“Lieutenant Mortimer Hoff,” he says, “Naval Intelligence Department. The Admiralty commends you for your actions aboard the Invictus, and for aiding in the capture of the notorious pirate, Euphemia Dawson.”
His eyes move between his papers and your face. Not once do they fall on the thick bandages around your chest. It was only yesterday that the doctors let you sit, until then they kept you lying on your stomach while they sewed up your back.
“Word has come to us that Sultan Hassan of Morroco is conducting demonstrations of a new kind of sextant he’s developed that supposedly measures the direction of Aether winds. Probably nonsense of course. But there’s a chance he’s recovered something from the wreck of the Invictus, enough to build this device.
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“You are now Her Majesty’s foremost expert on that subject. Your orders and to accompany me to Fes and obtain access to one of these demonstrations. We are to determine the efficacy of the new sextant, obtain it if possible, destroy it if necessary, and above all prevent it from falling into enemy hands.”
He pushes his glasses up his nose. The light flares on the lenses.
“England’s enemies are everywhere. The survival of our great nation may well depend on your efforts.”
- Go with Hoff. He seems useful.
- Take Euphemia. She knows the Source.
- Go Alone. You don’t trust either of them.
- Lie. Acquiesce, then escape into the night.
What will you do?