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Adventure! RPG: Heroes of Our Time - episode 5: Walking in the Valley


Alex Craft

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(late May, 1924 - somewhere in Texas)

A hot, dry summer wind blows in off the desert and through town, serving out no relief from the burning Texas sun. The train station is sitting just on the outskirts of town, trailing a comet's tail of saloons, stores, and flophouses for anyone laying over here on their way to bigger places.

The station itself is a crude affair - really just a couple of shacks built off the platform. One houses the ticket station, the post depot, and the telegraph office, and the other is little more than a water reservoir to top off the engines' tanks. Deep eaves hang out from these perfunctory structures, providing some measure of shade for the handful of people waiting on the coming train.

The platform is built from peeled logs, split in half and laid side by side along perhaps a dozen meters of track. The two hot rails rest nearby, running off toward both empty horizons in the company of a long, drooping telegraph wire suspended from an endless row of wooden posts.

The station master and a couple of his friends (all getting on in age) sit in front of the ticket window, shuffling a greasy old deck of cards and halfheartedly slapping at the sluggish flies lured in by the scent of their sweat. A handful of passengers wait under the office's eaves alongside the old men - farmers mostly, grizzled and tanned by too many years of wind and sun.

A group of a half dozen is on the other side of the station, gathered in the shade of the water reservoir. They look like accountants or engineers, small men dressed in business suits entirely unsuited to the summer heat. Surveyors perhaps - they are surrounded by pieces of heavy luggage that look as if they could be transporting some kind of specialist equipment.

However, the most immediately obtrusive of the waiting passengers would be a woman standing a little to the side of anyone else. Pretty, serious, and quiet, she is dressed in sensible leather shoes and a simple skirt and blouse - all rather worn, with marks from the removal of embroidery or lace visible on the clothes. A miner's duffel bag sits on the platform to her left, and a smaller valise sits to her right.

She is also Indian. Eastern Indian, that is - not one of the Red Indians that occasionally wander through town. The locals don't seem to have seen many like her, and she is the subject of quite a bit of subtle and not-so-subtle observation. Nobody bothers her, though she does have to put up with the weight of too many eyes. The surveyors pay her little attention, instead fidgeting quietly as they wait for the train.

Said train shows up pretty much on schedule, steaming into the station with a protracted hiss and clatter, it's whistle emphatically declaring it's arrival. The engine sighs and ticks in the heat as the station grudgingly comes to life. The farmers cut across the platform (shouldering past the handful of unloading passengers), and a gaggle of porters pours out to help the surveyors manhandle their luggage into the train.

As all this goes on, a thin, sharp featured man strolls onto the platform - an Arab, from the look of him. He is dressed in a somewhat shabby suit, and his only luggage seems to be the small briefcase at his side.

Catching a stare from the station master and his cronies, the newcomer flashes a ticket (a passenger, then) and begins to wait for the surveyors and their equipment to finish loading onto the train. He surveys the platform and spots the young woman, glances around once more, then wanders in her direction.

The woman in question is growing somewhat worried, and somewhat irritated. She was supposed to be met here by her prospective teammates (with none such to be seen), and the porters are pretty obviously going to ignore her presence on the platform. Distracted as she is, she doesn't notice the approaching man until he is almost at her side.

He flashes a wry, but polite smile as he gives her a brief bow and asks, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but to notice. D'you need a hand with your bags? I don't have much to carry, and I'm afraid the staff here is unlikely to be of much help, so ..."

He finishes with a 'what can you do?' shrug and raises his eyebrows at her inquisitively. He speaks with a British accent - perhaps he immigrated from one of the colonies.

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Onboard, Jameson plasters himself up against the corridor wall, forced to wait as a line of porters bulls its way through the cab. They are manhandling a number of large pieces of baggage onto the train, trailed by a number of small, twitchy-looking men in somewhat out-of-fashion business suits. One speaks up hesitantly as he elbows past Jameson, cautioning a porter:

"Ah ... excuse me? Excuse me? That is, ah, rather delicate - if you could ..."

The parade makes its way toward the baggage cars in back, bumping everyone along the way to the side. Jameson (wedged into the doorway of a convenient compartment) is growing kind of antsy - he is supposed to be meeting the field team's new doctor out on the platform, and these guys are very much in the way.

Craning his neck, Jameson tries to look out one of the windows on the other side of the corridor, but the angle is bad and the clutter of men and baggage cuts out any view of the station he might have achieved. At any rate, he can't see the doctor. Or, he doesn't think so - King described her at the briefing back in Baltimore.

... Dr. Radha Kolani. She shouldn't be too difficult to pick out: oriental, rather young for a doctor - I believe only nineteen or twenty. She recently immigrated from India at my invitation, so she may be somewhat out of sorts. I've had her ride out to meet you in Texas - you'll pick her up along the way ...

The rest of the team is here too, but is currently tied up - some kind of issue with the tickets. The conductor let someone (that is, Jameson) go to meet the doctor, but that's it. Miserable timing, and it means that everyone is confined to their compartments until Kate (the senior K.I.S. employee on this trip) manages to sort things out.

King seemed to believe that Kate's skills would be useful this time around, though he made it very clear that she wasn't to be fully part of the team's activities.

... I want you gentlemen to take very good care of Kate. I cannot begin to express her importance to this company, and after what happened to Rhiannon in March, I think I am understandably reluctant to risk my special talent in the field. You will need her, but for the love of God, keep her out of the line of fire ...

The corridor finally clears, and Jameson steps out of his doorway - glancing back at the last of the new passengers, who is disappearing into the next car, twittering nervously at a pair of porters hefting his baggage just ahead.

Jameson heads for the end of the car and slips out onto the platform. Standing there, he takes in the hot, dry air for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brilliant glare of the sun. Not quite the old stomping grounds, but still - feels almost like home.

Tucking down the deep brim of his hat, he glances around the platform. There's the doctor alright, and she's definitely easier on the eyes than most such. She seems to be in conversation with a thin, sharp featured Arab in a somewhat shabby suit - who could be anything from a friend of hers to some grifter that just latched onto her as an easy mark.

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Jameson steps away from the train as a rather impolite bump from behind informs him that he is in the way of the other passengers. He takes a deep breath of the warm arid Texas air. The smell of engine grease, human sweat, and dirt mixing in his sinuses.

Well I should go rescue to the doctor, she's looking somewhat concerned he muses to himself as he begins to saunter across the platform.

Jameson pats down his clean suit. Well cut from linen it is comfortable but he wonders why he ever let Kate convince him to wear a suit of such light color. He finally locates what he was looking for in one of the inside pockets and pulls out a small wooden box. He slides the cover aside and pulls a wooden toothpick from the box, flipping it casually into his mouth before replacing the box to its pocket.

As Jameson approaches Dr. Kolani he lets loose with a sharp whistle before clearing his throat. "Dr. Kolani I presume?" he asks whisking his hat off his head and making a partial bow. Best to be a little formal, King will be less than pleased if have issues with another team member. "Jameson Bradford at your service," he finishes his hand partially extended.

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Radha picks up her duffel bag and valise, slinging the former across her back and tucking the other in the crook of her arm. She gives the Arab a brief smile, grateful for his courtesy but wary of letting anyone touch her luggage. If they saw a few of the drugs and chemicals in there...

"Thank you, but I can manage myself," she says politely in English. "You had better get on the train yourself."

Her eyes widen as someone whistles closely to her and she spins in one smooth, graceful motion, even encumbered with luggage as she is. When the handsome (for a sahib) blonde man introduces himself, Radha shakes his hand. "I am Dr. Kolani," she says in Hindu-accented English.

Radha Kolani is a slight-looking young woman of a little under medium height, her black hair drawn into a thick braid that hangs down past her hips. Despite the obvious impoverishment indicated in her pre-war grey cotton shirtwaist and darker grey-black linen skirt, both much-mended if of good make and material, everything about her is neat and clean. A red line is painted in the parting of her shiny hair while a matching dot lies above a pair of expressive, doe-like brown eyes. Her left ring-finger bears a plain ring of twisted gold wire and a golden pendant depicting a smiling four-armed woman in traditional Hindu garments carrying a lotus in two of her hands and sitting on a lotus hangs from a twisted gold chain around her neck. Her ears have been pierced more than once, three simple golden hoops decorating her right ear while another four, interlocked with a fine chain bearing small medallions engraved with foreign but calligraphic-type lettering, hang in her right.

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Jameson flashes a dazzling smile as he takes the doctor's hand, "A pleasure ma'am. May I help you with you baggage? I'm afraid that it's just you and I for now."

He says the last as he places his left hand on the brim of his hat and sweeps it across the front toward the train. Whomever the Arab is best not to get any ideas about the expedition team.

"We should board quickly so that you can get comfortable, these train rides tend to be rather long ..."

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The Arab tips his battered fedora and replies (about as Jameson is walking up), saying, "Thought I'd offer. Jamal Al Najjar at your service."

The last is said by way of farewell, and he turns to board the train. The engine's whistle blows two long squeals, and he mentions off-hand to Radha and Jameson: "Had better hurry."

He shows his ticket as he gets on and is shuffled off toward the end of the train. Radha and Jameson are not far behind, stepping up between the cars just a few moments before the train slowly begins to go into motion, leaving the perfunctory station behind on the tracks.

The low song of the accelerating train evolves into the vibrating clatter of wheels along tracks as the two make their way back toward the K.I.S. compartments. Two cars down the line, they meet Kate in the corridor going in the opposite direction, apparently looking for them. Kate lights up upon seeing them, flashing a grateful smile at Jameson and greeting Radha enthusiastically.

"You'd be Dr. Kolani? It's an honor - Tony has shown me some of your parents' papers. Their deaths were a great loss for us all."

She seems to be deliberately blocking the corridor, and trying not to show it. Going on, she tells Jameson, "I cleared up that problem with our tickets - though I still have no idea what the problem was. Unfortunately ... something else has come up."

This is said with a rather frustrated frown as she glances over her shoulder. Coming up behind her is a steward in the train line's uniform, who - upon reaching the trio - declares, "I'm afraid we have no more room in first class. Your associate will have to have her ticket downgraded. We can, of course, offer a partial refund, with our apologies."

Kate glances back to Jameson and Radha with a grim cut to her mouth, then turns back, saying (probably not for the first time), "She's supposed to be sharing my compartment. We arranged it by wire days ago."

To which the steward simply replies, "I'm afraid that won't be possible, ma'am. Company policy. Whoever arranged that with you must have been mistaken."

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Jameson smirks at the steward and offers a quick wink to the ladies. "My good sir, I will of course, give up my berth for the lady. Please show me where you were going to sit the lady here and she may take my spot ...

"... No, no, I'll have none of your company regulations and mumbo-jumbo, after the journey my friend here has made already she needs to have proper accommodations. I, on the other hand, feel almost at home and will be quite comfortable enough." Jameson attempts to make it abundantly clear that nothing short of cooperation will be tolerated and that Dr. Kohlani will be berthed in first class with the others in the group.

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Radha inclines her head to Kate, tears glimmering in her eyes for a moment before she wipes them from her eyes. "Thank you," she says quietly. She then turns to the steward.

"Sahib Steward, I am the ... hired employee for these people. Mem'sahib Schaefer here has an ongoing illness that I must tend to, so it is imperative that I stay with her. Did not Sahib King wish me to monitor her condition at all times, I would accede to your request. But I cannot. I will take a pallet in the hallway if necessary, but I must be close to Mem'sahib Schaefer at all times."

She prays to Lakshmi that the other two have enough wit to follow with her deception. Besides, there was something a touch off with Katherine Schaefer, and she needed to know what it was.

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The steward looks as if he suspects that Jameson must be somewhat thick, but turns away to listen to Radha. Her deception isn't all that convincing, but perhaps it is easier to pigeonhole than to argue - he seems to at least be considering letting it go.

Kate nods (somewhat reluctantly, it seems), and adds, "Yes - my employer went to a great deal of trouble to get her here. If you could ...?"

The steward hesitates, then bows shallowly, saying, "Very well. Please be discrete - the company rarely allows exceptions, and the other passengers may be upset to see preferential treatment."

He steps aside to let the trio past, casting his eyes skyward as he is forced to press up against the wall to let Radha pass with her duffel. He continues in the opposite direction, leaving Kate and Jameson to lead Radha to the team's compartments, a number of cars further along the train.

The team is taking up more than half of a car, with the men broken up over two compartments and a third compartment (until now solely occupied by Kate) turned over to the ladies. The recent 'issue' with the team's tickets came totally out of the blue - they'd ridden on one train or another all the way from Baltimore without a problem, only for something to come up here.

Regardless, that issue has apparently ironed itself out, and the team is free to move about. Opening the third compartment, Kate shows Radha in and leaves the door slightly ajar in case any of the others come knocking. The room (representative of the three occupied by the team) is fairly well sized - large enough for four travelers to ride with a minimum of discomfort.

Despite being the sole resident of the compartment thus far, Kate has certainly managed to use the space. Sheaves of file folders line the wall under the window, and the fold-down table is littered with papers - a plethora of electrical diagrams, sketches of machine parts, and many notes neatly written in what would appear to be German.

In contrast, Kate appears to be traveling light in terms of personal possessions - confining herself to a single trunk stowed at the foot of her bunk. Of course, there could be more stored in baggage.

Hastily, Kate begins to neaten her scraps of paper, apologizing, "Excuse the mess - I've been trying to get some work done on the way."

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Radha laughs softly as she puts her duffel bag and valise on her bunk. "I spent the trip here working on herbal formulas myself," she answers quietly. Once her baggage is stowed, she straightens herself up and looks Kate squarely in the eyes.

"Mem'sahib Schaefer, I will be blunt about this, as I am a doctor trained in your medical tradition as well as a healer trained in three others. I think that there may be something wrong with you, because I am detecting something not quite right about you. Sometimes people seem healthy, then suddenly fall ill or worse, and a myriad of subtle clues that are only found in hindsight point to the cause. I apologise for the bluntness, but when you have the time, may I give you a physical? Don't worry - when I have the time, everyone will be undergoing one."

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Kate freezes momentarily when Radha first mentions that something could be wrong with her, then somewhat slowly continues gathering her papers. Though she doesn't look back at Radha, tension is still apparent - her body echoing some stress or fear.

As Radha finishes, she tosses the stacks of papers into a pair of file folders and wraps the folders in rubber bands to keep them closed. When she looks up, folders in hand, she is hiding her tension much better, though her eyes refuse to stay fixed on Radha - moving nervously to the corners of the room. With all apparent cheer, she replies:

"Oh, you don't need to do that. I'm really just fine. It's the ride, you know? Trains always make me a little ill - like sea sickness, though I've never really had problems with boats. I suppose that's a little odd, isn't it?"

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Jameson leaves the new doctor to get settled, and returns to the portion of the car shared by himself and the other men.

"Well gents looks like we can feel free to get shot up a lot more now. The new doc is younger than I would have figured but if King chose her she must be pretty amazing."

Jameson flops back into the club chair he had evacuated earlier and picks up a deck of playing cards. He begins to expertly shuffle the deck, no fancy tricks but he has the air of somebody who has played cards a great deal.

"Anybody want to continue the poker game?" he asks, referring to the running game the five men have been playing since they left Baltimore. Surprisingly there has been no clear leader and despite his experience with the cards there are days when you feel like you just can't win. Jameson felt like he was going through a week of these.

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Radha nods slowly. "Of course, mem'sahib. If you will excuse me for a moment? I must speak to Sahib Bradford about team physicals." She picks up her valise and leaves the room, heading to where the men are. When she arrives there, her demeanour is professional.

"Sahib Bradford, I fear we might have a problem with Mem'sahib Schaefer," she says softly to the cowboy. "There is something not right with her, and she will not speak of it, saying instead that it is train-sickness and acting evasive. In my experience, that suggests she is either addicted to drugs or is incredibly nervous about something."

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Jameson looks up from a decent 2 pair and nods, "Umm are you sure? I've never seen any signs that Kate does any drugs and in my experience she has as much resolve as anybody else on the team. Umm, raise two dollars." He finishes the last as he drops a couple of bills into the pot in the center of the table.

"I'll go talk to her after this hand. But I don't know that she'll tell me anything now if she hasn't already."

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Radha sighs heavily.

"Sahib Bradford, I am a doctor, trained in four medicinal systems, three of which are thousands of years old. I do not know what is wrong with Mem'sahib Schaefer, but I do know that it would be unwise to confront her with it at this moment. If I may offer my medical opinion, keeping a close watch on her may be the best idea."

She has to wonder how long it will take before she starts banging her head against the wall when she adds, "I will also want to conduct team physicals as soon as possible."

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Radha frowns slightly.

"Sahib, she acted very nervously when I confronted her with it, evasive to the point that I have started to consider she may be hiding something. It's as if..." She sighs, trying to find the words. "It is as if someone with her face is trying to portray her. I know it sounds stupid to you, but it is the only way I can describe it. I ask of you, in the name of Vishnu and his wife Laksmi - " she touches her pendant " - to watch her. Perhaps I am being foolish and you know her best, but merely offer her support, do not confront her about it. Please."

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Blaine makes his ponderous way into the car, apparently returned from the dining car. His right arm is in a sling, but no cast, and he has fresh bandages on his shaved head. He doesn't show any signs of pain, but then again he always does have a scowl on. He heads for Jameson's table, a plate with a tall club sandwhich in his left hand.

"Deal me in Bradford, my luck's gotta change sometime." he sets his sandwhich down and looks about to sit when he notices the doctor.

"Oh, pardon me Doc. Blaine...Blaine MacAllister." he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his badge and shows it to her. He puts it away and awkwardly holds out his left hand. "Pleased to meet you." he then rather blatantly stares at her feet. "Y'oughta get yourself a new pair of shoes there Doc, those have had it." He then sits down and takes a large bite of his sandwhich.

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Radha blushes with embarrassment after Blaine introduces himself to her. "Forgive me, Sahib MacAllister. I am Doctor R. Radha Kolani... Just Doctor Radha Kolani to you Westerners. It is Indian tradition to put the initial of one's father or husband if one is female and married in front of one's name."

She looks at Blaine with a professional glance before deigning to reply to his comment. "Sahib MacAllister, I would buy a new pair of shoes if I had the money. I even have perfectly good sandals from my homeland. I only dress this way because of the sahib attitude that 'native' fashion is somehow lesser than theirs. I personally find it restrictive, immodest and completely lacking feminine grace."

She gestures to her worn garments and shoes. "I do not like these garments, but they were the best I could afford. I lost my husband, my parents and most of my possessions at once. Please do not judge me from my garments, but from my medical expertise, which is considerable."

There is no arrogance to the last sentence, but merely stating a fact.

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Blaine was busy looking at the card game and chewing too much sandwich in one bite when he hears the doctor's response. He looks up in some surprise at what she says and he's about to speak up but all he can manage is:

"I bement oo thay", but his mouth is too full. He holds up a hand for patience and gulps down the sandwich as he stands up again.

"Oh Doc, hey, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry." This might be the first time anyone has seen Blaine blush or look a bit rattled. "It's just that...my Ma always told me to take good care of my feet, you being a doctor would probably agree right? So, y'know I try to give people a nickel's worth a' free advice all the time. Just ask Bradford here, or the Kid. I didn't mean anything by it, just that people wear their shoes too long sometimes without thinking about it y'know? I figured a doc like you, maybe just too busy, and are always on the move y'know? I'm real sorry. I mean with a mug as ugly as mine, who am I to say anything about how they look y'know? Just givin' some friendly advice is all. Again, real sorry Doc. Here have a seat." He steps aside offering his chair, and reaches over for another to sit on, still red faced from his faux pas.

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Radha's jaw actually drops in shock at the sight of an American sahib apologising before she regains her composure and shakes her head. "Keep the seat, Sahib MacAllister. We wouldn't want the steward to think I'm getting above myself." The last was said with heavy sarcasm, then followed by an ironic smile.

"I guess I shall indulge myself by imagining that fool in India trying to get on a first-class carriage. The Brahmin caste, of which I am one, would make him travel with the donkeys if the British did not intervene."

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Locky, being as disturbingly quiet on his bunk as could be expected, randomly pipes up.

"I knew a kid in the circus who took the train with the donkeys. He always said they were better travelling friends than the clowns, that's for sure..."

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Blaine looks at her in a bit of confusion and then realizes what she's talking about as he glares over at the steward.

"Oh...that...Take my seat Doc, please. I'll talk to that guy if he has a problem with it. Believe me, if he does I'll change his mind." he says making a fist with his left hand, and leaning onto on the table, a moment or two later a nasty popping and cracking side can be heard. At first it sounds like the table might be breaking, then the doctor realizes the noise is coming from those massive and gnarled knuckles of his hand.

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At that moment, a tall dark-haired gentleman and an older servant enter the quarters. Before the gentleman can speak, the servant mutters something to him and the gentleman gives out a snorting laugh.

"Perhaps, Jozef. It would be unusual if you were wrong."

Turning fully on the woman,

"Greetings Dr. Kolani, I am Count Janos Rakozi, Graf von Kadar."

He emphasizes the last bit with a clip of his heels followed by a slight bow.

Looking over at Blaine, he arches an eyebrow.

"Remember, Blaine, we are dealing with a slightly different culture in this region of your homeland. If they chose to consider skin pigmentation and country of origin over competancy, so be it. It is there loss. Besides, we aren't here to crusade against every injustice, but to pursue Anthony's business interests."

"If it makes you feel better, we can thrash the ignorant cretin once you we no longer have need of his tolerance. Either that, or we take over this train right now."

The last is said with the such an air of surety that it can't be doubted that the Count thinks the deed is not only possible, but could be accomplished with little effort by those assembled around the good doctor.

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Radha raises an elegant eyebrow.

"Violence is the last thing you should do. India is one of the most discriminating places in the world - our caste system has been abused dreadfully by certain Brahmins who forget what their duties to the gods are. I must confess that I have looked upon the Vashya and Untouchables with pity before - now I find myself in their shoes in your country. I think it is a lesson Laksmi has seen fit to teach me. It is not easy, but this is not India or anywhere else where Hindus might live - this is America. I am grateful for your intentions, but any punishment would surely fall upon me - and we would dishonour Sahib King with our actions."

Her tone makes it clear that dishonouring King is the worst of the two consequences.

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  • 2 weeks later...

After an awkward silence which felt to be weeks long Jameson pipes up, "Well now that we're all introduced and caught up on things why don't we sit down and discuss what the heck we're doing on a train to the middle of, well wherever it is we're going.

"Frankly I'm not sure if I should be worried or not that we're getting close to my old stomping grounds. I may not have made any enemies of note but that doesn't mean that I may not run into parts of my past better left undisturbed."

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Janos looks non-plussed by Radha's chiding.

"Dr. Kolani, injustices do not end unless they are challenged."

He shrugs and sits down with a thump, followed by a wince.

"Still, since you do not care and it doesn't affect me, this can easily ignored."

"Jameson", Janos continues with an easy smile, "we should really get to see the background that forged you. After all, we have had a look into Blaine's and it didn't kill us ... barely. How much worse can yours be?"

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"I wouldn't say that it was upbringing here in the southwest that made me what I am today. Through I did learn to shoot here, I haven't heard from my mentor in a while he's very likely passed on by now."

Jameson pauses and rubs his chin, "Then again he's pulled that trick once before already ..." Jameson trails off with a shrug, "Actually I'd say that the hardest part of my life was between the Foreign Legion in Northern Africa and my exploits in the Great War.

"Around here, well lets just say that when my parents died I didn't take it well and was pretty much a delinquent for a few years ... People around here have long memories and I'd hate to run into somebody I crossed when I was young and stupid ..."

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Janos smiles at Jameson's last comment.

"My friend, you still are young and stupid."

He looks over at Blaine and grins.

"We all are."

"The Zepplin affair should have affirmed that," he adds with a chuckle.

Looking over at Rahda,

"Doctor, we are going to give you plenty of opportunities to practice your profession, if past conduct is any indicator ... mainly on us. We have a way of attracting some truly ghastly injuries in the course of our adventures for Herr King."

Scanning back over the assembled,

"Is this not true?"

Jozef looks on somewhat dissaprovingly at his master's cavalier attitude toward risking his own life.

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Jameson laughs aloud, almost boyishly, "My friend if not for my brash stupidity I think my life would be rather plain." He laughs again at his own jest, its plain that none of the individuals in the room would be able to live a plain life, even if they tried.

"But seriously we do seem to be drawn to the most improbable and dangerous situations. Doctor Zorbo's attack in New York being the crown jewel thus far." He pauses a mirthful twinkle in his eye, "Perhaps we should be more careful with our tongues, we may yet scare off the good doctor, though I must confess, I'm not sure whom I have paid more money to since working for Tony, Doctors or Tailors."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Locky pipes up again from his bunk, eyes still closed as he tries to sleep.

"And at any rate, I've seen the heat you and Blaine pack for vacations - I feel sorry for anyone who tries to pick on Miss Kolani."

Locky's eyes flick wide open as he suddenly realises that he's forgotten to introduce himself. He flicks his feet into the side of the bunk's matress, and flips down to Kolani's bunk just below him.

"Please forgive my manners Miss Kolani! I'm Locky McKenzie, pleased to meet you!" He performs a passable bow-like gesture in his upside-down state.

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Radha stares in shock at Locky for a moment before laughing. It is an unexpected sound, more so for her than for anyone else.

"I mean no disrespect, Mister McKenzie, but I have not seen such flexibility since my homeland," she explains once she has stopped laughing. "We have men and women called 'yogis' there who are capable of such feats after years of meditation and exercise. For you to do it from youth - that is extraordinary."

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John looks over, laying in his bunk. Having feigned sleep whilst paying attention to the conversation, he does this no longer. Cracking his neck, he gets out of bed, hopping to the floor. He pulls his jacket on from whatever hook or post it was resting on, and approaches Dr. Kolani.

"I suppose I should follow suit and introduce myself as well"

John releases a deep belly laugh before continuing, hand outstretched.

"I am John Adams Frederickson, although many of our compatriots here refer to me as Doctor Mystery. You can refer to me in whatever method you deem fit, Ma'am."

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