Chapter 12 - The French Arrive

The French heard about Zimdar by eavesdropping on the telegraph cables like the rest of the European powers. Their Navy was immediately interested in establishing a coaling station for their vessels on Zimdar. When word of the fantastical discoveries started coming in, the expedition was expanded to include a scientific team.

The expedition is led by Captain Armand d'Hubert commanding the cruiser Surcouf. The senior military officer is one Gabriel Feraud, commanding the marine and armed sailor contingent. These two hate each other, a situation arising from a series of duels that their grandfathers and fathers fought during the Napoleonic era. Capt d'Hubert takes a rational approach to the organization of the expedition and keeps his berth on the Surcouf while he billets Feraud on the troopship Herimone, besides the Herimone sails like a drunken sailor with gout and there is every possibility that Feraud will have a massive case of seasickness. The Herimone is carrying the Marines and small arms for the sailors as well as two Gatling Guns purchased before leaving. The French Marines are using this as a field trial for the Gatling Guns. The Herimone is also carrying the mechanical parts (boilers, propellers, nuts and bolts, etc) for the construction of two small river steam launches in addition to the one complete river launch it is carrying on its aft deck.

Just before sailing from France the Chief Scientist for the expedition was badly injured when set upon by thieves. How fortuitous it is that a replacement was found almost on the expedition's doorstep. Dr Emile Sinisterre is a strange and dark little man that tends to have a sneer permanently painted on his face. He also tends to mumble to himself. He is not liked by anyone, but due to schedule he is selected to join the party.

Finally the expedition sets out and after making landfall on Zimdar, they spend a few weeks searching the coast line for a likely spot for their coaling station. One of the desires is to be near a mouth of a river so they can use their launches to explore further inland. They finally find just the place, set up camp and begin working to build a permanent station. Their settlement is indeed near the mouth of a large river and that has a large marsh off to the southwest. The marsh is the home of millions of amphibian animals including frogs. After several days eating the delicacies offered by the marsh and some rudimentary cooking, they gladly christen their settlement "Jambes d' Grenouille".

Chapter 11 - A Glimpse of Germans

...meanwhile, back in the Fatherland...."Zo you zay zis, zis, X-matter allows things heavier zan air to float", the Kaiser asked in disbelief. "Ya", his aide replied,"it iz found is zis new land called Zimdar". The Kaiser stared at a model of his latest Dreadnaught sitting on his desk. Then he got an idea. An awful idea. The Grinch, er, Kaiser got a wonderful, awful idea.

[[[ Flash ]]]

Report from Agent J. Francis Gardner of Her Majesty's Special Services ...10th of June at secret German Military Base on North Sea..... Dressed as a German Marine Private, I snuck aboard the SS Keonigsburg while at dock and witnessed the following bizarre experiment: The ship sailed approximately half a mile out to sea and stopped. We did not, however, weigh anchor. Instead the group of high officials, including the Kaiser himself, and scientists went down into the hold. There a largish rock of black, irridescent material was bolted with metal straps to the hull. One of the new electrical generators was attached. When the switch was thrown, electrical energy surged through the rock. What happened next was amazing,. The ship actually began to.........Message ends here. Agent Gardner's body was found a week ago outside Paris. Foul play is suspected.

Chapter 10 - The Jewel of Myhohotep

Legend had long expounded on a jewel of magnificent size and beauty that had exhibited extraordinary powers. Over the ages the jewel was rumored to imbue the owner with traits that matched his or her personality and desires. It was said these powers could be transferred to inanimate objects and these were then controlled by the owner of the jewel, but that was never clearly described. Thus, over the millennia, the jewel had been used for good and evil. The last reports of the existence of the jewel were over one hundred years old, and it was assumed that the jewel was lost forever. Its name was Myhohotep.

Professor Archibald Swithington had made landfall on Zimdar some months before, and after a fabulous reunion with his daughter Sarah had become engrossed with exploring this strange sub-continent. The flora and fauna was a strange mixture of pre-historic and modern plants and animals. Each of these assumed their own particular niches in the food chain and natural pecking order.

Exploration of Zimdar uncovered vast resources of minerals, including the strange X-Matter substance that could defy gravity when exposed to electricity. This discovery alone made Zimdar a target for subjugation. On one of his many wanderings, Swithington discovered a pyramid in the remote regions of Zimdar. Actually, if truth be told, all regions of Zimdar were remote. During the initial discovery of the pyramid, Swithington and his party were accosted by several groups of natives that chased his party away from the entrance before he could determine how to enter the structure. He was determined to return to the pyramid, gain access and explore it. Who knew what could lay within? There certainly would be archeological treasures inside.

Swithington made his plans and with his faithful guide Nocshee Azih gathered some of the toughest Askari together to return to the pyramid. The plan was to return to the area at dusk, slip into the valley during the evening and get inside the pyramid. This plan was predicated on the belief that the natives of the area would be too superstitious to be anywhere near after the sun set. The plan worked to a point, Swithington and party were able to return to the pyramid and gain access to it. Swithington had worked quickly, he had made a rubbing on his previous visit and had time to study it.

Once inside the pyramid, Swithington was amazed by the amount of ancient artifacts that he found, He ordered his men to begin packing the gold and jewels in various barrels while he examined some of the more esoteric treasures. The pyramid was a tomb that contained two sarcophagi and appeared to be Egyption in nature. One was much smaller than the other, possibly for a child. However, before Swithington could open either for a closer examination, his attention was drawn to the skeletal remains of a corpse in the corner of the chamber.

He had been killed by a spear through the heart, but that was not had grabbed the Professor's attention. Around the dead man's neck was a necklace, it was a simple setting of gold wire holding the largest and most flawless ruby he had ever seen. It was the length and breadth of his thumb and shaped like a faceted teardrop. When he saw it, the ruby was an acquiescent dull red, since very little light was being collected in the gloom. As he approached the ruby, he sensed a pulsing resonance beginning deep in the crystal. It must be his imagination. He was drawn to the jewel as if he didn't have control of his own volition. The nearer he got the brighter the ruby became, and he realized it was pulsing in rhythm to his own heart beat. As he reached out to touch the ruby, he became aware of another, much larger crystal, lying on the floor and covered in dust. It too was pulsing to the rhythm of his heart but in counter-point to the ruby. It was hard to see the large crystal pulsing, it was almost like it was pulsing between a visible ebony and an abyss-like darkness. The large black crystal was huge, easily three foot long by one half foot in diameter. It would probably weigh one hundred pounds, maybe more. A sense of foreboding came over Swithington as he stared at it. Wrenching his gaze away from the black crystal, he returned to observing the ruby and again was overcome to reach out and take it from the neck of the corpse.

As his hand closed over the ruby, he had the sensation of a jolt of electricity throughout his body. All his senses became heightened as if he could hear the smallest whisper or see as an eagle. He also became aware of the vastness of the dark jewel which was now pulsing in parallel with his heart and the ruby. The internal crystalline lattice of the stone was immense, if he let his mind drift he could detect lattice inside lattice. There was a seemingly endless matrix structure to the crystal. He felt he could reach out through the ruby and then through the dark jewel and move mountains. He was ecstatic; he could do anything, crush any enemy, and grant any wish. It was incredible, it was rapturous, and it was…too momentous. What would his sainted wife Grace have said to have fantasies like this? Reluctantly he released the beautiful gem and returned to himself.

This thing, this jewel defied imagination. He needed much more time to study and a safer place in which to do so. He ordered that the black monolith be packed carefully, in a small barrel. He wrapped the ruby in his handkerchief and stuck it in his rucksack. Once it was safely tucked away, he turned his attention to the other contents of the pyramid, and began carefully packing other items of note. This went on for several hours and as they finished and began the transport of barrels and sacks out of the structure he realized that it was daybreak. At this point his carefully laid plan failed miserably. As his heavily encumbered group exited the pyramid they were met by an eerily quiet valley; a sense of being watched was prevalent. Then suddenly the drums started, first off to the north and quickly answered from the south, east and west.

Swithington shouted to all to scatter and make their way back to the camp. Precisely at this moment a hail of arrows pelted the ground around him and his Askari. Two were killed immediately, spurring the others to follow his orders with elan. Scatter they did, going in whatever direction that seemed to lead to safety, barrels and bags were discarded in attempts for more speed. The professor lost track of the barrel with the dark stone, but was too preoccupied with saving his own neck to worry about it. He and Nocshee made a beeline toward the South-East hugging cover whenever possible. As they made there way out of the valley they managed to avoid anymore serious encounters and returned to their base camp relatively unscathed. As the day passed and his men slowly returned, which delighted him, he grew more and more despondent about the lack of barrels and archeological treasure accompanying them. Swithington set about bandaging his men in a perfunctory manner. He was preoccupied; ruminating about returning to the pyramid and recovering the Jewel. He could still feel it, way off in the distance, beckoning to him. He and Nocshee sat by the fire, late into the evening discussing possibilities for recovering the Jewel.

Chapter 9 - Hunt the Big Green Pig

From the journal of Chester Flapjowls – London Post Gazette

These inadequate words must suffice to describe the mixture of fear, excitement and anxiety that all of us felt while engaged with the denizens of a certain mysterious valley in Zimdar.  Local villagers had told quite the tale of a valley that was loaded with gold and other potential riches.  They also told of the native’s beliefs that the spirit of the God of Death haunted the valley.  Snort had promised he would send help to cleanse the valley of this danger.  He owed them his life.  Lord Swithington had insisted that samples of the “rocks that float in thunderstorms” be brought back for examination.

We arrived in the Sweesweesh village about mid-day, and after talking to the chief it was decided to wait until dawn of the next day to enter the valley.  A native named !Tix!Tax was “enlisted” to be our guide.  The night was spent by the villagers in front of a roaring bonfire dancing, singing and shouting brave insults at the valley entrance.  As dawn broke, !Tix!Tax, wearing a death mask, led us to the entrance of the valley.  He was quite impressed with our mechanical steam powered woodchopper, and its two huge axes.  Little did he know that this infernal contraption was a cobbled together collection of ill-fitting parts reclaimed as part of the HMS Drake salvage. 

As we started into the valley, the Woodchopper died and wouldn’t restart.  It was stuck right in the middle of the entrance gap with just barely enough room to pass it on either side. As the group squeezed by the silent machine, our attention was caught by the lure of obvious gold deposits in the mountains to our right and a mysterious multi-colored ore in the mountains to our left.  There was a heated debate about splitting our forces or not.  That decision was taken from us by an act of fate.

 

Amidst a tapestry of swearing, and a truly virtuoso performance it was, Mechanic 1st class Burt Genneve managed to repair the Woodchopper and it roared to life.  It lurched forward straight into the heart of the jungle. People scattered left and right to avoid the spinning axe blades that were felling palm trees with one cut.  As the Woodchopper was cutting a swath into the primordial jungle, it disturbed and enraged two nests of snakes.  Snakes swarmed in every conceivable direction. They  attacked several of the men while some slithered deeper into the jungle.  As the men reacted in panic the expedition party was driven further and further apart. 

 

Brains Sweeny, Gils Chadbury and  Louis Smythe-Scott swept to the left firing their weapons at the snakes. They dispatched several but not before Chadbury was bitten and wounded by one.  The mechanic would not leave the Woodchopper and his best mate Marlin Cuthburt stayed close by. They did their best to defend each other from the hoard.  The very superstitious !Tix!Tax took this swarm as an evil omen and ran for his village.  Steven Dekopp, Nathan Rosefelt and Alan Lawsfree were forced to the right. 

Dekopp,  Rosefelt and Lawsfree spent several anxious minutes killing the snakes that swarmed beneath their feet and around their legs.  It was touch and go for a while, but finally the last snake was dispatched.  Just as they relaxed, a small snake hidden in the brush struck at Marlin Cuthburt.  To say this delicately, a full venom load was deposited into Cuthburt on the opposite side of his posterior.  Sadly, he did not survive the extremely painful attack.

Meanwhile, out on the left, sounds of breaking brush and fierce trumpeting were heard.  As they turned to face the sounds, a very angry large green animal burst into the clearing.  The three stood frozen in disbelief as a green sailback dinosaur fixed them with a malicious stare and bellowed a challenge.  Brains Sweeny was the first to awake from his trance and hastily brought his rifle to bear on the Sailback. The round wounded the Sailback but did not kill it.  The situation for Sweeny was tense; the beast was truly berserk and raised its tail for a final slashing blow.  

At that precise moment the Woodchopper belched a large cloud of steam and lurched forward with axes spinning.  With a roar, the Sailback turned and charged into the Woodchopper!  Slamming into its side, the Sailback’s three tremendous tail spikes pierced into the steam lines and control cables of the Woodchopper disabling it.

   

As Chadbury moved in to help protect Sweeny,  Smythe-Scott took the opportunity to head for the multi-colored ore.  It was the most unusual looking rock he had ever seen.  All the colors of the rainbow shimmered in each nugget.  As he bent down to pick up some of the material, an explosion knocked him off his feet and covered him with dust.  He picked himself up and carefully reached for another piece of the ore.  A strange shadow crossed over him and another explosion blasted nearby rocks and trees to flinders.  Smythe-Scott again just barely escaped.  As he raised his gaze upwards, an unbelievable sight, straight out of the stories of Aladdin, greeted his eyes.  A flying carpet was hovering directly over him!  A little wizened old man wearing a turban was lighting the fuse of another bomb to drop on Smythe-Scott’s head from the perch on the carpet. 

The little snake that had felled Cuthburt was evil incarnate.  It made several strikes at the mechanic.  It was so quick that Burt Genneve could not get an accurate shot.  The little snake was positioned so that he could not get back to the disabled Woodchopper in order to effect repairs.

About the same time as the Sailback bellowed its challenge at Sweeny, Alan Lawsfree spotted a tremendous gold deposit on the far right.  The nuggets were large and just laying on the ground.  He absently noted several birds circling overhead but ignored them as Gold Fever struck full force.  He hurried forward to gather the loose nuggets.  Dekopp screamed a warning as one of the “birds” stooped on Lawsfree at tremendous speed knocking him to the ground.  He couldn’t believe it but a Pterodactyl had just attacked him.  As he scurried for cover he realized that there were four Pterodactyls in the air, orbiting around a nest perched high upon the mountaintop.

Dekopp joined up with Lawsfree, both grabbing a few nuggets before scurrying for cover at the base of the cliff.  Dekopp was convinced there were eggs in the nest and was determined to fetch one back for Lord Swithington.  They started up the spine of the mountain and noticed that the Pterodactyls were highly agitated but the reptiles were diving on something that was deeper in the jungle.  This was their chance to grab an egg.  Unfortunately, as Dekopp and Lawsfree reached the top of the mountain one Pterodactyl noticed and dived on them. Dekopp was knocked from the rocky precipice and plunged to his death hundreds of feet below.  Alan shot and missed as the beast turned its attention on him, a quick dive and sharp snap of its jaws marked the end for Alan Lawsfree.  Rosefelt fired at the reptile, wounded it and drove it off, he decided to leave the nest and eggs alone.  The Pterodactyls were still screaming at something that was deeper in the jungle, but Nathan could not make out what it was.

!Tix!Tax was so ashamed of himself, that he turned around and reentered the jungle.  As he did, Chadbury took careful aim and shot the Sailback through the neck killing it.  Almost simultaneously, !Tix!Tax killed the nasty little snake with a shot from his hunting bow.  Genneve immediately raced to the WoodChopper to see how badly it was damaged.

Another bomb exploded just behind Smythe-Scott, knocking him off his feet one more time.  He and Sweeny both took blind shots at the carpet, just to force the occupant to take cover.  As Smythe-Scott ran for cover, Sweeny took one more shot at the carpet.  It quite simply exploded, vanishing in a cloud of carpet bits, coiled wired and pottery that rained all over the jungle.   Both men gathered up as much of the ore and debris as they could carry and headed back to the village.

As Chadbury looked around, he saw the alluring shine of gold and headed for it.  As he got closer to the ore, Rosefelt screamed at him to look out. But it was too late. The big green pig had arrived and its attention was fixed directly on Chadbury.  It was indeed a huge T-Rex, green in color, with bright red eyes.  It charged Chadbury, tail whipping, feet smashing and rending the earth.  

It bit at Chadbury many times, and slashed at him with its short forelimb claws.  It was miraculous, Chadbury was lithe and agile and avoided all of the attacks, even managing to get a shot or two into the beast himself.  A pterodactyl struck at the beast slashing a deep wound in its back.  But the T-Rex whipped around and with one mighty bite, yanked it out of the air and bit it in two.  

In the midst of all this Rosefelt had been shooting round after round at the beast but to no avail.  He only had a few rounds left and had to make them count if he was to save his friend.  He steadied his rifle in the crook of a tree and took most careful aim at the T-Rex.  He didn’t have much time.

In an attempt to save himself, Chadbury was trying to play dead, just under the massive jaws of the Tyranasaurus.  Just then the Woodchopper belched into life again and lurched toward Chadbury and the dinosaur. The startled T-Rex whipped around to face the new threat, just as Rosefelt squeezed the trigger and shot it dead through an eye.  In what seemed to take an eternity, several tons of green dinosaur meat collapsed to the ground directly on top of Chadbury, crushing him to death.

For Rosefelt, Smythe-Scott, Sweeny and Genneve it was past time to get out of this valley.  But they would be back.  With heavier machines next time...

Chapter 8 - Findings

Sarah awoke with a start, slowly remembering the events of the day befoe as if she was living a dream.  As she looked around the lodge, she realized, it wan't a dream.  Several young women were looking back at her, nervous to the point where they did not blink.

Sarah smiled, and slowly stood,  her quest was not complete.  She had to find her father and Reginald.  The light that filtered in was dim, but it highlighted the doorway.  She walked toward the door, and the young women moved out of her way.  As she stepped out into the daylight, Pitrok was waiting.  He smiled and motioned that she should follow.  As she smiled her understanding, his eyes lowered and his smile more tremulous.  He offered her a panther's claw that had been made into a necklace.  

Now Sarah had a problem, what did this gesture mean by his beliefs and customs? Was it friendship, betrothal, marriage, a shared warrior bond?  She just didn't know.  She looked at him and trusting to luck accepted the gift.  She promptly put it on, and he laughed and put a matching one on.  

Pitrok then motioned for her to follow once again.  He led her toward a large building in the center of the village.  It was festooned with images of hunting gods, weather gods, fertility gods and what could only be spirit gods.  Pitrok took her to the entrance and motioned her in, but he was not allowed to follow.  As she stepped into the chamber, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust from the bright daylight.  

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."  said a deep gravely voice.  One that lived in Sarah's soul.  Sarah's head whipped around, and she focused on a supine form that was newly scarred, battered and bruised.  "Sure took you long enough to find me."  Snort raised his head and gave her a wink.

Sarah instantly transported to his side, there was never any recollection of movement. One second she was at the entrance, the next she was in his arms. They kissed passionately and then slower, softer, lingering.  Sarah was crying, softly repeating "I knew you were alive.." between each kiss.

"Why, hello Sarah, do you have anything saved for another?  Although I do realize that an old man is not as handsome as your young one."  Prof. Archibald Swithington looked down at his daughter with a huge grin on his face.

Sarah looked back and forth between the two men that were pivotal in her life. She smiled, she glowed, she dazzled and she cried.   All was right with the world.

The Panther's Gift

The end arrived quickly, the panther was killed almost instantly as the spear transfixed its throat.  Pitrox spun involuntaraly as Sarah's bullet ripped through the meat of his left calf.  Sarah, unhurt,  looked down and tisked as she realized that the panther's claws had torn a four parallel rips in her best skirt.

Pitrox was holding his leg and looking at her wide-eyed.  His end was coming,  he began to chant to his God's.  He hoped they would listen.  Hearing the chanting, Sarah looked at him and smiled.  It wasn't one of her dazzlers reserved for Reginald, but it was close enough.  This young man had just saved her life.  She noticed that he was bleeding, and frowned, irritated with herself about the moment of vanity and regret for her skirt.

Pitrox felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders when she smiled. Maybe he would not die this day after all.  He was still nervous however and wanted to return to the village so the healers could fix his leg.  Even if he did endur the leaches.  An involuntary shudder ran up his spine.

Sarah approached slowly, she stopped when he moved, and came closer when he was still.  She smiled again, Pitrox blinked back, but remained motionless.  She continued to close the gap. The distance was finally comfortable.  She gently extended her empty hand, palm up.   She looked at the young man and smiled.

Pitrox had watched her approach and gradually his fear diminished. When she extended her hand, he paused and then slowly touched her palm with his fingers.  He looked at her and smiled also.  A tenuous trust was born.  

Sarah looked down at Pitrok's calf and pointed. He shrugged as if it was no matter, yet the blood flowed.  She frowned and pointed for him to sit. It took several tries but he finally got the idea.  Sarah looked at the wound she had caused. She was relieved to find it was only a flesh wound.  She reached for her belt pouch, and opened a little jar of salve.  As she applied it to the wound Pitrok had a quick intake of breath, but this was much easier than the leaches, so he relaxed once again.  

Sarah looked at her skirt, tore a small patch from it. She allowed herself just a small shake of her head. She applied more salve to the patch and put it on the wound.  She then reached up and took off her sun helmet.  Pitrok eyes widened in amazement,  he had never see a woman with hair so red and eyes so green. Surely this was an angel sent here in answer to his prayers.  

Sarah took the green sash off the sun helmet and wound it around the wound.  It created a very serviceable field dressing.  She smiled and opened her canteen.  She took a drink. She offered the canteen to Pitrok. He smelled the contents and then drank glady.  Sarah donned her sun hat again, and stood.  She quickly scanned the area for the trail she had been following earlier.  It was not to be found.  

Pitrok had a problem.  He approached the dead panther and removed its claws and teath.  Big magic that could not be left behind.  However it was getting very late and the jungle was no place to be after dark   It was obvious that the woman did not understand the dangers of the night out here.  He clicked his tounge at her, and then gently touched her arm.  When she looked up, he motioned to follow and took a couple of steps. He motioned again, took a few more steps and motioned again.  Sarah smiled and began to follow Pitrok.  Pitrok walked steadily toward his village, his leg barely hurt.  He was sure it was the magic in the soft green cloth wrapping his wound.  Maybe the Elders would know what to do with this angel woman.

It was late when they arrived at village,  many people had already taken shelter for the night.  But a few came running to talk to Pitrok.  They stopped short as Sarah came into view.  Pitrok talked to his villagers describing the events that had happened.  He showed the panther's claws and teeth, and to the marvelous green cloth on his leg.  One of the village leaders arrived and told Pitrok to find lodging for the woman in the single womans quarters.  It was too dark now,  everything would wait until the morning.

Chapter 6. - Sarah Picks Berries

Sarah was a little worried when she woke up that morning.  Her father was more than a trifle absent-minded, but it was not like him to be out of touch for several days. She had to do something calm and productive to soothe her nerves.

She quickly dressed into a long flowered skirt, tan blouse and her trusty boots. She wrapped a green sash around her sun helmet. Finally she checked that her revolver was loaded and belt knife were firmly in place. She stepped out of her little thatch covered shack and began to look for Reginald.

Much to her dismay, nobody had seen Reginald for several days either. It was time to do some chores and take her mind off her two favorite people. She asked around the camp and got a general diretion of where they had gone a few days before. On the pretext of picking some berries, she made her way out of the little settlement following the creek deeper into the jungle.

She did find a nice berry patch and picked a handful to break her fast. She filled her canteen in the cold rushing little brook. As she got a little further away from normal settlement debris and muddied trails, she started looking for her father's rather distinctive footprints.  His right foot tended to point inward quite a bit. She lost track of time.

"Has anyone seen Lady Sarah?" asked Private Ian Baird of the 213th Worchestshires. "She has been gone several hours and I cannot find her. The Sergent-Major will have my hide if anything happens to her."

"She told me she was going to pick berries, but that was several hours ago." replied Alicia Dorne, wife of Corporal Thomas Dorne. "I never saw her return though, she was following the creek inland."

Roughly one half of a split second later, Private Baird had gathered his rifle,canteen and some provisions. He shouted at two of his mates to follow his trail as quickly as possible.  He set off following the creek, looking for signs of Lady Sarah. Within about 5 minutes his buddies had caught up with him. and the trio began a search in earnest

Sarah had found some tracks that could have included her father, they were several days old. However it was the only lead she had, so she decided to follow them a little further. There! This time she was positive her father had come this direction. With little regard for caution, she moved forward, tracking the barely dicernable markings. The creek was now well behind her as she moved inland. The light was becoming became more murky as she went further under the jungle's canopy.

---

Pitrok had been following the panther's track for some time. It was very frustrating because this creature was proving to be so elusive. It had killed one of the villages prime stud bulls and it must be destroyed.

Moving silently forward, he heard the low deep rumbling growl of the panther. The animal had stopped moving and was staring intently at something just out of Pitrok's vision. Pitrok took the opportunty to dip a spear in his deadly frog venom pouch. A very quick death awaited the target. Quietly, oh so quietly, Pitrok stalked closer and closer to the panther.

As Pitrok moved closer, he could finally see what had caught the panther's attention. He had never seen anything like this before. A hard cone shaped shell, flying a green banner, topped a red head with a white face and green eyes. Obviously female, her body was dressed in some sort of two piece gown. White hands and arms protruded from the top of the gown. At the waist several accessories attached. One that he did recognize was the belt-knife. Pitrok could not understand why the goddess or maybe a witch had not heard the panther yet. Her focus was only on the ground in front of her.

---

Sarah heard a rustling in the underbrush. She looked up and several things seemed to happen at once. She noticed a small tattoed dark skinned man holding a spear. She noticed a panther in the act of pouncing directly at her. And she noticed that time seemed to have slowed to a stand still. She pulled her revolver knowing that it would be too late.

The panther was in mid-leap, the spear was in the air, and Sarah pulled the trigger on the revolver. It went off with a great roar.  Time froze.

Will Sarah survive? Is the superstitious Pitrok friend or foe? Why had she not been aware of the panther earlier?  Her father had taught her survival skills better than that.   Stay tuned.

Chapter 5. - Prof. Swithington

A cold soaking rain gently splashed off the leaded glass windows of the study. Idly swirling a glass of eighteen-year-old whiskey, Lord Archibald Swithington read the cable yet again. He noted that all were reported in good health; that meant his daughter was alive. Fitzsimmons must be alive too, which meant that Sarah would always have a protector, not that she couldn’t take care of herself, if needed. But he knew the Sgt. Major and how devoted to his daughter Fitzsimmons had become. That gave him a feeling of some relief.

In his imagination, he could see an impish grin under big green eyes and cherished the startling resemblance to her mother. Grace Swithington and the baby had died in childbirth many years ago. All that had been left was Sarah and himself. They had become very close while dissipating the grief, and she had accompanied him on many archaeological expeditions. Maybe not the proper upbringing that Grace might have given her, but a remarkable education nevertheless. Sarah was his life. It was time to make plans.

Swithington was intrigued by the location of the island mentioned in the cable. The area had evidently never been mapped. The fact that it was so remote meant that he should prepare for an extended journey. The little idea that burned in the back of his mind would not be extinguished. A passage to the center of a theoretical hollow earth might be found at last! The Hollow Earth theory had been a pet of his for a number of years. He had been on countless trips searching for evidence to support this theory. He had been spelunking in Scotland, Iceland, Greenland, Norway and Finland looking for a passage to an inner earth all to no avail. He still believed, with renewed optimism, that an inner earth existed.

Swithington sipped his whiskey, and walked over to the desk. Sitting down, he began to write a list of items that he would take on this new expedition. As he wrote and the list lengthened, he realized that this would be a major undertaking. He would need to contact his friends in the Merchant Marine and arrange for a good size ship. Foodstuffs, medical supplies, guns and ammunition were high on his list. He would also take the spelunking gear and a tunneling machine. He would bring several of the Military Version Impervious Suits. These provided a person an armored exoskeleton and tremendously strong manipulators. Also down in his lab was the newly finished SCIMBS or Steam and Clockwork powered Impervious Mechanical Bipedal Servant. This might be the perfect trip for field trials of the SCIMBS.

Clank, Clank, Pssh, Hsss, Grrrloink! Swithington looked up from his writing and smiled. A little clockwork cat was looking at him and lashing its tail back and forth. He reached down and wound the mainspring key a few clicks. KATZ would be coming too, of course. Swithington continued to make his plans. The whiskey and the sounds of the gentle rain were forgotten.

Chapter 4. Zimdar Daily News

From Drake's Landing Daily News Bulletin:

Shipwreck survivors discover first native village during coastal survey and reconnaissance mission. Natives are hostile. Herdsmen with Arabic features observed in jungle fighting natives for  cattle, one herdsman shot accidentally.  Slaver gangs observed plying their foul trade in same region, no contact with British scouting party.  

Sgt Major Snort Fitzsimmons missing and presumed dead from crocodile attack. A champion among men, te will be missed. His fiance Sarah Swithington is unconsolable and holds to the belief that her Reginald is still alive. She vows to find him.

Chapter 3 - Ancient History

Ages ago when the world was still young, the Oracle Kayohyaohmehayo had given the King of the Peoples a task to be carried out without fail. The Oracle perceived that the Peoples would become lost to history unless their presence, art and science could be recorded and preserved. The King had acquired many victories over the years by paying close attention to the Oracle's foresights and intuitions. He was not about to change this philosophy. 

The King called his librarians, scribes and craftsmen together to begin the planning of the artifacts that would be left in perpetuity. Initial questions abut the type of edifice, and its location were pondered. The artifacts must be permanent, they must last thousands of years, and if deciphered correctly could be used to understand this society and perhaps build some of its technology. 

The decision was eventually reached to build a working model of their most important technology, their traveler. The traveler would be dismantled, so that only an advanced society would understand the assembly and use of such a device. It would be entombed in an edifice that would also house the art, language, and history of the People. 

After much deliberation, it was decided that several similar artifacts were to be created and placed in separate locations around the homeland. Given the volcanic nature of the region, it was a safer plan to insure that the People lived on throughout history. Simultaneous construction of these structures would require a large labor force, slaves were needed. The King ordered the construction of the largest traveler ever known. 

It would be sent into the mountainous regions of the lands across the sea to the north. These far off lands would eventually become India, Afghanistan and Pakistan. The traveler was constructed so that the base floor could hold three-hundred workers and their wives and children. Done properly this one traveler using all its available space could return with approximately five-hundred usable laborers and their families.

During the construction, skilled miners delved deep into the earth where the known veins of Ruby and the Quiwsnartz crystal were to be found. During the mining effort several small Rubies and Quiwsnartz crystals were found. These were perfect for the models that were to be left behind for history. Finally a ruby the size of an egg and a flawless Quiwsnartz crystal the length a man's arm were found. 

These two pieces were immediately sent to the craftsman guilds for shaping, faceting, polishing and alignment. The ruby was cut, polished and faceted into a teardrop shape the size of a man's thumb. It was perfect, and was given to the priestess that would pilot the traveler. The Quiwsnartz crystal had been faceted into a long obelisk pointed on both ends. It was the largest gem that had ever been aligned with an equally massive Ruby. 

The priestess and her mathematician, telepathically, used the Ruby to reach into the crystal. The process was begun - and after considerable time was completed. The Quiwsnartz was now forever bonded to the Ruby. In all the People's recorded history there was no known record of the Quiwsnartz changing colors. This giant one had become a deep ominous ebony. Its power was unfathomable. 

The priestess realized that she would only be able to guide this giant if she was in communion with the mathematician. With that constraint in mind she advised the King that it was ready to be installed into the shimmering mineral core of the traveler. When the construction was complete, the ship itself was a large octahedron shape at rest in stable position.

The ship was used many times to travel between the Source Land of the Peoples into the mountainous area, across the sea to the north. The men and women found were a hardy stock. The times were poor, a promise of a better life from the Priestess and her retinue was eagerly accepted in exchange for hard manual labor. It was a fair arrangement, the labor was hard, but the tribesmen were used to very hard labor. The Priestess kept her promises, the tribesmen all received cattle, goats, seed and dwellings with arable soil.

The months and years passed, there were many pyramids built across the Source Land, each contained a small ruby, and a Quiwsnartz obelisk. The Stone Mason guilds had fashioned two square-based pyramids in the shimmering mineral. These were added to the inventory. Each had been hollowed out in the center of the base and that cavity had been lined with gold. 

The cavity in each was the receptacle for one-half of the Quiwsnartz, and by fitting them together a Conshrieve was produced. This artifact in particular was at the heart of the success of the People. Travel, anywhere instantly could be achieved. The Conshrieve controlled by a Priestess was a powerful technology indeed. 

The model Conshrieve ships were all assembled and tested and found to be in working order. They were then disassembled and each piece was stored in its own specially made cache. The interior of the pyramid was covered with pictographs and runes describing the device. Other pyramids contained the recorded history of the Peoples. Others contained arts, crafts and cultural artifacts. The wishes of the Oracle were being carried out. 

The communities of the Arabic laborers had grown over the years, families had children and grand-children. The population had swelled until the granted land could no longer sustain that amount of people. New land was accessed and a city began to grow. The original promise between the priestess and the clansmen did not apply to the progeny. Unrest and distrust grew between the Peoples and the Tribesmen. 

The priestess grew old. The prolonged mental association with the ebony obelisk had turned her disposition dark and moody. All humor had been burned from her soul. The mathematician had become a slight, whip-thin shell of a man. His skin was stretched tight over his bones to the point of translucency. His eyes sat back deep in his skull. Dark shadows formed under his skin. It made the impression even more cadaverous. The only thing that proved the mathematician still lived were his eyes. His eyes burned with a deep concentrated fire. His gaze had become dangerous, focused to a needle point. He could literally pierce his subject with a look. 

The priestess was given an order to survey the area around the Arabic settlements. She gathered her crew and the taciturn mathematician and started her flight. The settlements had grown large indeed, there were at least ten to fifteen thousand people in the city. A few thousand had worked their way into the surrounding jungles where farms had been built. 

As the priestess observed and recorded, she felt a change in her control of the craft. She looked over quickly to the mathematician. He sat, bewildered, clutching the side of his head. As she moved toward him, he began to cough blood. It flowed from his nose and ears. He took one last look at the priestess and slumped over dead. 

The enormity of the Quiwsnartz quickly overcame all of her control. The craft plummeted out of the sky. It embedded itself into the ground. The rock around its stern melted. As the Traveler drove deeper a fault appeared. This was fed by the energies of the Quiwsnartz crystal. The land became liquid, tremors and ground waves spread out concentrically from the crash site. 

Earthquakes shook the ground until all the dormant volcanoes triggered at once. The Land of the Peoples was shattered. The settlements of the Arabic clans were split apart. Small pockets of survivors retreated away from the active areas. These went to every area of the sub-continent seeking safe shelter. 

Time passed, pockets of survivors found each other. These grouped together and slowly flourished. Some of the Peoples knowledge was retained but most was lost to legend. The crashed traveler set silent, waiting through the ages to be found again.

A stage has been set, sadly the priestess' name has been lost to history. Will the existence of these artifacts put our fair Lady Sarah Swithington in any danger? Stay tuned.

Chapter 2. - Rivits

After many days of rough passage, in the dark of the night, the Captain heard another sound over the winds. The sound was a crashing surf off to the starboard bow. He quickly turned the Drake starboard in hopes for shelter. The sound of surf grew louder and louder. The captain held the wheel hard over with all his strength and prayed. Abruptly the Drake slammed hard into something solid and popped rivets in a hail of shrapnel.

It wasn't a great landing, everyone was bruised and bloodied, but there were no fatalities. Within a short time the storm blew onward leaving them behind. There were just a few hours before dawn. Exhausted, bandaged and grateful to be alive everyone drifted off to sleep. What new peril would the morning would bring?

As dawn was breaking, so was the Drake. Amidst sounds of crashing surf could also be heard popping rivets, groaning metal plates, and straining bilge pumps. The shipwreck survivors slowly awakened from their exhaustion induced slumber. Slowly, as wits and strength returned, they made their way to the deck. They stood dumbstruck, gazing at what had stopped the projectile named RMS Drake.

Less than one hundred meters directly east was a pristine white sand beach that sloped upward and back into a dense tropical forest. Coconut palms, palmettos and ferns were abundant, as well as razor grass and other underbrush. The forest appeared very thick and deep, a quick breeze ruffled the tops of the trees as far as they could see. As they watched, a large flock of birds rose from the trees, screaming, diving and swooping, and disappeared inland. 

The beach and forest stretched for miles to the north-northeast, until it disappeared on the horizon in haze and mist. From the Drake's perspective, the beach and forest also stretched for miles to the south-southwest, until it too vanished at the horizon. This was not a caricature desert isle with its single palm tree, this was a landmass that speculation predicted could be immense. Why it was not on any map was a mystery to Captain DeKaban.

Pop! Another rivet hurriedly leaving its berth brought the Captain's attention back to the Drake. It was past time to offload material and supplies that would allow survival. Water, food and shelter were immediate needs. In these climates, exposure to the elements was not an immediate risk, except for the sun. He prayed that was the last hurricane he would see for a long while. 

The captain set his crew to gathering all the perishables that could be preserved and had them transferred into the two ships boats. Salvage of other material that would not be affected by water was delayed. The Drake was not going to sink, the storm had thrown her several hundred meters onto a coral reef. She was taking on water as the plates failed. The realization that survival may be a long-term activity had awakened in the captain's mind. He was determined to salvage every scrap of material that might prove useful. 

As the captain turned to enter his cabin, footsteps sounded loud on the deck planking. Two crewman, breathless, wearing lop-sided and hopeful grins, came hustling up holding a waterlogged pigeon cote. The captain, in what seemed like the first time in years, smiled. There were five pigeons still alive.

Looking closer, all three that Fairvictory had given him in Capetown were looking back at him. Somewhat bedraggled and confused, the birds appeared healthy. Enlisting Lady Sarah's help, crewmen Burke and Duncan went off to warm, dry and feed the birds. The captain continued on below, now focusing on finding his navigation tools. 

Sometime later, DeKaban used two of his precious carrier pigeons to send a message to Fairvictory. The second pigeon, was a cool gray blue with a confident eye. Everyone bade it good speed and fair travel as it mimicked a bullet toward the west.

Fairvictory,

RMS Drake shipwrecked on uncharted island.

All Passengers and Crew in good health.

14 46 30S 73 26 10E

Send help,

DeKaban

For several hours the two ship's boats were kept busy salvaging the Drake. Dolphins, playing in the surf watched the small boats swim back and forth between ship and shore. They chittered at the boats every so often but soon tired of the game. They went back to feeding and surfing. The boats continued the salvage operation. Late in the afternoon, the boats brought all passengers and crew to the beach. 

Snort stepped out onto a bright white sand beach, there was plant debris everywhere. Seaweed had been pushed high on the beach; undergrowth had been ripped loose and blown about by the storm. The scattered coconuts brought his attention to an immediate task. Survival would require food, shelter and fresh water. 

With coconuts and fish to be harvested, food was plentiful, if not exactly gourmet. A remembered image of the swarming birds returned to Snort. There would be game available, but the birds also meant there was fresh water somewhere near. A scouting party should be sent out, soon. Snort turned to help Sarah out of the boat.

Sarah extended her hand to Reginald and stepped out of the ship's boat onto the sandy white beach. This place was beautiful and sent her imagination running back to her childhood. She remembered daydreams of far off islands full of adventure. She remembered them as much more comfortable however, and her pragmatic side pulled her out of reverie. 

With Reginald at her side, she strode inland, until she was almost at the jungle edge. Looking around she found a few coconut palms that had been blown over in the storm. These would serve nicely as seating around a fire-pit. She began to gather material for a fire.

The next few weeks settled into routine, limited exploration and survival. Snort and some of the 213th Worcestershire soldiers explored the area. A little brook, that ran quick and clear, was found about a half-mile from their initial landing point. Construction of shelter close to the brook was immediately begun. Soon there were several buildings that offered a modicum of comfort.

As the days passed, Lady Sarah came to the realization that rescue may never arrive. She needed something to hold onto her courage. A remembrance from her childhood of a little white prick-eared terrier, with boundless energy and courage came to her unbidden. Her father had given her that dog, and told her that its name was Scimitar. She had not been able to pronounce that name, it tangled on her tongue and lips. Her father had smiled at the attempt.

During the evening meal, Sarah asked DeKaban if he had thought of a name for this newly discovered land. He had not. She described the memory and the link to her father and home that the little dog's name conjured. 

Capt. DeKaban was delighted with the story and hastily organized a ceremony. Shortly after dinner, with everyone in full military dress, Capt. DeKaban proclaimed "This new land is claimed for Queen and Country and shall in future be known as - Zimdar". A toast was raised and downed at the christening.

The RMS Drake is ruined, the shipwrecked company is on an uncharted island. Will they ever be rescued? Stay tuned.

Chapter 1. - Challenges at Sea

Her Royal Majesties Steamship Drake left the port of Weymouth, England in the summer of 1842. She sailed south toward the Cape of Good Hope. This was the start of a long journey to India. The RMS Drake was loaded with trade goods, building materials, and mail for the far flung garrison posts. The mail was to be delivered throughout the East Indies trading company expansion.

The weather was fair with a slight breeze coming in off the Atlantic. A young couple, standing together at the railing, were gazing out into the sea. The breeze, crisp and cool, raised goose-flesh on the arms of Lady Sarah Swithington, late of Darby Dale. 

She was the brand-new fiancée of Sgt. Major Reginald Fitzsimmons. The Sgt Major, a daring and dashing figure of a man, looked at her and smiled. Lady Swithington gently rubbed her arms and smiled in anticipation of the voyage to come and the experiences of exotic ports of call.

Meanwhile - out in the middle Atlantic, weather conditions had been remarkably placid for much too long. Wind had been almost non-existent for days. There had been very few clouds and the sun was in full blossom...

The RMS Drake lazily sambaed her way southward calling in many exotic ports. She visited Brest, Bordeaux, Oporto, Lisbon, Cadir and finally Gibraltar. Lady Sarah and Sgt. Major Fitzsimmons went sight seeing in each port. There they sampled local cuisine, gathered small souvenirs and stored memories that would last a life time. The voyage had been idyllic. Lady Sarah could not imagine a more perfect trip.

The Drake resupplied and provisioned while in Gibraltar. Capt. Roger DeKaban also had her inspected and was satisfied with the report. Although, why did the boiler suddenly cease operation between Lisbon and Cadir? That thought, nagged at him for years to come. RMS Drake left Gibraltar and turned south toward the coast of Africa. She made good speed with the boiler rhythmically chugging a happy little melody.

Out in the Atlantic the clear sky and merciless sun began to heat the water. Wind directions in Antarctica changed and begin blowing northward. And cool breezes had been following the Drake southward since Weymouth.

Along the coast of Africa, RMS Drake made port at Robat, Mogadore, and Bofadar. By selling most of their trade goods, the Captain and crew were happy. It was their intent to buy more on the "Coasts" that were quickly approaching. The lure of cheap Ivory, Gold and Silver had them smiling in anticipation. This would be a very profitable trip.

A small toast was raised in the Captain's cabin to celebrate the crossing the Tropic of Cancer. Afterwards Sarah and Fitzsimmons retired to their respective cabins. The small dram of brandy had merely whetted the Sergeant Major's appetite, not quenched a thirst. The men of the Highlanders had nicknamed him “Snort” because of the prodigious amount of whiskey he could drink. 

One of his mates, Mark Winterglen, had said "If he is not on duty, he is drinking, watch your whiskey boys, he just snorts it down." That had been a good laugh and had cost Fitzsimmons a few more drinks. The name "Snort" had been with him since that day. Now where was that bottle?

Sarah entered her cabin and began to make preparations for her evening's repose. She absentmindedly noticed that the swell was somewhat larger The wind seemed to be more noticeable too. One of her lamps was guttering somewhat. She needed to trim the wick. One last thing, though, she had better go check on Reginald. She had noticed the wistful look on his face as the Captain had put the stopper back in the decanter.

The voyage continued down the coast of Africa with stops at Port Lokko and Free Town. The Drake stopped at Monrovia on the Grain Coast and resupplied some of the foodstuffs. Turning east, she then began her voyage on down the Coasts, stopping at every port imaginable. The Drake's crew and Captain traded diligently picking up Ivory, Gold and Silver. 

As she neared the Mouths of the Quorra, preparing to turn south again, the boiler went out. No warning, nothing. One second it was perking along normally, the next it was ominously quiet. It did relight, after some effort, but its rhythm had changed.

The water vapor suspended over the area that had been heating for weeks met with the northerly flowing winds from Antarctica and the southern bound winds that had chased the Drake all the way from England. Rotation around the hot spot started almost immediately.

The party for crossing the Equator allowed the crew to blow off some steam. Snort lived up to his name and enjoyed himself tremendously. The tips of his ears and nose turned slightly red when he drank, but that was about the only visible symptom. Even though he could drink prodigious amounts, he was never out of control. Things were good with the world. Snort Fitzsimmons was a thoroughly likable man. 

Once the Drake left Nazareth, it was back to work. The boiler was running rougher now although it had not failed again. Capt. DeKaban made inquiries at every port but spare parts were not to be found. He decided to press straight on to Cape Town in hopes that spare parts or at least an adequate smithy could be found.

The Drake's boiler died twice between Mayumba and Cape Frio. The crew had tried everything to fix it. This included a complete cleaning of all the firebox and circulation components while docked at Cape Frio. That activity helped somewhat. The engine was still off rhythm, but it did not die again during the remaining voyage to Cape Town.

The mid-Atlantic storm had gathered strength and had grown into a full-fledged hurricane. It had wandered around the hot spot like a drunken tripod dog, not quite deciding to travel east or west. The north winds finally grabbed hold and started pushing the storm southeast.

At Cape Town the inquiries for spare parts went for naught. There were several smithies but the Captain thought his crew were more qualified than the smiths. He set them cleaning, lubricating and polishing one more time. The Drake replenished its fresh water supply and added some fruit to the stores. Snort and Sarah spent a delightful evening with an old friend of the Captain.

Mark Fairvictory was an excellent host and conversationalist. He enjoyed entertaining his old friend and the other travelers from home. The meal was superb, with excellent cigars and brandy afterwards. The dinner conversation embraced many subjects including news from England, local hunting conditions and sporting events. Fairvictory was extremely keen on his teams chances in the upcoming Cricket tournament and regretted that DeKaban would not be around to watch.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, but there were ominous clouds off in the northwest and the swell was rising. The captain ordered RMS Drake to cast off, he was going to run in front of the storm. The Drake should be safe once it got around the Cape of Good Hope and sheltered on the eastern side of Africa. 

The Drake dropped south out of Cape Town, the boiler chugging right along. It stayed out south of the Cape. The Captain wanted to make sure there was deep water under the keel. Finally the Drake started its turn to the east.

The storm was a monster and its winds were gaining velocity, it was now bound directly for the Cape of Good Hope pushing high seas in front of it.

The captain realized he had dreadfully underestimated the storm. The seas were tremendous, with waves continuously crashing over the bow. He ordered all his crew to be tied to lifelines and anything else lashed into place. All passengers, including Sarah and Snort were told to stay in their cabins. It was not said, but understood that this situation was dicey. 

The RMS Drake sailed into seas that were becoming rougher and wilder. The Captain called for all the power the little boiler could produce. The Captain and the helmsman were both manning the wheel, straining to keep the bow into the huge waves. The Drake was pounding along, its bilge pumps were almost overwhelmed. The captain applied every bit of skill he knew to keep his ship alive. Silently, he prayed to every god he knew, to let his beloved RMS Drake to survive.

The seas were immense, they had become nasty, boiling, living monsters with wild frothing mist blowing off their tops. The wave walls were vertical, taller than many multi-storied buildings. The Drake was barely capable of maintaining steerage, and the storm was pushing against it violently. Pound, pound, pound! Waves crashed violently onto the deck. 

Late in the day, the engine simply gave up. The rough conditions had exacerbated the internal problems and it simply couldn't cope anymore. RMS Drake, now without power, could only be pushed along in front of the storm. All the captain could do was sail, dammit, sail. To keep the Drake from capsizing he used the rudder to keep the bow into the waves. He did not sleep, he sailed and prayed.

The storm blew for several days, the Drake was literally lost at sea. The ship was showing signs of the incessant pounding. It was tossed around as easily as dandelion seeds in a breeze. The storm winds were so fierce and shrill that one couldn't hold a coherent thought. 

Sarah was violently seasick and Snort was not much better although putting on a brave face. They were clinging to each other for comfort. All were privately making their peace with their God in one way or another. Minutes passed like hours and days seemed like years. The storm raged on.

Oh dear, will RMS Drake and all on board be lost at sea. Will our Lady Sarah Swithington survive? Stay tuned.