Hydrogen-emission detectors placed by the gas cells would transmit a warning if there were any leaks. Nevertheless, smoking was permitted only in five areas: the control gondola or bridge, a room halfway along the vessel's axis, the auxiliary control room in the lower tail fin, and rooms attached to the quarters of the crew fore and aft.
Barry Thorn, first officer of the tail section, reported some magnetic readings. According to this, the North Pole of The Riverworld coincided with the north magnetic pole. The magnetic force itself was much weaker than that of Earth's, so slight, in fact, that it would have been undetectable without the use of instruments known only in the late 1970's.
"Which means," Firebrass said, laughing, "that there are three poles on one spot. The North Pole, the magnetic pole, and the tower. Now, if only one of our crew was a Pole, we could have four on the same place."
Radio reception was excellent today. The ship was high above the mountains, and the transceiver of the Mark Twain was carried by a balloon towed by the boat.
Aukuso said, "You can talk now, sir."
Firebrass sat down by the Samoan's side and said, "Firebrass here, Sam. We just got word from Greystock. He's on the way, heading northeastward, ready to alter course the moment he gets wind of the location of the Rex."
"In some ways I hope you don't find Rotten John," Sam said. "I'd like to catch up with him and so have the pleasure of sinking him myself. That's not a very practical attitude, though it's mighty satisfying. I'm not a vindictive man, Milt, but that hyena would make St. Francis himself long to kick him off a cliff."
"The Minerva's carrying four forty-six-kilogram bombs and six rockets with nine-kilogram warheads,'' Firebrass said. "If only two of the bombs make a direct hit, they could sink the boat."
"Even so, that royal thief might get away safe and sound to shore," Clemens said. "He has all the good luck of the wicked. How would I ever find him then? No, I want to see his body. Or if he's taken alive, I want to wring his neck myself."
De Bergerac spoke softly to Jill. "Clemens talks big for a man who's appalled by violence. It's easy to do as long as the enemy's sixty thousand kilometers away."
Firebrass laughed and said, "Well, if you can't twist his head off, Sam, Joe's the man to do the job."
An unhumanly deep voice rumbled, "No, I'll tear off hith armth and legth. Then Tham can turn hith head around tho he can thee vhere he'th been. He von't like where he'th going."
"Tear off an ear for me," Firebrass said. "Old John almost hit me when he shot at me."
Jill presumed that he was referring to the fight aboard the Not For Hire when John had seized it.
Firebrass said, "According to calculations, the Rex should be in the area we'll be over in about an hour. You should be in the same area but about one hundred forty kilometers to the west of the Rex. Of course, we could be way off. For all we know, the Rex may not be traveling as fast as it could, or King John could've decided to dock for repairs or a very long shore leave."
An hour's conversation followed. Clemens talked to some of the crew, mostly those he had known before he'd left Parolando. She noticed that he did not ask to speak to de Bergerac.
Just as Sam was about to sign off, the radar operator reported that the Rex Grandissimus was on the scope.
Chapter 45
* * *
Staying at 452 meters altitude, the Parseval circled the boat. From that height it looked like a toy, but photographs, quickly enlarged, showed that it was indeed King John's vessel. It was magnificent. Jill thought that it would be a shame to destroy such a beautiful craft, but she did not say so. Firebrass and de Bergerac felt very strongly about the man who had hijacked their fabulous Riverboat.
Aukuso transmitted the location to Greystock, who said that the Minerva should reach the Rex the following day. He also checked the location of the Mark Twain.
"I'd like to fly over her so that Sam can get a good look at the ship that's going to sink the Rex," Greystock said.
"It won't take you out of your way to do that," Firebrass said. "And it'll give Sam a big thrill."
After he had quit talking to Clemens, Firebrass said, "I really think Greystock's on a suicide mission. The Rex is loaded with rockets, and it carries two planes armed with rockets and machine guns. It all depends on whether or not Greystock can catch the Rex by surprise. Not much chance of that if John's radar detects the Minerva. Of course, it might be off. Why should it be on? The sonar is good enough for daytime navigation."
"Yes," Piscator said. "But the people on the Rex must have seen us. They'll be wondering about us, though they won't know who we are, and they might start using the radar because they'll be suspicious."
"I think so, too," Jill said. "They can figure out easily enough that only Parolando could build a dirigible.''
"Well, we'll see. Maybe. By the time the Minerva gets to the Rex, we'll be behind the polar mountains. I don't think we can expect good radio reception there. We'll have to wait until we come back over them."
Firebrass looked thoughtful, as if he were wondering if the Parseval would return.
The sun sank behind the ground horizon, though at this altitude the sky remained bright for a long time. Finally, night came with its blazing star clouds and gas sheets. Jill talked for a few minutes with Anna Obrenova before going to her cabin. The little Russian seemed warm enough, but there was something in her manner which indicated that she was not at ease. Was she really resentful because she had not been given the first mate's position?
Before going to her quarters, Jill took a long walk through the semipressurized passageway to the tail section. Here she drank some coffee and chatted briefly with some of the officers. Barry Thorn was present, but he, too, seemed a little nervous, even more reticent than usual. Perhaps, she thought, he was still unhappy at being rejected by Obrenova. If, indeed, that had been the cause of their argument.
At that moment, she was reminded that the two had spoken in a language unknown to her. Now was not the time to ask him about that. It was possible she might never be able to bring up the subject. To do so would be to admit that she had been eavesdropping.
On the other hand, she was very curious. Some day, when there were not more pressing things to consider, she would ask him about it. She could claim that she just happened to walk by – which was the truth – and had heard a few words of the dialog. After all, if she did not understand what they were saying, she could not be eavesdropping, could she?
She went to her cabin, where she crawled into the bunk and went to sleep almost at once. At 04:00 hours a whistle from the intercom awoke her. She went to the control room to relieve Metzing, the third mate. He stood around a while, talking about his experiences as commander of the LZ-1, then left. Jill did not have much to do, since Piscator was a very competent pilot and the atmospheric conditions were normal. In fact, the Japanese had set the automatic controls on, though he kept a close watch on the indicator panel.
There were two others present, the radio and the radar operators.
"We should see the mountains at about 23:00," she said.
Piscator wondered aloud if they were as high as Joe Miller had estimated. The titanthrop had guessed them to be about 6096 meters or 20,000 feet. Joe, however, was not a good judge of distances, or, at least, not good at converting distances into metrics or the English system.
"We'll know when we get there," Jill said.
"I wonder if the mysterious occupants of the tower will allow us to return?" he said. "Or even to enter the tower?"
That question had the same answer as the previous ones. Jill did not comment.
"Perhaps, though," Piscator said, "they may allow us to survey it."
Jill lit a cigarette. She did not feel nervous now, but she knew that, when they were close to the mountains, she was going to be at least a little spooked. They would be entering the forbidden, the tabu, the area of the Castle Perilous.
Piscator, smiling, his black eyes shining, said, "Have you ever
considered the possibility that some of Them might be on this ship?"
Jill almost strangled as she sharply drew in cigarette smoke. When she was through coughing, she said, wheezing, "What in hell do you mean?"
"They could have agents among us."
"What makes you think that?"
"It's just an idea," he said. "After all, isn't it reasonable to believe that They would be watching us?"
"I think you have seen more than you're admitting. What makes you think this? It won't hurt to tell me."
"It's just an idle speculation."
"In this idle speculation, as you call it, is there someone you think could be one of Them?"
"It wouldn't be discreet to say so, even if there was someone. I wouldn't want to point the finger at a possibly innocent party."
"You don't suspect me?"
"Would I be stupid enough to tell you if I did? No, I am just thinking aloud. A most regrettable habit, one which I should rid myself of."
"I don't remember you ever thinking aloud before."
She did not pursue the subject, since Piscator made it evident he was not going to add anything. The rest of the watch she tried to think of what he might have observed and then put together to make a pattern. The effort left her head buzzing, and she went back to bed feeling very frustrated. Perhaps he had just been putting her on.
In the afternoon, only two minutes short of the time she had predicted, the tops of the polar mountains were sighted. They looked like clouds, but radar gave a true picture. They were mountains. Rather, it was one continuous mountain wall circling the sea. Firebrass, reading its indicated height, groaned.
"It's 9753 meters high! That's taller than Mount Everest!"
There was good reason for him to groan and the others to look disturbed. The airship could not go higher than 9144 meters, and Firebrass would hesitate to take it to that altitude. Theoretically, that was the pressure height of the gas cells. To go above that meant that the automatic valves on top of the cells would release hydrogen. If they did not do so, the cells would explode, having reached their inflation limit.
Firebrass would not like to take the vessel near the pressure height. An unexpectedly warm layer of air could cause the hydrogen in the cells to expand even more, thus making the ship more buoyant than was safe. Under those conditions, the Parseval would rise swiftly. The pilot would have to act swiftly, pointing the vessel's nose down and also tilting the propellers to give a downward drive. If this maneuver failed, the gas, expanding under the lessened atmospheric pressure, would stretch the cell walls to the rupture point.
Even if the ship got through this situation, its loss of valved-off gas would mean that it would become heavy. The only way to lighten the ship would be to discharge ballast. If too much ballast was dropped, the Parseval would be too buoyant.
Firebrass said, "If it's like this all the way around, we're screwed. But Joe said . . ."
He stood for a moment, thinking, watching the dark, ominous mass gradually swell. Below them the Valley wriggled snakily, eternally covered with fog in this cold area. They had long ago passed the last of the double line of grailstones. Yet the radar and the infrared equipment showed that thick, high vegetation grew on the hills. One more mystery. How could trees flourish in the cold mists?
Firebrass said, "Take her down to 3050 meters, Cyrano. I want to get a good look at the headwaters."
By "look" he meant a radar view. No one could see through the massive, boiling clouds covering the mighty hole at the base of the mountains. Bat radar showed a colossal exit for The River, an opening 4.9 kilometers or a little over 3 miles wide. The highest point of the arch was 3.5 kilometers.
The mighty flood rushed straight for 3 kilometers, then tumbled over the edge of a cliff and fell straight for 915 meters, over 3000 feet.
"Joe may have been exaggerating when he said you could float the moon on The River where it comes out of the cave," Firebrass said, "but it is impressive!"
"Yes," Cyrano said, "it is indeed grand. But the air here is almighty rough."
Firebrass ordered the Parseval to a higher altitude and on a course which would parallel the mountain at a distance of 12 kilometers. Cyrano had to crab the dirigible and swivel the propellers to keep from being blown south, and it crept alongside the towering range.
Meanwhile, the radio operator tried to get into contact with the Mark Twain.
"Keep it up," Firebrass said. "Sam'll want to know how we're doing. And I'm interested in finding out how the Minerva made out."
To the others he said, "I'm looking for that gap in the mountains. There has to be one. Joe said the sun momentarily flashed through a hole or what he thought was a hole. He couldn't see the break, but since the sun never gets more than halfway up the horizon here, it couldn't shine inside the sea unless there's a break that starts at ground level.
Jill wondered why They would have erected such a mighty barrier only to leave an opening.
At 15:05, radar reported that there was a break in the verticality. Now the airship was over mountains outside the main wall. These mountains were not the continuous process surrounding the sea but were peaks, some of which reached 3040 meters. Then, as they came closer to the break, they saw that between the lesser mountains and the wall was an immense valley.
"A veritable Grand Canyon, as you have described it to me," Cyrano said. "A colossal chasm. No one could get down its walls unless he used a rope 610 meters long. Nor could he ever get up the other wall. It is of the same altitude and its sides are as smooth as my mistress' bottom."
On the other side of the lesser mountains reared the mountain that walled The River. If a man could get over the nearer height and out of the Valley, he would men have to cross a rugged precipitous range for 81 kilometers or over 50 miles. After which, he would be confronted by the uncrossable valley.
"Ginnungagap," Jill said.
"What?" Firebrass said.
"From Norse mythology. The primal abyss in which Ymir, the first of created life, the ancestor of the evil race of giants, was born."
Firebrass snorted, and said, "Next you'll be telling me that the sea is populated by demons."
Firebrass looked cool enough, but she thought that this was a facade. Unless he had superhuman nerves, his body was under stress, the juices of the adrenals pouring out, his blood pressure up. Was he also thinking, as she was, that a much more experienced pilot should be at the controls? The Frenchman's judgment and reflexes were probably swifter than anybody else's. They had been tested scores of times in simulated emergencies during training. But he just did not have thousands of hours of airship travel under Terrestrial, that is, swiftly changing, conditions. So far, the voyage had been uneventful. But the polar environment was unknown, and passing over these mountains might bring the ship into sudden unexpected forces. Not might. Would.
Here at the top of the world, the sun's rays were weaker and thus it was colder. The River emptied into the polar sea on the other side of the circular range where it gave up the heat remaining after thousands of kilometers of wandering through the arctic region. The contact of cold air with warm waters caused the fog reported by Joe Miller. Even so, the air was relatively colder man that outside the mountains. The high-pressure cold air inside the ring of mountains would flow outward. Joe had described the wind that howled through the passes.
She wanted desperately to ask Firebrass to replace Cyrano with her. Or with Anna or Barry Thorn, the only other persons with much experience. Both were, objectively considered, as good as she. But she wanted to be in control. Only then would she feel at ease. Or as much at ease as the situation allowed.
Firebrass might have been of the same opinion. If so, he was not going to act on it, just as she was not going to express it. An unwritten, in fact, unspoken, code prevented that. It was Cyrano's watch. To order him to give it up for a more qualified pilot would humiliate him. It would show a lack of confidence, make him seem to be less a "man."
Ridiculous. Abso
lutely ridiculous. The entire mission and one hundred lives were at stake.
Despite which, she would have said nothing even if she had thought she might be needed. Like the others, she was bound by the code. Never mind how anti-survival it was. She could not shame Cyrano. Besides, for her to suggest that he be replaced would shame her, too.
Now they were opposite the gap. It was not the V-shaped notch they had expected. It was a perfect circle cut into the mountain wall, a hole 3 kilometers across and 1000 meters above the base. From it sped clouds, driven by a wind which, if they could have heard it, would be "howling." Cyrano was forced to point the dirigible directly into the hole to keep it from being blown southward. Even so, with motors operating at top speed, the Parseval could advance into it at only 16 km/ph or less than 10 mph.
"What a wind!" Firebrass said. He hesitated. The air flowing down from the top of the mountain would add its force to that streaming through the hole. And the pilot would have to rely on radar to sense the nearness of the sides of the hole.
"If the mountains aren't any thicker than they are along The River," Firebrass said, "we can get through the hole faster than a dog through a hoop. However ..."
He bit down on his cigar, then said through clenched teeth, "Let's take her through the gates of hell!"
Chapter 46
* * *
Convergence of paths through chance fascinated peter Frigate.
Pure chance had brought his in potentio into essens.
His father was born and brought up in Terre Haute, Indiana; his mother, in Galena, Kansas. Not much chance for them to get together and beget Peter Jairus Frigate, right? Especially in 1918 when people did not travel much. But his grandfather, the handsome, affluent, gambling, womanizing, boozing William Frigate, was forced to take a business trip to Kansas City, Missouri. He thought his eldest son, James, should learn the details of handling his various interests throughout the Midwest. So he took the twenty-year-old along. Instead of driving in the new Packard, they took the train.
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