No post until I feel better

My head is a stuffy mess and when I tried writing earlier it was so full of typos it wasn't even funny. I just can't think right so I am on break for a couple of days, sorry.

The Journal of Water and Air IV

I went on a tour of the dirigible today, soaking up as much as I could, though some of what I have learned will not be written about for the paper for security reasons. All of my letters to the paper, like the letters of all of our armed forces, will go though the censures. It is the depressing truth that my carefully chosen words and neat phrases might fall, never to see the light of day, under the black pen of the government.

The captain heard I was wandering the ship and sent a member of the crew to invite me up to the bridge to take a proper look around. I had been so terrified my first visit that I had noticed nothing about it, now that I was sure I was welcome I soaked it all in. The instruments, the radios, the sweeping windows, far more spectacular then the ones in the mess hall. The officers meandered, specialists in their arts, deciding where we were, speaking into the radio, keeping watch out of the windows. They spoke in a different language, though I recognized the words, they spoke of wind, lift and pressure in acronyms and numbers. I have been thinking about my bafflement ever since and now I have a new concern, when I truly understand my new environment will other people still be able to understand what I write? I cannot write about it because I don't understand it but when I understand will others know what I am speaking of or will I take on all of the feeling and passion of a mechanics manual. If that is what happens I doubt I will keep my job for long,

I am starting to like this life I must admit, now that I get to know it. Everyone is kind to me, which I didn't expect and the food is better then what civilians normally get in rations. I am even getting used to wearing a uniform, though I still haven't learned how to keep mine as neat as the members of the crew keep theirs. So for I have seen nothing to look out for, and I intend to write my father and tell him that. His love of the sea gets in the way of him accepting new technology. I think I will also mention that he knows the captain of the dirigible, maybe that will make him feel better.

I am writing this now because we are in the middle of a storm. The captain said he saw it coming and he tried to get us above it but it was no use, the storm is higher then we can go and we are being rocked on all sides by the wind and rain. I had become comfortable in the safety of this ship, and forgotten how much at the mercy of nature we are, when the wind decides to go against us we have a lot of difficulty fighting it, and sometimes we can't. This is one of those times, I think that we have been blown far from where the captain wants to be from the look on his face. He hasn't slept all night just trying to keep us in the air, though of course none of us have gotten much sleep with us cast on the elements like we are. Even if the enemy never sees us we might never make it. All of the original fears I had about this business have turned out well founded.

I'm lucky that my letter to my father is still in the mail room. Once this storm is over I am going to go and ask for it back, I don't want to sound like an idiot and I am sure that he knows all too well how these things really work. If he got my letter he would just think I was an idiot and he would be right. I was an idiot for forgetting the nature of my new assignment. I will try not to fall into that sense of complacency again.

To be continued...

The Journal of Water and Air III

Yesterday will be remembered as one of the strangest of my life. We are now air born, though I have no idea what our orders are because only the captain knows. I was horribly air sick the day before , I am told it is a common thing to happen, but I felt much better yesterday and was able to go and eat breakfast in the mess with everyone else. After breakfast I loitered in the mess so that I could look out of the gallery windows and see the landscape passing below us. It was a breathtaking experience though I don't remember a time I have felt so small. I was so mesmerized by the scene that I didn't even realize at first that the captain had come to stand right beside me. It was the first time I had seen him since our first meeting since he spends almost all of his time on the bridge and I had been laid up in my room.

“I was just admiring the scenery,” I commented. “I find it remarkable, though of course I'm sure you're used to it by now.”

“Not at all,” he responded, still as serious as when I had seen him the first time. “I continue to admire it every day, though I doubt I can look at it with as much harmlessness as you seem to. I am always reminded that all it would take is the slightest error on my part and every one of us would fall from this great hight. It is a heavy weight.” Suddenly the view looked much more sinister and I stepped back from the window. I had no desire to be reminded that my feet weren't on solid ground at the moment. My moment of comfort was shattered and I felt ill again, not from motion this time but from fear.

“How can you deal with the responsibility?” I asked. I must admit that I think that I would kill myself if I thought I was making choices for so many lives. He might seem serious but he also seemed calm and I found that I had a new respect for him.

“You grow used to it, to the point where your shoulders no longer feel their burden. If I am not mistaken your father carried a weight much the same on the water as I do in the air.” I was completely shocked to hear him speak of my father, I knew I had not mentioned him and I didn't think that my documents talked about him either.

“Do you know my father?” was the only reason I could think of that he would know him to be a captain. It was incomprehensible that my father should know a man in the air force though after looking with such contempt at the sky.

“I did know him, he was my captain, many, many years ago,” said the captain, he smiled for the first time I have ever seen. It was like a flash of light suddenly crossed his face. “I was on the ocean as a boy, before the dirigibles took flight and captured my young imagination. Your father was a good man, he spoke of you often, I thought it must be you when I heard your name, it isn't a common one.” In the face of the captains enthusiasm I could say nothing, he chatted on about the old days, his face back to serious but not as careworn now, until a member of the crew came to get him with a message from his first officer and he had to return to the bridge. I know that he was truly speaking of my father because of the incidents he talked about, I remember hearing of them in my childhood, but it was still almost as if he were talking of a different man. The man he talked about was firm but kind, stern but gentle, I always seemed to see only the firm and stern, and I am sure that the old man never talked of me to anyone. We never did see eye to eye.

Having been fully ruffled by the captain I spent the rest of the day having a crew member show me around the ship and explain to me how each part of it worked. It did accentuate what the captain had said about one error sending us all crashing. After I was done with my tour I sat to write my correspondence and an article about our aerial might for the paper, by the time it was finished it was late and I went straight to bed which is why I have only written about all of this today. I am not likely to forget it any time soon however.

To be continued...

The Journal of Water and Air II

I'm not sure what is expected of me in this new world I find myself in. No amount of research and briefing when I was at the paper could have prepared me for the real thing. It is hard for me to even believe that this is the same type of vehicle as the other dirigibles that I have been on. What differences there are between a commercial zeppelin and a military one. Of course it isn't just the type of dirigible that is different in this case, there is another large difference between this one and the last I was on and it is one that terrifies me. This ship uses hydrogen instead of helium. It amazes me that they haven't banned the creation of all dirigibles instead of just commercial ones since the helium embargo. It's as if they think it's okay if people in the armed forces blow up. I have heard that in the army smoking is a great comfort but this comfort is forbidden to the air force for obvious reasons. This means that on top of everything else I am forced to give up the solace of my cigarettes.

I reported to the airfield at eight o'clock in the morning like I had been ordered. There was a member of the crew waiting for me when I arrived and instantly the whirlwind began. My luggage was scooped up by one member of the crew, while a petty officer began to lecture me about how I should have arrived in uniform, all the while my guide was trying to respectfully whisk me off to the bridge. He finally won over the petty officer by reminding that the captain wanted to see me.

It seemed as if the captain had been waiting for me as well, and that only succeeded in worrying me more. From my experience with my father having a captain wait for you, and making them wait, would lead to an all mighty tongue lashing and a permanent hatred. The captain didn't act angry though, just serious, during our very brief meeting. He told me very frankly but without any personal dislike that he hadn't wanted a reporter on his ship and that he only allowed me on his ship because he had been ordered to. He said that he understood that I had no training but that he expected me to learn and not drag my feet about it. He also added that he expected me to do my share, that on dirigibles they don't like to have a pound of dead weight, but I still don't know how he intends to put me to use.

I was then swept from the bridge without being able to say anything in response and told that they didn't want to see me there unless I was invited. Then my guide showed me to my room and left me to my own devices. Like the officers I get my own room, which is more then I expected. It isn't on the lower deck so it doesn't have a window but I can live with that in exchange for privacy to write in. It's smaller then the cabin of a steamer in size, the desk is a fold away and I can't get up into my bunk when the desk is lowered. I suspect that my portable typewriter is going to become my new love in this confined space. My room also has a wash stand and a small closet so I can address basics in my room without having to mingle with the crew. If the glances that I got while I was dragged through the ship are any indication I will be grateful to not have much to do with them. They look a rough lot and I suspect that they would flatten me into the deck if I bothered them.

I will not be able to avoid the others completely, the mess is public and has scheduled meals at which I am to eat. I have yet to see the quality of the food yet but I have steeled myself for the worst. I have heard stories about what the food given to the armed forces can be like sometimes. The food isn't all that grate even at home with the food rationing going on. On the plus side the mess hall has windows that can be opened so I will get some fresh air and sunlight even though I am now going to be traveling inside of a giant balloon. I have to go now though, I have to write my first real article to send back to the paper about everything that has happened so far, instead of indulging in my own private self reflection.

To be continued...

The Journal of Water and Air

I have no idea how long this journal floated in the river before I noticed it as I was crossing the bridge. With the paper shortage of the war it wasn't something I could just pass by. I felt like a fool climbing down the muddy bank to go fish garbage out of the water, I am sure that every person who crossed the river was laughing at me. Still, once I had taken the trouble to climb down the bank I would not give up my prize or I really would have been a fool.

Once I had this sodden journal in my possession I returned to the bridge, panting and slightly damp myself. I would have been infuriated had I discovered the pages were full after all that trouble but I was relieved to find that only the first few pages had been filled. They were covered in numbers and what looked like accounts. I tore those pages out and threw them in the first rubbish can I came to, making this journal truly mine. Having gone home and changed my clothing, leaving this journal behind a radiator to dry, I headed out to say goodbye to my father.

I suppose I ought to be grateful that I have not been sent into the war before. It is one of the few times that I have been thankful for my weakness and sickliness. The misfortune of my career made it inevitable that I would end up on the battlefield however. I will admit that despite the fact that I have expected this to happen, I am filled with dread of my departure. One of the reasons I am keeping this journal is to help release this feeling. I certainly cannot share it with another person, with so many off to war and dying cowardice is not tolerated by anyone or anywhere.

Things have always been awkward between my father and I. Most of my last visit with my father was silent, even when to break the discomfort I suggested we walk along the docks. Even now that my father has retired from the ocean I doubt he will ever live far from the sea.

“So you'll be on an airship then,” my father said finally, I had known he wouldn't be happy about that. “Don't trust them, they aren't reliable, watch yourself.” Father looked up at the sky with total disgust , disgust that was so intense that it remained on his face even when he looked back down at the ocean. Having said his piece my father fell silent again and I grew so uncomfortable that I finally excused myself.

My gear had been sent to my rooms by the time I got back from saying goodbye to father. I sorted through it and signed the douser for it, but looking it over made me sick to my stomach. I am a writer, I was never meant to spill blood, but now I was being handed the tools for both trades. It was a union between the newspaper and the air force that resulted in the packages on my bed, a fact all too accentuated by the emblems that covered them. This marriage that left me defenseless against the war apparently felt the need to then rub itself in my face.

I have now finished my final packing and finding myself at lose ends I pulled out this journal. Now I have written it all out on paper I feel a little better and my alarm clock is ticking me out a lullaby, reminding that I have to get up early.

To be continued....

The Game of.....

I am taking a creative writing class and is the very rough draft of the short, short story I am writing for it.

CHICKEN, I thought I's so cool, too cool to die, too cool to burn, well let's test that. I'm freakin' out at this point, my seatbelt has me stuck, and I can smell the smoke. I watch movies, cars on fire blow up. All I wanted was to show I wasn't a coward, chicken.

They keep pushin' me though, they'd never let me be. So I had somethin' to show and let them say what it'd be, chicken. Not real smart but they'd got me in a corner. So they got us facin' each other, me in the car, and their leader lookin' at me, just standin' there. I wait 'til they've got it all set up and they wave at me, so I put my foot on the gas. It would've been fine if the guy would've just moved out of my way. He had no business holdin' out so long. I'd already promised I wouldn't turn first 'cause loosing would have no point.

I figure I've lost as I get my seatbelt off, 'cause last time I looked he was still standin' there and the car's in a tree. I don't know for sure 'cause the last few seconds my eyes were closed, chicken. I get the door open an' get out. People are clappin' me on the back an' tellin' me how great I am, I don't get it. So they tell me he ran an' I kept on goin' straight, so I've won. They figure it's the first time he's lost, so I'm sort of a hero.

So now I'm gonna be left alone, which was all I wanted, but I wrecked the family car an' the cops came, ended up at the station. I'm a minor so it doesn't matter much turns out, first time too, got off light considerin' all they said I'd done. My mom says she's sendin' me to Oklahoma to stay with Grandma. So none of it changes 'cause no one's gonna believe me if I talk about this over there. I figure people'll mess with me there just like here, I don't look like much. Guess I'll have to do it all over when I get there to prove it. I'm no chicken.

The Captain's Peace X

Once Rosemonde had left Annabel hailed another cab, they were going to have to get to the ball very quickly or Alexander would realize that something must be wrong. This gave George time to think about everything that had happened and start to piece it together. He had told himself that he wasn't going to question his new boss but now that everything was over he had far too much unanswered to not curb at least a little of his curiosity.

“So that was your teacher we just saved? You could have told me you know.” George hadn't meant to say the last part and he was shocked and more then a little appalled to hear his own reproachful tone. To his shock though Annabel looked guilty and ashamed instead of angry with him.”

“It wasn't like I didn't trust you really. I didn't think you were going to go report us, I just wasn't sure how loyal you were going to be. We were doing something dangerous and had you been captured before the plan went through I didn't want you falling to torture. The world is not kind to captured spies and I was afraid. Monsieur Rosemonde is very important to me if you couldn't tell.”

“You don't have to worry about it, I'm not really angry with you,” George was ashamed in turn for making Annabel feel bad. “I just wanted to let you know that you can trust me. I am not going to give you away.” They fell silent after this declaration, both of them too embarrassed to say anything else. It continued this way until they were safely in the cab on their way to the ball. It was the most privacy they had had together truly for several days. Even when they had been alone before the job had been looming over them in such a way that they both felt like they were being watched. If only for a couple of minutes they were free.

“Monsieur Rosemonde taught you how to do your work as a spy then?” George asked. It had been on his mind since hearing the conversation between Rosemonde and Annabel.

“He taught me French first, when I was only around twelve. The government was looking for females with connections to act as spies back then though and he saw talent in me. Being a French refugee the government had a lot of interest in him and he had their ears. So he taught me both the language and how to serve my country and I will be forever grateful to him. I hadn't seen him in years though, when Napoleon offered asylum to the refugees the English government ordered Monsieur Rosemonde back across the channel to serve as our eyes and ears. I had thought I would never see him again and I actually cried when I heard that he had been taken captive.”

“But our government freed him,” George pointed out. “You must have known that they would.”

“You should know, if you want to continue this life, that spies rarely last long enough to be saved once they are captive. Even when they do last long enough there are times when the government of your country chooses to simply pretend that you never existed. Monsieur Rosemonde was lucky, he knows things that the English would like to know so he was worth freeing. Hope that you are so lucky if the time comes,” Annabel added bitterly. “It is part of my prayers nightly.”

“I would like to continue working with you,” George admitted. “I don't think I would like working with anyone else but I don't mind working under you.” She nodded her head and he took that to be assent. He decided he wasn't going to tell her that the real reason he wanted to continue working with her was a vague chivalric feeling she was vulnerable and needed protecting. She seemed like the sort who would take that badly, even if the rest of the world would agree that was his duty as a gentleman. He wasn't going to tell her that he was seriously considering asking her to marry him, well not yet. That could come, with time, and Alexander could bring on all of his duels.

The Captain's Peace IX

As George had suspected the door that matched Annabel's description was a cell. He looked back down the hall to double check that this was where he wanted to be and then opened the little observation window in the cell door. The man who looked back at him was emancipated and pale from obvious long imprisonment but there was still a gleam of command in his eyes that made George instinctively want to call him sir. George pulled out his saw and started work on the door with no words passing between him and the other man, who simply looked on with some interest as the door fell to George's tools.

“Are you English, sir?” George asked once he was in the cell. The man looked even weaker and more sickly now that they were next to one another.

“No,” said the man, his voice heavily accented, “but I speak your language. What do we do now?”

“We leave, come with me sir and we will see if we can't get you out of here.” George was even more self conscious as they left the building then he had been as he had entered it. He was still well disguised but he was painfully aware that his companion was there for all eyes to see. He was also too weak to travel quickly which made George painfully aware of how much time had passed. He was about to jump out of the window without even considering the guard having possibly returned but his companion stopped him and looked both ways very carefully before he would let George go and then help him down.

As George and the former prisoner walked down the street to return to the alley where he had agreed to meet Annabel George could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. He was sure that he looked the part of the peasant and he was sure that in his rags the prisoner could be easily taken as a beggar but it was no comfort for him until he was back in the alley where Annabel had already changed into her ball gown and waited.

“Monsieur,” Annabel said, jumping up from where she had been seated on a crate to great the prisoner. “What have they done to you? I thought I would never see you again. We heard you had been captured and I was sure that you would be executed before any could save you,” Annabel was clearly agitated, the first true emotion George could think of having ever seen in her.

“They thought to get information from me before killing me, of course I would tell them nothing and so prolonged my life while they thought of new ways to torture me. My Annabel, how much you've grown since last I saw you, I had wondered who they might send, if they risked anyone at all for an old man like me. But tell me, who is this friend of yours who broke me out of prison in such a reckless manner?”

“He is just learning, I recruited him for the occasion actually, I am trying to teach him just like you taught me. Monsieur, may I introduce Mr. Helms, George may I introduce Monsieur Rosemonde.” George could see the former prisoner raise an eyebrow at him when Annabel addressed him by his first name but there was no more time for idle chatter, they were still on a schedule. Annabel excused herself to go find a cab for Monsieur Rosemonde, leaving the men in privacy to change their clothing. Annabel had instructed George to order an outfit that Rosemonde now dressed in and George dressed in the same clothing he had worn when they had said goodbye to Alexander. It seemed like ages now but he was starting to realize it had only been about an hour.

To be continued...

The Captain's Peace VIII

It was depressing how quickly Alexander took to the suggestion. It was of course what they had wanted but it didn't stop George from wanting go grab him and scream at him that he was leaving his unmarried sister with a man. It was girls in just that situation that Alexander was always spending his time with and more then one of them had come to a bad end. If Alexander continued on this way who knew what sort of trouble Annabel might get into, George was surprised to find that he actually cared, had it been several weeks ago he would have never even thought of Annabel like that. She had never been someone who had to be looked after to him because he had never thought of her as a person before really. It was a startling discovery and one that he decided he would think more about if he ever had the time, but not now.

The moment that they were free from Alexander a cab was hailed and they gave an address several blocks from what George knew to be the prison. They had already agreed that it would be a bad idea to show up within even a few blocks their target would be a bad idea. Annabel did all of the talking since she could speak like a native. It would be disastrous if the cab driver could say that he had delivered two English people to the scene of the crime. Suspicion might instantly fall to their party if their country of origin could be labeled.

A back alley served as a dressing room for the pair, both carefully keeping their backs turned to the other. It was horribly indecent and had anyone come around the alley George probably would have killed them to keep their reputations clean but they were lucky that no one wandered much in that part of the city. They emerged with their dress clothing carefully concealed in a crate in the alley, they now looked like members of the poorer classes if Napoleon would admit to such a class now that the society was supposed to run on equality.

In George's mind the plan was recited over and over again, he had heard it from Annabel so many times that he even heard it in her voice. She was going to have to run the distraction while he went into the prison, though all she would tell him is where to go once he was through the back window and which door to get open. She didn't tell him who would be there or that it was probably a cell but he could assume. He felt like she should be the one who broke into the prison since she knew what they were there for except that he couldn't speak French and therefore couldn't distract the guards well. It would instantly ring bells if an English man was acting strangely, and again, they would be identified. The weight of the saw he was to use on the window bars was heavy against his leg, hidden in the folds of his long coat.

George and Annabel split up once they were within a block of the prison, Annabel headed for the front of the prison to catch the guards near the entrance on their round of the building. It was to be her goal to keep them from the back of the building for as long as possible, in any way that they could. George meanwhile headed towards the back of the building, already fingering his saw. He knew exactly where the window was that he needed to saw open by Annabel's description.

It seemed to George as if the saw had made enough noise for all of Paris to hear it even though he had tried to be quiet. He hadn't had time to be truly stealthy about it however because he had to be in and out before Annabel ran out of things to say to the guards. It wasn't the first time that George had been in a prison, on several occasions he had been placed on sentry duty in places where people were imprisoned but he swore he would never grow used to the smell. The stench of humans all confined without good sanitation was one that clung to his nostrils. It was a smell that reminded him of what the stakes were, if they failed they could very well be in one of the cells he was now running past. He kept his face covered with his coat as he ran, knowing that there would be prisoners staring at him as he went past, from somewhere in the darkness there were eyes ready to report him he was sure.

To be continued...

The Captain's Peace VII

Since George was a trusted family friend, he and Annabel were allowed to go on walks occasionally together even when the chaperon was feeling poorly and couldn't come along. These were the most useful time for them to talk and happened more often then they would have normally because the chaperon was getting older and not up to the job of keeping up with Annabel. On one such walk they went past the building that was their target and George could feel his stomach sink. He supposed that Annabel thought that since he couldn't read or speak French he wouldn't realize that they were going to be breaking into a prison. There was something about prisons however that was universal and though George kept his mouth shut he began to wonder what other unpleasant surprises he was going to receive.

They were not going to stay in France forever, Annabel had assured George that they weren't going to do anything until it was almost time to go, that way they could get out before enough evidence piled up against them. George asked why they weren't going to do it the night before they left or something but Annabel explained to him that the British government wanted her to possibly go back to France again, and leaving as soon as a crime was committed would make her guilty without a doubt. They were going to have to play this very carefully. Besides that they needed an event that would allow them to be gone for a long period of time without being missed by the others. That was even trickier to find. By asking the banker about what there was to do in their remaining days they finally found out about a ball being held by some friends of his and convinced the others to go.

The day of the ball George would have sworn that he had never been so nervous in his life, and that included all of the days before battle. This held much of the same risks but unlike war he wasn't wearing a uniform and he wasn't in a large group for protection. Those two factors had always made him face death with a certain amount of bravado that was now missing. Annabel on the other hand was calm and collected as near as George could tell while she gave him his final instructions. He admired her all the more for it, it made her seem more then human, like she was the greatest person on earth.

Getting dressed for a ball that he knew he wasn't actually going to attend made the entire day even more surreal for George. He had all of his fancy clothing on, pale in comparison to what Alexander was wearing, but underneath it he was wearing practical work clothing and he had a pistol hidden in one of the pockets. George supposed that he could be thankful that fashion allowed him to wear his military sword at his hip even though he was going to be dancing. It was agreed that military gentlemen were to be allowed their weapons and that gave him the excuse to have one. Time dragged on for George though, once he was ready all that was left for him to do was fret and check, and then check again, to make sure that all was in place. Once their time of departure arrived it was a whirlwind however, with Annabel at the center and George simply caught up in it.

“Alexander, I can't find my necklace anywhere, and I am not going anywhere without it, I would be ashamed to be seen in this dress without good jewelry,” Annabel said, running down the steps after Alexander and George, who were already on their way to the carriage. George could see Alexander's face fall, he loved a ball as much as Annabel pretended to. Alexander was a splash in French society and George was sure that he had an appointment already made with some young woman for that night that this was disturbing. Of course that was all part of the plan.

“I suppose we will have to help you look for it,” said Alexander in a resigned voice. “Have you asked Mrs. Hatthorn if she's seen it?”

“She's been taken poorly again and I can't stand to bother the poor dear,” Annabel lied beautifully. In truth the chaperon had been told that she wouldn't be needed that night because of the ball that Alexander and George would both be at, and had decided to stay in her room and read for the night.

“Tell you what,” said George a little too quickly for his own liking, though Alexander didn't seem to notice, “why don't you go along. Who knows how long this will take and we don't all have to suffer. You take this carriage and we'll take a cab after you when we've found the necklace. I don't much care for balls you know so I won't be missing anything if I stay here for a bit and help Annabel.”

To be continued...

The Captain's Peace VI

Now that George was in on the secret he was able to admire the immense acting skill that Annabel possessed. He was also now able to see when it was that she was poking fun at people under the guise of her own stupidity. George could imagine it was the only thing that kept her sane, he knew he would go crazy if he had to act like a fool all the time. Occasionally George wondered if Annabel remembered that she had asked for his help or if she had decided she didn't need him after all. He need not have worried, she was simply biding her time and she approached him again just as he started to think that she never would. George, in all of his frustration, concluded that her soul purpose in life was to confuse and surprise him.

“Sorry, I wanted to make sure that you were actually okay, I started having my doubts about hiring someone without their history looked into. I sent back to England and they sent back the answer today, nothing to worry about, you're hired, and going to get paid by both the army and the department that hires me.”

“Why doesn't the army just put me back on the serving list and give me full pay, I'd be happy with just that,” George protested. It seemed dishonest to get paid by someone other then the army while he was still enlisted.

“The army keeps records that can be looked at and that would be too dangerous. If you had a full pay status and no active duties listed that would scream to the whole world that you were a spy and we can't afford that. Besides, this way you get paid better for your work and I assure you if you are feeling guilty about the amount you will be earning, the work you will be doing will be earning every penny of it,” Annabel said. George smiled, amused that she had figured out his thoughts so easily. He didn't even bother to ask how she had gotten a message from England when there had been no post that day. A woman was allowed her secrets and he wasn't that interested in prying into onces that she didn't tell him flat out. He had been hired to be her assistant, not to question her, and years and years in the army had taught him not to question the bosses.

“Any conditions to me working with you? Anything to make sure that I don't betray your trust?” George asked, he had a vague idea that it should be harder to become a spy then it seemed to be. There was no way for him to know the combing through ever piece of correspondence he had ever written and the investigation of every person he had ever talked to that had occurred back in England.

“No, nothing like that. They did say that you shouldn't mention this work to anyone, ever, even long after the fact. No one really trusts a spy and it would be in your own best interest that you never get labeled as one even if you have nothing to lose.”

“You don't have to tell me that,” George said, smiling. “I know how spies get treated in the army at least and I assume that it is the same everywhere. I like my friends and I would like to keep them if I can.”

Having reached an agreement the pieces of their work started to fall into place for George. There was a building that they were going to have to enter and Annabel had been trying to figure out how to do it alone, when it was clearly a two person job, when she had noticed George watching her and realized that he had seen her when she had gone to look at the building the first time. George asked several times what the building was but Annabel evaded the question and George finally decided that this was another one of the secrets she was to be allowed.

To be continued...

The Captain's Peace V

“I thought you might be interested in continuing our conversation from before, and without any chance of Alexander interrupting us. If we start talking quietly between ourselves too often Alexander will think there really is something between us and he is the type who would probably challenge you to a duel.”

“Duels have been illegal in the army for some years now,” George pointed out weakly but he knew that she had spoken the truth. Alexander believed that any scandal that his actions caused could be bought away and George had found that this was depressingly accurate when put into practice. Annabel seemed to find his protest not even worth commenting on because the next time she spoke it was completely unconnected.

“It is a dream as a spy to be in France since they have been fairly good at catching our spies while we were at war. Our government was overjoyed when they found out that I could come over here without anyone asking any questions. Now, if you are willing, I could pull you in as an assistant. I got enough money from the government as working money that I can pay you for your work until I can get in touch with the masters and suggest they hire you. I know that you have money problems and I'm giving you the chance to earn something other then half pay.” George found that he was starting to get used to the extreme unladylike bluntness that Annabel had now that her cover was blown.

“I have one thing to ask before agreeing to help you,” George said. “Do your parents know that you are working as a spy?”

“Of course they do, Alexander is the one who doesn't know. I got their permission as soon as I got the offer to work as a spy. They're worried about me, but they agree that it was my duty as a good loyal citizen to help with the war effort as much as a could. It gets tiresome to act stupid all of the time but distressingly no one notices if I slip out of character every once in a while because it's just what they expect.”

“So did you get training as a spy and everything?” George asked, wondering if he was about to step into a world he didn't know anything about.

“I had teachers,” Annabel said, nodding. “But you don't have to worry, most of what they taught me didn't really matter. If you managed to survive in the army you probably know most of it already, a lot of what they told me only needed saying because at the time I was a fairly normal girl. What you do need to know I am sure I can teach you as we go along. So are you in?”

“I'm in,” said George, surrendering to a vague chivalric feeling that he shouldn't leave a woman asking for help without assistance. That and she wasn't wrong about his need of money, he couldn't afford to turn her down. “Why can't we ask Alexander for help as well though? I would think that your brother would have been your first thought since you know that you can trust him. We've hardly talked, you don't know if you can trust me or not, but you came to me instead of your own brother. It doesn't makes sense to me.”

“You know Alexander. I love him, he is a very good brother, fiercely protective of me, which is cute, but he lacks the intelligence to be a good aid for me. He would try, he would try very hard, but he would slip up. I have been watching you more then you think and I have seen you flinch every time Alexander or I say something really dumb, which suggests a sort of intelligence on your part.”

“So you think I'm smart because I can tell when you are stupid?” George asked, he had to admit that her deductive logic seemed flawed to him no matter how smart she apparently was. She simply nodded happily though.

“I'll talk to you later about what we will be doing, it'll be nice to do business with you, good night,” she said and she slipped out of his room. George was left with the vague feeling that he might have been dreaming but he knew in his heart that he hadn't been.

To be continued...

The Captain's Peace IV

“What?” asked George, now truly confused. Annabel looked thoughtful for a moment, not the clueless puzzled look that he normally associated with her, but the look of an intelligent person trying to come to a decision on the spot. She came to one fairly quickly because her face cleared and she looked up at him, new determination in her eyes.

“I really didn't want you to come when Alexander invited you and this is why. You aren't stupid like he is, you ask questions and find things out. If I just say that a woman is allowed her secrets like I was about to you would find out just what those secrets are, I am almost sure of it.”

“I would allow you your privacy,” George protested, even though he wasn't sure if he actually would. She was practically accusing him of not being a gentleman and he couldn't allow that to stand.

“Maybe I am wrong about you in that respect but you are smart and that remains and I could use someone smart at the moment. Though you would probably never admit it, my brother is useless and knows nothing of my activities anyway, which leaves you. You already suspect me so I can put you to use and make you into something handy rather then a hindrance. To put it bluntly I am a spy for the King of England.”

Had Annabel grown wings all of a sudden a declared herself an servant of God George probably couldn't have been more surprised. He doubted it at first of course, but only for a few moments because then his mind was forced to piece things together. She didn't seem crazy, which was his first thought, she seemed too rational for that. She didn't seem to be joking and that would have been no reason for her to act like a ditz for the several years of their acquaintance. He was forced to admit that the only reason that he could think of for her elaborate charade would be for her to have an important secret to keep and she had just made him privy to just such a secret if it was true. He was about to profess his non disbelief when Alexander joined them, making conversation impossible.

“My dear sister, your conversation with George looked so intense I just had to come and see what you were talking about,” Alexander said.

“We were just arguing about what type of rose this is, do you know I think George knows nothing about roses. His teachers must have been sleeping when they were supposed to be teaching him if he doesn't realize that this rose is not of a variety we have in England yet. I was thinking that maybe our host would let me take a cutting with us back so I could have one in our garden. Can you imagine the envy of my friends our next garden party? It would be just too marvelous.”

For the rest of the conversation George paid careful attention to what Annabel was saying, looking for any hint of the woman who he had just been talking to, but there was nothing except the foolishness that had always come out of her mouth. If anything that only cemented him in his belief that she had been telling the truth to him about what she did though. For the rest of the day he was on the lookout for her going somewhere where they could talk again, and he kept expecting her to give him a look or something that would tell him where to go but he waited in vain. For the rest of the day Annabel didn't make eye contact with George except when she spoke to him, and she hardly talked to him at all, being too immersed in conversation with the banker's wife about what new hats were going to be sent across the channel now that trade bans were lifted.

George was laying in bed that night, not asleep because he had too much on his mind, when Annabel entered the room. She was fully clothed, and carrying a candle that she only lite when she got into the room and had closed the door. At first George couldn't believe his eyes, well to do women entering the bedroom of an man alone in the middle of the night was so unbelievable that he couldn't bring his mind to accept it until she spoke.

To be continued...