The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper

by Larry E. Clarke

  When it was time for him to return home he presented me with a package of letters to his parents and to one or two other friends in Mon-Ton. At his request I read the letter to his parents twice through (although it was the length of novella). He reasoned that the trip back would be long and arduous and if the packet did not make it at least I could tell them about its contents. He sealed everything in a sort of oilskin, doubled over the edges, then used a needle and thread to stitch it tightly shut. As an additional precaution he rubbed wax into the seams to make them watertight. I promised if I were within my power to do so I would deliver it to his parents though, as insurance, I suggested he send a similar packet with the first trading vessel bound for the Eastern shores.

  Sixteen days later the team stood in a shallow basin a few kilometers southeast of the Capital. Behind us in the still morning air our lighter than air ship, the newly christened “Pride of Arthena” tugged gently at it’s moorings. Ground crews stood by lines ready for our departure. After a few preliminary remarks by the president of the Grand Council the crew climbed a ladder to the entered the enclosed gondola.

  Captain Allestaer and three other Threatans would serve both as crew for the airship and as expedition members. The scientific crew consisted of Mola al Sarani and his wife Omeera. Mola was the grandson of Llan and was Leeta’s cousin! Both he and Omeera were noted scientists in about their mid 40’s who had a numerous publications about the transport sites. The head of the science team, Pamolas Vertang, was older. He was a generalist. His age was difficult to determine. Although his coppery locks were liberally dusted with grey he was clearly a vigorous man. Dhars, Lady Camille and I completed the crew list. Soltan had briefly considered coming but in the end decided to join the next expedition to establish trade with the Eastern shores. He figured the incident with the Alveno would be forgiven if not forgotten by now and longed to see his friends in Mon-ton. He took several letters from Dhars and a couple from me. We were all eager to let Leeta and all the folks at the Cornered Vanu know what had become of us. I debated entrusting Ferst’s packet of letters to his care as well but considered that regardless of where Lady Camille and I ended up, Dhars would be traveling home eventually. He seemed a more reliable messenger. Instead I advised Soltan where Ferst could be found and asked him to journey inland before he sailed to collect whatever materials Ferst might care to send. I would keep the original packet he had given me.

  Conditions were ideal for launch. A light breeze blew in from the east at about 5 kph. Just as the sun was making its way into the shallow depression Captain Allestare gave to order to lift. The drone from the four small engines fueled by alcohol rose in pitch. Water ballast was dropped and the segmented gasbag filled with many, many cubic meters of hydrogen began to do its work. We lifted steadily to an altitude of about 200 meters. The captain turned the Pride’s nose to the northwest and we were underway. The shell of the gondola and girders of the ship were made of incredibly strong plant fibers covered over with a powerful resin. Once it hardened this honeycomb like composite material had the strength of metal with very little weight. I had to admire the use of native materials to make such a serviceable vessel. With no metal aboard the risk of fire would also be reduced.

  Our route took us back toward the capitol. Captain Allestar circled the city once at medium altitude. The streets were filled with citizens waving and cheering. We could hear them over the drone of the engines located at the aft end of the airframe. Placing them there had added to the stability of flight and kept most of the engine noise away from the gondola. To reach the area the engineer on duty clipped on to a safety line and then walked a narrow catwalk to a small shelter in the midst of the engines. At any given time two of these internal combustion engines were operated and two were kept in reserve. From his position he could also service the enormous vertical rudder that helped guide the ship. Slightly forward of mid-ship were two stubby “wings” which provided a little lift when we were moving forward and also served as control surfaces to help orient the craft. Communication from the engineer’s position to the main cabin was maintained by way of a speaking tube into which one whistled for attention.

  Palomas served as engineer. He kept the engines fueled and tuned in flight and monitored their performance frequently. The captain and the rest of us would sleep in shifts and be ready when needed to provide relief. We also helped with other chores such as checking weather ahead, navigating the ship, or any other duties the captain might assign. We were a small group so each recognized the need to lend a hand. Dhars volunteered for the role of “cook”. At sunrise he uncovered a solar cooking device that used polished metal surfaces and large lens to focus the sun’s rays on whatever had been put into a special chamber. It was a sort of solar powered “microwave oven”. Whenever the sun shone we could use it to boil water and heat the prepared rations the expedition had selected. They were not so good as the banquet fare we’d had before departure but were entirely edible. The first day at lunch I thought fleetingly of commenting about this. Instantly I checked myself recalling the slop we had endured so long as slaves. . . I decided the rations were “just fine”.

  “Well Petar, what do you think of our country?” Omera asked as we stood on the upper level of the gondola. We had dubbed this the “observation deck”. It was accessed via a steep ladder through a hatch in the ceiling/floor, now closed. The area was most often used by Palomas for navigation and weather readings. He climbed up several times each day, sextant in hand to get the readings which would allow calculation of our position from the maps and the ephemeris he kept ready beside the helm below. At present Omera and I had the deck to ourselves.

  “Your land is awe inspiring. It reminds me of many parts of my own world.” In the past three days we had glided slowly above a fascinating variety of slowly changing terrain. Near the capital the roads and villages were close together. The fields formed a semi-regular patchwork of textures and colors. From our altitude of about 200 meters we could see easily into the animal pens and corrals sprinkled near most of the clustered farm houses. We could see the green commons of the villages. On the first night out we dropped mooring lines into the eager hands of the people Balathrea, a pleasant town of about 12,000 north and east of the capital. The region was know for the large quantities of cereal grains produced there. Not all of which went into bread or animal feed. The art of brewing and distilling was well known to the Balathreans.

  Just as it seemed every resident of the town must have come out to see the Pride, it also seemed every one of them was eager to have us sample their own version of the dark ales and the light brown “Verso” distilled from a combination of the local grains. It reminded me very much of a drink popular in Mol-Ton called “Alverao”. . . light and brown with slightly nutty flavor and enough alcohol produce a nice blue flame when burned and a warm glow in the throat and chest as it went down. My past experience led me to consume lightly from the many glasses thrust in my hand, pronouncing each one of the finest I had ever tasted. (In fact they were all about the same to my uneducated taste. I felt like at teetotaler trying to judge a selection of fine Scotch whiskies . . .I was not up to the task). While we were being toasted by the local dignitaries and tempted with the finest the town had to offer a small contingent of troops from the civil defense force seemed honored to guard the airship.

  On the second night out we were scheduled to stop at the town of Salama’s Crease (named for minor goddess and a naughty looking feature of the local topography). A stiff breeze from the northwest had driven us about 40 kms off course. Anything more than a gentle breeze tended to turn the Pride into a large and barely steerable kite. The Captain informed us that although we could beat back against the wind to make the town it would be an unnecessary waste of fuel. Instead we put in at “Lavesa”(Harmony), a community of about 600. At first no one noticed our approach. Then we could see a child trying to locate the sound of our motors. Five minutes later the entire population was in a recently harvested fiel
d at the outskirts of town. We hovered about 75 feet in the air, just above the treetops. The captain brought the nose into the light breeze and gave the order that the mooring lines be dropped. Dhars and I were responsible for deploying the port side lines. The captain moved from side to side shouting instructions to those on the ground through a megaphone. A few minutes later we were securely anchored, the watch had been set and those at liberty were being spirited off to be feted by town’s people who were delighted at our presence. The captain had arranged for a wagon to rendezvous with a team from Salama. They would return by morning with the alcohol fuel pre-positioned there. Arrangements had been made and our situation reported via the newly installed telegraph line.

  Well fed and well rested Dhars, and I rose from our beds in the home of the Mayor. As we washed and prepared for breakfast he commented. “This has all been pretty easy so far Petar but I think soon it will be different”. How right he was.

  In the course of the next two days the population centers became smaller and farther apart. Soon we began to encounter stretches of forest with no sign of human habitation. . . no roads, no smoke from fires, no fields under cultivation. Omera had become our unofficial tour guide. She advised that a few very independent individuals occupied this region, making their living by hunting, fishing, gathering, trapping and trading. The winters were cold here and only got worse as the elevation increased.

  The weather ahead looked questionable so Captain Allestaer put the Pride down in a large clearing and had her securely tied off for the night. He explained that the next leg of our journey would involve crossing the Ilannii range with several major peaks over 4,000 meters. Even the best passes were in the 2,400 m to 3,000 m range. Commenting again on how changeable mountain weather would be he added: “I have a feeling we’ll need that foul weather gear we’ve got stowed aboard.”

  Before shaking out bed rolls that night Dhars and I discussed the crossing. “What concerns me” I commented “is that we have been making at best 15 kph in calm air. If the headwinds are greater than that we actually lose ground. Now we have to cross more than 90 kms before reaching the altoplano beyond. If the weather favors us we can do it. . .if not. . .I hate to think about being aloft, in the dark, or in bad weather in these mountains”.

  CHAPTER 33

  For two days the weather had been overcast and threatening rain so the Captain had delayed our transit of the mountains. Pamolas had been occupied part of the time with his new device for generating more hydrogen. I didn't understand the complete operation but it involved passing electric current from a hand cranked generator through a mixture of water and other catalizing chemicals and then using a hand pump to force the gas produced through one way valves into the many separate chambers which gave the Pride her lift. Gas that had been used maneuvering could be replaced and the pressure/volume of gas in the bags optimized.

  While we waited on the weather I used much of the time to update the history of the expedition. The log had been found just where I'd left it aboard the Dumpling. A copy had been made to send with Verek. This delay while waiting for better weather seemed an ideal time to bring it up to date. I also learned a board game similar to “Go” from Omeera. It was called “Zute” which roughly translated means “surprise”. A fitting name for a game typified by sudden reversals of fortunes following a single move.

  Others of the party did a bit of hunting. Last night we'd dined on a roast K’marg, a tasty critter the size of a small pig. Dhars had prepared it on a spit over an open fire in the shelter of some trees well away from where the Pride was tied down. Mola and Omera had contributed to the meal by gathering wild mushrooms and fall greens to make a salad. We used a bottle of dessert wine fermented from fisalberries. Afterwards, as we sat at the campfire Pamolas surprised us by drawing a small musical instrument from a bag. He had a fine tenor voice and entertained us with a wide selection of popular songs and folk music. The Threatens seemed to know all the words. Dhars and Camille and I occasionally joined in after learning at least the chorus.

  His instrument was hand crafted of exotically grained wood, richly inlaid. It was played across the lap/knees and had more strings than a dulcimer but not so many as a zither. On the inlaid fret board a geometric motif had been worked into the wood using a material somewhat like mother of pearl. The strings could be stopped down using the fingers or a three sided slide. This latter device had one side faced in leather, another in some type of felt, and a third of bare ivory or bone. The timber of the instrument varied considerable depending on which slide face was used and how firmly it was pressed against the strings. On his right hand he wore a full spread of finger picks which he used with great dexterity to produce both the melody and an accompanying strummed harmony. The party continued until near midnight when a light rain forced us to the shelter of the Pride's cabins.

  Day was breaking cold and clear and the breeze was light as Dhars and I stood at the rail of the upper deck the next morning. The conditions were nearly idea. Once the light was sufficient for easy navigation the Captain gave the order to “Cast off”. Engines hummed as the Pride rose smartly in a gradual upward spiral gaining altitude before turning north-west toward the pass. I was pleased to be getting under way but I’d would miss the “summer-camp-like” time we'd had during the last few days. Last night had had been a most fitting coda. . .fine food eaten in congenial company. Those warm memories were soon to be displaced by the ever expanding view of the mountains as the ship continued to gain altitude. Our hope was to use engine power in the relatively still air to avoid the higher peaks while cruising through the lower passes.

  The maps showed some relatively broad valleys cut through much of the range. Throughout the day we returned often to the rail. Our passage was somewhat like a balloon ride through the Swiss Alps, save for the absence of roads and villages.

  Captain Allestaer had estimated that with favorable winds we could cross the range in about 18 hours. Thus far conditions had remained ideal. IF our good weather held we could clear the range near midnight tonight. The Captain had indicated that unless a good landing site presented itself he planned to fly on by moonlight until clear of the range.

  After a light lunch of bread, cheese, and left over K'marg, Omera and I had another game of Zute. Although I was improving I remained no match for her experienced play. Sometimes I managed to keep it close enough to be interesting.

  When the meal was finished Palomas climbed the short gangway to where Dhars and I were standing at the rail of the observation deck. He carried with him the instruments he used to measure wind speed, humidity, and air pressure. He took readings several times each day, usually at about dawn, mid-day, dusk and sometimes late at night. He took additional readings whenever he felt were needed but it was uncommon for him to obtain a data set at this time of day.

  “What do the instruments say?” I asked.

  He frowned and paused a moment before replying: “Well, Petar. . . forecasting weather in the mountains is much more complicated than it is in the flat lands. Here the mountains sometimes make their own weather. The patterns are too complex and we have too little data. . . so we understand very little. Still, the air pressure has fallen 7.5 rotters (a unit of measurement meaningless to me). Such a drop often indicates very unsettled, even stormy weather is approaching”

  “Do you think we can run out of the mountains before it starts?”.

  “ I doubt it. Look to the West and you'll see the clouds building into thunderheads already. I'm going to advise captain Allestaer of the situation. If an opportunity to land presents itself I'm going to suggest we take the Pride down as soon as possible.” With that he turned and descended into the control room.

  For the next two hours our concerns grew along with the storm clouds now forming both ahead and behind us. All who were not otherwise occupied were turned out to scan the terrain ahead for a possible landing site. The lands below were extremely rugged. The valleys were narrow and steep walled. There was dense brush
at the lower altitudes and rocky skree above. While we might touch down there was no shelter for the Pride. Even if well moored she would remain pretty much just a huge sail in the increasingly strong winds. Already the engines were laboring to just hold her in the light headwind.

  Seeing nothing ahead that looked better the captain decided to put about and attempt a landing on a rocky mesa we’d passed a couple of kilometers back. He gave orders to prepare the mooring lines, but also to prepare to remove items from the gondola that might be needed in an emergency. This last was a bit of foresight for which we would soon have cause to be quite grateful.

  The plan was to touch down in a relatively open area and to secure as many lines as possible to the large rocks that ringed it. The Pride could then be winched down close to the ground. With that done we would each to remove specific emergency items. Finally, we'd help pitch one of the expedition tents in the best shelter we could find.

  It took four attempts before the captain could bring the Pride down. Dhars and I joined Mola and Pamolas in securing the mooring lines. This was no easy task but was helped by the captain’s use of the engines at maximum rpm to hold her into the wind. As soon as she was secured the engines were cut and the Pride wenched down so the gondola actually rested against the bolder strewn ground.