Accalon's response tot he Captain was a curt affirmation.  And to any observers, it would be clear on his walk to the engine that he was rather put out.  He had considered several reactions the Captain may have had, but none of them were that he would actually be startled.

[i]At least he wasn't all that upset by it.[/i]

But, while there was certainly something off about the captain—and his name was still patently ridiculous—Accalon was beginning to think that he had... missed the mark.  He was strange, to be sure.  But stranger than a Tomb Colonist?  Than a Rubbery?

[i]Perhaps it is the ship.[/i]

He hadn't been on too many voyages out onto the Unterzee, but he knew the design of the inconsistency of the sizes of the rooms was... abnormal.  And it was an old ship.  He wasn't sure how old.  Ten years?  Twenty?

...Thirty?

While he could hardly tell, the thought that the ship dated from before the Fall of London was—

[i]No.[/i]

Accalon had reached the engine.

[i]I can't go off like that.  Need to keep my head.  Keep rational.[/i]

He fed fuel into the engine.

[i]I'm not just some furnace-stoker.[/i]

He lit the fire.

[i]I'm not just some pickpocket.[/i]

The engine roared to life.

[i]I would think that I would have learned by now, not to jump to conclusions like that.[/i]

He sighed.

[i]This place has turned me paranoid.  I've got to work with these people.  Live with them.  This isn't Spite, or the Flit.  I'm probably the only only person on this ship that...[/i]

He laughed.  It was a soft thing, but filled with mirth.  It banished the dour miasma that had taken over the room.

"Besides," he said aloud, "I keep the damn ship running.  They all need me.  If nothing else, I can rely n them for that."

He knew he'd need to keep an eye on the engine, but he wanted to get into the open air.  Maybe watch as the Bazaar's spires shrank in the distance.

The Bazaar...

[i]That's one thing about the Neath.  It's always has a certain dignity, a certain majesty, to it.  Even if it isn't pretty.  Or plausible.[/i]