“You didn’t check with the council in Cairo before you set course?”

“Didn’t know we were coming here, exactly.” Rue was put off by the accusation in her tone. And her own guilt. She should have thought to make enquiries. Then again, enquiries would have left a record.

“The Mahdists hold it, but they’re stretched with forces out at Adwa. They took some of Khartoom’s major defences with them to roust the Italians. It leaves Khartoom vulnerable, and nervous about it. I wouldn’t go to ground if I were you.”

Rue slouched in dejection. “We may not have a choice.”

She put in a call to engineering, not sure if she was more reluctant to talk to Quesnel or Aggie. No choice—Aggie answered.

“Miss Phinkerlington, how are coal reserves?”

“Pants, Captain.”

“No need for vulgarity.”

A snort met that rebuke.

“How many days?”

“No days. Hours.”

Rue hung up the speaking tube, cursing herself for not putting a system in place that warned of low reserves. I suppose if I were on speaking terms with my chief engineer and not bent on avoiding him for days at a time…

She returned to Anitra at the railing, glum. “No choice. We’re dry. Will they even sell coal to us?”

“Can you be another nationality? Raise a flag and don a foreign tongue?”

Rue didn’t think they had any other flags aboard. She was not devious enough to have thought of that ahead of time. To be British was, well, British. Why be anything else? That was the general British attitude. Although Rue was beginning to learn, the hard way, the ever expansion of their empire was not exactly welcomed by its recipients.

“What would be less threatening?”

Anitra ticked off on one hand. “French and Italian are all out. Canadians are allied with British, so they’re no good either.”

Rue mentally ran through her and Primrose’s collective wardrobes.

“American? We would only have to try an accent.”

Anitra considered. “Might work. Americans do like to play tourist and this ship is garish enough.”

Rue nodded. “I’ll call a meeting.”

She sounded the duck horn, a resonating quack that was, quite frankly, ridiculous but shook the boards of The Spotted Custard in such a way as to permeate the airship as far down as the boiler room. Three blasts everyone knew meant the officers were to meet. In very short order, Rue had Primrose, Quesnel, and Percy in the navigation pit. Anitra joined them. Rue decided it wasn’t necessary to awaken Tasherit. They’d tell her later, if they survived until nightfall.

“We’re desperate for fuel. I’m sorry it’s got so bad. I should have asked engineering for an update sooner.” She figured she might as well own responsibility, although in future she’d put Quesnel and Aggie under orders to alert her the moment they had less than eight hours at maximum use. She was annoyed they hadn’t alerted her and wouldn’t put negligent sabotage past Aggie, but there was no point in calling Quesnel out in front of the others.

“So we must refuel here in Khartoom.”

Everyone’s faces went a little white.

“Unfriendly city at the moment, so we are going in to moor under a different nationality.”

No one expected that.

“American.”

No one objected. There was no love lost between England and her former colony, particularly over the matter of supernaturals, but that made the Stars and Stripes a better cover.

Rue assumed her most captain-like air, attempting to sound cool and calm. “Primrose, you have that dark blue dress with the white dots; that’ll do for the stars. Percy, I’m afraid we need your striped bathing costume. Cobbled together, those two will make for a passable flag. Primrose, Virgil’s a valet; he likely has rudimentary sewing skills. Put him to work with a quick baste. Doesn’t need to be hemmed or anything – only needs to withstand a glance through glassicals. Luckily we don’t fly colours regularly, so there is nothing to take down that might already have been spotted.”

Primrose looked like she wanted to object to the conscription of her blue gown but nodded and left to do as she was bidden.

Percy looked dour but did not object. He had very little love of anything material that wasn’t typed on paper. “Virgil will have to find me something else to swim in. He’s not going to be happy. Made enough fuss about the stripy one.”

Rue didn’t say anything but she was secretly pleased to hear Percy even slightly worried about the opinion of his valet. Every valet should keep his master a touch terrified of his good opinion.

“I want everyone on high alert, but say as little as possible. I don’t think they’ll speak much English or can differentiate accents if they do, but best to stay silent unless communication is vital. That includes you, Spoo.”

Spoo was, naturally, eavesdropping on the conference. Rue hadn’t even bothered to look where. A disembodied voice said, “Yes, Lady Captain.”

Rue turned to Anitra. “Additional suggestions?”

“Speak cockney if you can. To those not fluent in your tongue, it sounds enough like American to pass. Grandfather taught me that.”

“Oh, I say!” said Percy.

“Percy,” said Rue, “you are not to speak at all.”

Percy’s expression said he felt that silence was superior to cockney regardless.

“Will we be boarded? We haven’t United States documents.” Quesnel spoke quietly. “I’ve got French but that’s almost worse than British right now. Politically, I mean.”