlantic. From there, it will take you to the coast near the pirate city. We have sent word to agents Allen and Denny that will you will say Frankfurt and the countersign is vodka. They will meet you near a fort, You are to aid them and the Yukon Empire in whatever anti-pirate measures they take, too. Kill as many pirate nobility and commanders as possible' Destroy this letter as convenient.'

Brenda used the toilet and showered. She tore up her orders and flushed them. She set her alarm to 9:30 and read. She arose, ate meal and used the bathroom again. She boarded the motor car at the appointed time, too. She snored all the way to Ohio. The Ford Model X was a completely enclosed car, so Brenda snored all the way to Ohio and the navy base. Once there, she boarded the torpedo ship and was soon dropped off at the Pirate City coastline. She walked a shortage distance until she saw the pirate city. She made sure both the revolver and Mauser were ready to go as everybody simply ignored her. She saw the fortress and Lts Derry and Allen. . She simply walked up to them and whispered 'Frankfurt'.

Inside the Pirate City

The two lieutenants had been briefed that they might encounter some friendly foreigners wthin the walls of the city. The Yukon Empire generally made its own path in the world but that didn’t mean it closed itself off like the Atlantians did. Such an alliance of convenience, two interested parties helping each other to deal with a common problem, was exactly the sort of arrangement the Yukons would happily accept. So long as the other party understood that it was a partner in a very limited venture, and nothing more. The last thing the Foreign Ministry wanted was some other nation trying to stake a claim to the city’s excellent harbor on some inflated idea of its own participation.

All this was to say that when Brenda Coalfork whispered the code word in the direction of the two lieutenants, they understood that what they were getting was another set of hands and eyes, and another gun, to help them in their mission. Lieutenant Francis John Derry was clearly surprised, however, when he turned around and saw it had been whispered by a woman. Lieutenant George Rogers Allen seemed less taken aback. In the Lake Province, women were allowed a more active role in the dirtier business of war than in most of the Empire. It came from traditions of homestead defense, when Yukon settlers had pried the region out of the hands of the neo-barbarian savages descended from the cannibal survivors of the Fall. A woman who couldn’t pick off a raiding party from the window of her cabin with a rifle when her husband was away, or killed, was a dead woman.

“Vodka,” Allen replied while Derry finished processing the sight in front of him. “So, you’re our contact, hmm?”

“You’re not what we expected,” Derry declared.

Allen shot him a look that implied that Derry was speaking more for himself than the two of them. He took a half-step forward, announcing with his body that he would handle things from here.

“We’re going to wait until dark, then try and get a closer look at the gun emplacements on the fortress at the north end of the harbor,” Allen explained. “You look like you can handle yourself in a fight. How are you at sneaking about?”

by **Crimetopolis** » Tue Sep 25, 2018 7:25 am

"Very good. I was a reservist deputy sheriff and before that I rode in posses. I'd killed 11 outlaws by the time I was 12. I beat the electric chair because every one of them were justifiable homicides. I was trained to pick locks as a reservist deputy sheriff, too.." She looked at the two lieutenants. "Where shall we begin?"

by **The Yukons** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 12:48 pm

Crimetopolis wrote:"Very good. I was a reservist deputy sheriff and before that I rode in posses. I'd killed 11 outlaws by the time I was 12. I beat the electric chair because every one of them were justifiable homicides. I was trained to pick locks as a reservist deputy sheriff, too.." She looked at the two lieutenants. "Where shall we begin?"

Inside the Pirate City

Lieutenant George Rogers Allen stroked his chin with the hand that wasn’t resting on his bag while he listened to Brenda’s introduction. The woman could talk up a good story, but eleven men dead before the age of 12?

Allen didn’t know much about the Republic of Kentucky, but the few stories and half-truths he’d picked up while on shore leave in various parts of the world seemed to match up with her rough-and-tumble description. It was one of those places that would be too much trouble for the Yukon Empire to absorb, and it wouldn’t do much for the Empire once the hardscrabble nation was inside it. So instead the two countries met in odd places, like a busy street in a pirate-infested city on the other side of the world.

“Quite the resume,” Allen replied dryly, his tone showing that he didn’t quite believe everything Brenda had said. “We can’t try anything while it’s still daylight out, unless we’re looking for a quick execution. I say we find somewhere to set up and hunker down until near dark. Then we can make our way to the fort and see if we can find a way to sneak in while the guard is changing.”

Lieutenant Francis John Derry spoke up. “I saw something that I think was trying to be a hotel, or at least some sort of place with rooms for rent.” He gestured one direction down the street. “Back on the other side of the main bazaar.”

Lieutenant Allen nodded in agreement. “I think between the three of us we’ll have enough money for a room for the night.”

The two Yukons looked to Brenda for her agreement or disagreement, their bodies tensed with clear anticipation to get moving but waiting to see if their new ally thought differently than they did.

by **Crimetopolis** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 1:02 pm

Brenda handed the inn keeper a $100 silver dollar piece. "That'll rent a three bed room for a month. Our rooms have indoor toilets, sinks, and showers." Brenda was moderately impressed. In the Republic of Kentucky, the 1870 Cholera suppression act meant that 85% of Kentucky homes indoor plumbing. Cholera, typhoid, and like diseases rates were going down much, too. "Let us retire to our room."

by **The Yukons** » Wed Oct 17, 2018 8:51 pm

Crimetopolis wrote:Brenda handed the inn keeper a $100 silver dollar piece. "That'll rent a three bed room for a month. Our rooms have indoor toilets, sinks, and showers." Brenda was moderately impressed. In the Republic of Kentucky, the 1870 Cholera suppression act meant that 85% of Kentucky homes indoor plumbing. Cholera, typhoid, and like diseases rates were going down much, too. "Let us retire to our room."

In the Pirate City

“Maybe we shouldn’t be throwing so much coin around so freely,” Lieutenant Derry said quietly as they walked up to their room. “The last thing we want is some pickpocket or cutpurse deciding we’d make fine pickings.”

“And it seems a waste,” Lieutenant Allen added from behind Derry on the stairs. “Seeing as we won’t be staying that long anyway.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one had heard what he’d said. Thankfully the hallway was empty. Once they were inside the room and the door was locked, the two Yukon lieutenants apprised their situation and their new partner.

“We wait for nightfall,” Allen said in a tone that he hoped indicated to Brenda that they had their plan developed already. “We can make our way across the city as everyone is heading for home, blend in with the crowd. By the time we reach the fort it should be time for the guards to change over. That’s our opportunity.”

Derry produced his revolver from his shoulder bag and checked it once over, making sure nothing had been jostled or broken while it had been in the bag. Satisfied, he looked up at the Kentuckyian. “You’re quite a far ways from home. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone from your country anywhere across an ocean before.”

The Captain’s Mess Aboard the HMS Hussar

The captain’s mess was packed to capacity for this dinner, with every available bit of table space and seating in use. While Commodore Baxter and Brigadier Cordham held overall command of the naval and land operations between the two of them, tradition dictated that the next level of command be invited to hear the plan and give their input. Thus besides the two chief commanders, nine other men sat around the table. The captains of the three cruisers sat next to Commdore Baxter, with Captain Archibald William Howard, the man who would hold overall command of the assembled Royal Marines, at the end of the row. Facing them across the table next to Brigadier Cordham were the colonels commanding the three regiments aboard the troopships: Colonel Nathan Liam Logan from the Royal Canadian Rifles, Colonel Jacob Isaiah Lee from the California Guards, and Colonel Robin MacDonald from the New South Wales Fusiliers. Opposite the two chiefs at the far end of the table were two majors: Major Geoffrey August Fulston, representing the Royal Artillery, and Major Tobias Williams from the Royal Engineers.

Decorum held that business came after dinner, so talk while the food was being served and eaten stayed on unrelated topics: the weather, the quality of the passage from port to rendezvous, recent exploits of the regiments and ships or of other comrades not present. Politics was avoided as well, as a matter of decency, but there was talk of military policy. Officers were being selected to command pushes farther north into Africa, or so said the stories the rumor mill had churned out. Not much possible work for the Navy there, unless you wanted to drop down to commanding a riverine gunboat, but plenty of chances for Army officers to make a name for themselves.

Once the dinner plates had been cleared away, Commodore Baxter cleared his throat to bring the conversation to a close. At a signal, aides unrolled a blown-up copy of the updated map onto the table. The orientation was such that the harbor mouth faced the Navy men and the Army men had a closer look at the city itself.

“Now, bearing in mind that our two scouts might bring back more relevant information,” Baxter opened, “Here is what I propose for the approach.”

Baxter used a small pointer to trace a path already outlined on the map. “Our warships will approach from this direction,” he explained, “And batter the fortress here into submission. Our intention will be to silence the guns sufficiently to allow the landing of troops here, outside the city.”

“Once landed,” Brigadier Cordham took over, “We will invest the city, moving like so to seal off the main road. The California Guards will be tasked with the seizure of this fortress here, and the New South Wales Fusiliers will seize the one opposite the harbor mouth. The Rifles will have the responsibility of sealing off escape and preparing assault routes against the city walls.”

The two commanders looked up, indicating that if anyone had any objections to the plan as stated, now was the time. Colonel Logan from the Royal Canadian Rifles looked somewhat upset – doubtless jealous of the two regiments who would get to cover themselves in glory storming the battlements. Cordham noticed the look.

“When we enter the city, of course,” he said to the group with his eyes still on Logan, “The Royal Canadian Rifles will be in the front, with the Fusiliers acting as support and the California Guard in reserve.”

That seemed to give everyone enough chance to make headlines back home, and the look on the colonel’s face subsided. Discussion continued, with the captains of the cruisers asking additional questions and sorting out what order they would sail, but the overall plan had the approval of the subordinates.

by **Crimetopolis** » Sun Oct 21, 2018 2:20 am

Brenda smiled. "Republic of Kentucky has been the Tyler Williams gang for years Horse rustling, bank robbery,motorcar theft YOu name
the crime, they're in it,.. Our Bureau of Investigation has discovered alliance between these pirates and Tyler Williams' gang. They're sending shipments of Maxim machineguns, Mauser and Shwarlose pistols, Winchester 1892 rifles and ammunition . In return they get sanctuary when it gets too hot for them. Helping you shut down these pirates is another step shutting down the Williams gang." Brenda showed them a picture of Tyler Williams. "Now tell of this plan of yours."

by **The Yukons** » Sun Nov 04, 2018 9:04 am

OOC: sorry for the short post, have a lot of work IRL to take care of. Just want to make sure the thread isn't left for dead

Crimetopolis wrote:Brenda smiled. "Republic of Kentucky has been the Tyler Williams gang for years Horse rustling, bank robbery,motorcar theft YOu name
the crime, they're in it,.. Our Bureau of Investigation has discovered alliance between these pirates and Tyler Williams' gang. They're sending shipments of Maxim machineguns, Mauser and Shwarlose pistols, Winchester 1892 rifles and ammunition . In return they get sanctuary when it gets too hot for them. Helping you shut down these pirates is another step shutting down the Williams gang." Brenda showed them a picture of Tyler Williams. "Now tell of this plan of yours."

In the Pirate City
“When the sun is almost down, the guards should rotate,” Lieutenant Allen explained. “You’ve seen the militia around here. Not exactly professional soldier types. And it’ll get cold once it gets dark. So there should be a nice long break where nobody is standing watch.”

“And that’s our window for sneaking in.” Lieutenant Derry picked up the thread. “We can get a good count of how many guns they have, get a good view of the overall defenses from the vantage point. Maybe even do some sabotage to make things easier for the Navy.”

“Once we’re done,” Allen finished, “We hightail it out of the city. We have a pickup arranged for tomorrow evening. Once we’re back onboard the Hussar, the attack will begin.”

by **Crimetopolis** » Sun Nov 04, 2018 2:44 pm

. Brenda went to a window "I think we might be able to help you> There's a mining store across the street and its placard says they' re selling both dynamite and Maximite, too." Do you think we could bomb the gas company as a diversion before your navy attacks, also?" Brenda asked the two naval officers.

The Dangers of the Sea (Open)

The Dangers of the Sea (Open)

IC Brenda:

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