A runner wiped the sweat from his forehead as he rushed up the steps of city hall to find the mayor. Tenk turned, eyeing the cylinder in the boy’s hand.
“Good heavens lad. What have you got there?”
The mayor flipped the boy a hapenny and unscrewed the cap from the brass cylinder. He furrowed his brows at the script, while the boy looked on expectantly.
“What does it say, sir?”
“I’m not sure. Where did you say this came from?”
“The operator said he couldn’t tell where the point of origin was.”
“Hmmmm. Curious…”
..- .-. –. . -. – … – — .–. – — – …. . .–. . — .–. .-.. . — ..-. -. . .– -… .- -… -… .- –. . … – — .–. -.– — ..- — ..- … – –. .- – …. . .-. .- – – …. . – — .– -. …. .- .-.. .-.. — -. … .- – ..- .-. -.. .- -.– . .. –. …. – …. — ..-. — -.-. – — -… . .-. .- – – …. . …. — ..- .-. ..-. — ..- .-. .. -. – …. . .- ..-. – . .-. -. — — -. … – — .–.
As I was once a scout for the Union in the American Civil War, I am quite familiar with this code, though I am not certain whether or not it has an additional code cypher imbedded. Clockwinder Tenk, this seems to make necessary a gathering of the Citizens of New babbage, for prudence sake, at least. I look forward to your call for the date and time of this meeting. Perhaps next week?
Let me see…hmmm…URGENT STOP TO THE PEOPLE OF NEW BABBAGE STOP YOU MUST…hmmm I where did I put that code book?
::shakes a fist in frustration as his typist will be at an IRL wedding at that date and time::
*reads the message, makes a note on the calendar*
((My typist will also be unavailable. Drat our dependency on such unreliable people!))
And it should be a rather interesting meeting, considering half the people will be zombies, and the other half will be hunting the zombies!
((Erm…if this is the start of Loki’s thing, which I suspect, this isn’t exactly great timing for it.))
sure it is, we’ll barricade ourselves in city hall! pass the ammo!
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.’ `))` ‘.
/ (( , \
; , \) , ;
; /c\ , /c\
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| |\ , , , , /| |
\ \_`.`.`..`_/ /
‘.____.___.____.’ (( sorry …. couldn’t resist ! twirls away .. ))
The Maestro crouched underneath the control console of his “airship” when a loud klaxon caused him to bolt upright, smacking his head on the panel he was repairing. “Ow! What the hell was that?” he asked. Pulling himself up, he looked at a panel which was blinking with an incoming transmission. Recognizing the series of “beeps” and “boops” as Morse Code, he began running the message through the multiphasic anthrostatic intermorphic translatorographer matrix. “An urgent call for help or something,” he thought. He replaced the cover on the panel he had been working on, set the proper coordinates, and prepared to arrive at the designated meeting time and place. If there was trouble in New Babbage, he was going to be at the center of it!
Orpheus rushed to the console as klaxons began to sound again. The ship had tried to land, then immediately launched itself back into the void.
“What is going on?” asked the timelord as he checked the coordinates. Everything checked out. Then it dawned on him. He couldn’t land at the designated time because he had already been there when he had been infected with the plague virus. He made a few modifications and prepared to arrive as soon as the other him left New Babbage.
Blimey! But s’posing its a trap!