by Eli Ingle
The sudden outburst made him feel better. Laurie on the other hand, appeared worse. “I would never make fun of you!” he said, looking genuinely shocked at the idea. “If what I said upset you then I’m really sorry. I really am! I can’t imagine what you’ve been through and it must be hard to come to terms with all of this but you’ve got to understand that we’re here to help.” He paused and frowned slightly. “It might sound as if we’re just bringing you trouble but we know you don’t really belong here. If it all works out, then life should be better for you. You’re the first we’ve actually got through to but from what our research has told us, you’re all the same. Alone, hungry, afraid. We’re coming to help you. Do you believe that?”
Rigel thought and realised he was speaking the truth. It was in his eyes.
“What others?” he asked despite himself.
“It’s not really my place to say,” said Laurie, appearing uncomfortable that he had revealed too much. “I’m sure they’ll tell you at the Institution.”
“That sounds sinister,” Rigel replied.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a fancy name … .”
“Oh.”
“Hmmm. Got everything?”
“I think so.” He lifted the albums and tape up as proof.
They walked out of the house. Rigel locked the door, and with a final nod, turned to walk back up to the field.
“What’s that?” asked Laurie, pointing to the tape and picking it up. He read the label. “Bernard Cribbins’ A Combination of Cribbins.” He flipped the case over. “What is this? A self-help cartridge?”
“No, it’s a tape. It has music on.”
“Really?” Laurie sounded unconvinced. “How does that work?”
“Don’t know.”
Laurie had opened the case and was examining it as if it were an interesting insect. Digging his finger in the top he pinched the line of tape and pulled. Streams of the shiny brown reel pulled out, quickly blowing into his face.
“What are you doing?” cried Rigel, yanking it back off him. “That’s my tape!”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s not very robust, is it, though?”
“What?”
“Well, we have cartridges at home. Virtually indestructible. Quite good sound reproduction too.”
“Sounds fascinating,” said Rigel. “You’ll have to show me one when we get there. Then I’ll get a hammer. Then I’ll smash it into little pieces and then we can compare notes about our music.”
“Alright. Alright. Who gave you the cranky medicine?”
“No-one. I’m just not pleased that you ruined my tape! I liked that, you know.”
“Okay, look, I’m sorry.”
“You better be.”
There was a pause.
“So tell me about this Institution,” Rigel asked, curiosity overcoming his annoyance.
“What about it?”
“Well, is it like school?”
“What’s school?” asked Laurie.
“You don’t know? Well … it’s a place where children go and they sit in big classes and get taught lessons by a teacher.”
“Really? That sounds awful!”
“I never liked it.”
“One person telling a room full of kids to learn what they tell them to? No, no, the Institution isn’t like that.”
“Oh good,” said Rigel. “Because if it had been like school I don’t think I would have gone.”
“If I’d had to go to school I don’t think I would have …” said Laurie.
They fell silent for the rest of the journey to the top of the hill.
Soon after, the airship came into view once more.
“Hey! It looks better!” exclaimed Rigel, running over.
“It does indeed,” said Laurie. “The mechanics are quite good at fixing things in a tight spot.”
The ship was no longer resting on its side at an angle; the landing gear had been fully extended on both sides, allowing it to rest straight. The hole in the balloon had been sewn up in a patchy manner, making it look as if it had been partially folded in on itself, but extra gas had been added, because it looked to be more inflated than before. The propellers on the engines had been replaced and the large hole in the side of the ship had been welded shut. Rigel had to admit that even in its partially broken state, the ship still looked magnificent.
“All set?” asked Laurie, glancing at Rigel.
He sighed, still unconvinced and unable to comprehend the situation, but otherwise unsure of what to say. “As I’ll ever be.”
Nodding, Laurie walked towards the ship, Rigel close behind.
A set of retractable metal steps had been pulled out from the side, underneath the door. Walking up these, they entered the ship.
Once they were inside they heard a clunk as the steps were pulled back again and a hiss as the door closed. Lights flickered into existence and the hum of the engines, barely audible before, rose to a higher pitch. Motioning for Rigel to follow, Laurie led him down the corridor and turned left before walking into the cockpit.
“Introductions, I think,” said Laurie. “Roll call! Let’s meet our new guest.”
The group lined up. There were four pilots and two mechanics. Laurie stood beside Rigel and walked him slowly along the line, introducing each person as they went.
“This is Quimby Willard,” said Laurie, pausing as Rigel shook the hand of the man. He was of medium height and had long hair that had been styled to look wind-swept. He was wearing a dark grey uniform with shiny black buttons.
“This is L’aroche,” continued Laurie, as Rigel shook the hand of the woman. She was wearing an emerald uniform covered in ornate braiding.
“Are you an admiral?” asked Rigel, looking at the inscription on her jacket.
L’aroche snorted. “No, I’m not an admiral.”
“Then why are you wearing an admiral’s uniform?”
“We had already … acquired the Persefoni and I decided it would be a shame if my outfit didn’t match,” L’aroche explained.
“With that kind of initiative, you might as well be an admiral,” laughed Quimby.
“The look on his face when we locked him in that cupboard was priceless,” agreed L’aroche. Quimby and L’aroche laughed together whilst Laurie rolled his eyes.
“This is Opal Warner,” said Laurie, indicating a woman in an azure uniform with silver buttons. Rigel shook her hand.
“This is Tink.”
“Hello.”
“Hello,” replied the mechanic, nodding. He was a small, moustached man wearing a maroon overcoat with diagonal black stripes along the length of it and dotted with brass buttons. Underneath he was wearing a red waistcoat covered in badges.
“And this is Spanner,” finished Laurie, pointing to the other mechanic. He was tall and incredibly thin. There seemed to be no muscle on him, just bone and skin stitched together. He was bald and covered in grease and wore a maroon uniform with brass buttons. Rigel shook his hand.
“Right, back to work,” declared Laurie, clapping his hands.
The group moved back to the control panel to resume work. L’aroche and Opal were pulling levers as they strove to make the ship airborne. Tink and Spanner were gathered round at the back, checking the pressure in the valves that ran along the back wall. Laurie had unrolled a map and was checking co-ordinates. Bells rattled and occasionally a siren would wail but nothing seemed to be happening.
“Why aren’t we going, Tink?” Laurie asked.
“We need to wait for all the boilers to get hot enough,” Tink replied. “We’re making sure the pressure and temperatures are all correct.”
Rigel stood, waiting for something to happen.
“Say,” said Laurie after another few uneventful minutes, “seeing as we’re having a little bit of trouble bringing everything up to temperature, how about I show you around while we’re waiting?”
“Okay.”
Walking through the cockpit door, they made their way back down the chandeliered corridor.
Opening a door on the left, Laurie led him in. “This is the ballroom.” It was a grand room with oil paintings on the roof and brass relief patterns surrounding it. The mahogany floor was waxed to a perfect shine and the crystal chandelier glittered charmingly, sending fragments of white light dancing across the floor.
Leading him to the next room without alluding to the strangeness of having a ballroom aboard an airship, Laurie took him to a room on the right.
“Dining hall.”
On the left.
“Bar.”
On the right.
“Drawing room.”
And so on. Finally they arrived at small cabins. Opening a door halfway down the corridor, he ushered Rigel inside.
“Bedroom. This is yours actually … I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure about the wallpaper but I’m sure we could redecorate if it’s a problem …?”
“No, no! Not at all!” Rigel said quickly. “I wasn’t expecting this at all. Anyway, you’ve seen my house now so to me this is like luxury. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome – I’m glad you like it. Now, there are some spare clothes in one of the storage compartments further along. I’ll go and get you some of those. There will be shopping trips and tailors for you once we get there so don’t worry if they don’t fit brilliantly. Dinner will be in an hour so maybe you might like to wash up before? There is a bathroom just across the hall. Oh yes! Can you see this little button here? Yes? Good. Just press that if you need anything and someone will come and get you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Shutting the door behind him, Laurie left. It was quiet for the first time in several hours.
Sitting down on his bed, Rigel looked around at the room. Brass lamps fixed to the wall on either side of the door, a soft maroon carpet, red and cream striped wall-paper, thick curtains around the porthole window, and a chest of draws opposite with a strange machine resting on top were the main features of the room. Walking over to the machine, he examined it more closely.
It was a black cube with a square hole in the front. Two mesh grills rested on top like speakers. Next to the machine was a rack with three rectangular boxes resting on it. Picking up the first one, he slotted it into the machine. With a soft whirr, it came to life.
“Stereophonic cartridge for the emergency protocol for evacuation of the Persefoni. In the event of a crash or shut down of engines during flight, passengers should remain calm. Leave all possessions behind and make your way to the nearest exit. Attendants will be on hand to … .”
The protocol went on for some time but Rigel did not listen to all of it. Ejecting the cartridge, he played the others but they were along a similar vein, the second dictating the procedure in case of fire and the third describing all the facilities on board. Removing the last cartridge, he sat down on the bed, still unsure what to make of the whole situation.
Before he could really analyse what was happening though, Laurie returned with a selection of clothing.
“Here we go!” he chirped, bustling in. “Pick your favourites!” He held up each coat hanger as he described what was on it. “A black overcoat, a brown overcoat, a blue overcoat, a bowler hat, a top hat, a brass helmet, brass goggles, silver goggles, a black waist coat, a red waistcoat, a purple waistcoat, a pair of trousers (black only), a pair of sturdy boots, a pair of dainty shoes, a pair of outrageous shoes or some knee-high leather boots … oh, don’t know how they got in there …”
“Er …” was just about all Rigel could manage.
“Er?” said Laurie, appearing disappointed. “I bring you all these and all you can manage is, ‘er’?!”
“Hey! It’s a lot to choose from! Give me a chance …”
“Alright, alright …”
“Okay,” Rigel said, finally decided. “Blue overcoat, red waistcoat, trousers and sturdy boots. Brass helmet with brass goggles.”
“Good choice,” commented Laurie as he handed each article over. “I’ll leave you to get changed.”
“No, hang on. I was going to have a bath or something first … if that’s okay?”
“Oh yes, of course. Over here.” Laurie led Rigel across the hall and opened the door onto the bathroom. It was a small room with a sturdy looking tub and a sink. Various bottles lined the wall and a mirror hung above a rack of towels. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. Bye.”
“See you later.”
Filling the bath, Rigel realised could not remember the last time he had access to free flowing hot water. Looking at the bottles on the wall, he read each label. They obviously contained something to put in the water but he had never heard of things such as Silk Water or Lemon Bloom. Picking the one that sounded most interesting (Fizz Bangers) he opened the lid and tipped half the bottle in.
As soon as the pellets hit the water they began fizzing. As they hit the bottom of the tub they exploded, sending a stream of fizzing pinkness foaming through the water. Very soon the whole bath appeared to be a boiling pink volcano that refused to abate. Slightly alarmed, Rigel consulted the label.
“Do not use more than one Fizz Banger at a time,” he groaned. Not wanting to point out his mistake by calling Laurie back and equally not wanting to send the exploding things down the drain, Rigel was unsure of what to do.
In the end he decided that, despite his apprehensions, he would just take the bath; it was his fault, after all, so he should be the one dealing with it.
Climbing in, he settled in the frothing water that was beginning to smell like strawberries.
At first the sensation was unpleasant; the exploding pellets would hit his leg, but then it started to settle a little and he found the bubbling sensation was not too bad. Soon the water had turned gritty and it felt as if the churning water was scrubbing him clean.
Indeed, when he clambered out of the bath he found his skin was fresh and pink … cleaner than it had ever been.
Pulling the plug, he sent the pink water down the drain before rinsing it with the detachable shower head.
Getting changed into his new outfit, Rigel looked down at his old clothes, not sure what to do with them. Looking at the wall he was surprised to see two chutes that he had not seen before: one marked Laundry, the other, more alarmingly, marked Furnace. Deciding that he might as well start this other life completely afresh, he opened the furnace shoot, hearing a roaring from within and a rush of heat as he did so, and threw the clothes in. Shutting the door, he left the bathroom and returned to his own room.
On the chest of drawers he found a note from Laurie and a tray of drinks. The note explained that they were still having trouble taking off and that Laurie had realised that they had not offered him anymore refreshment, so here was some.
Smiling slightly, Rigel peered at the selection of glass decanters, unsure of which one to choose. He picked up a seemingly empty bottle. It felt heavy. Tipping it into a glass, he cried out in surprise – the liquid had been invisible but when it hit the bottom it turned bright red and fizzed up, filling the glass like a chemical reaction. He sipped it and the fruity taste bubbled in his mouth.
After sitting for a while, Rigel realised that there had been a change in the engine’s pitch. It was increasing, and upon a sudden wobble that sent his drinks tray wobbling, he realised that they were leaving the ground.
A strange combination of excitement and nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He had never flown before and found that the sensation would take some getting used to. This was no Boeing 747, after all.
Deciding that he would rather be with friends when he experienced the flying, he slid open his door and walked to the cockpit.
Inside he found that the bustle of earlier on was nothing compared to the cacophony of the pilots and mechanics running around now, shouting and pulling levers. It took several minutes for Laurie to even notice that he was there.
Now they were finally airborn
e, Rigel noticed that L’aroche and Opal were moving away from the controls, out the door and down the corridor to other parts of the ship – presumably where they could attend to something else.
“Does it always take so much effort to set off?” asked Rigel, walking forwards.
“Hmm? No, oh no. It’s just that with the ship being in such a poor state of repair we needed all the hands we could get there to keep her stable; it’s fine now, we’ll only need two or three flying her. Ah!” he said, noticing the new clothes. “Now we’re talking. You look like you’re from around our parts now. Bath okay? Good. Excited to be finally going? What? You feel sick? Oh, you’ve never flown before. Okay, no problem. Hey, Tink! Can you give me some of that Fly-slick? Cheers.”
Tink threw him a small hip flask, which Laurie caught deftly. Unscrewing it, he handed it over to Rigel, who sniffed suspiciously at it.
“What is it?”
“Fly-slick? Oh, it stops you from feeling air sick … lasts forever too. You don’t feel it again after you’ve drunk it.”
“It’s not alcohol, is it? I’m not supposed to drink that …”
“No! It’s medicine.”
“Okay.”
Drinking some, he was surprised to find that it acted like a balm, soothing all the way down from his throat to his stomach where it bloomed like a warm flower, stopping the sickness at once.
“Better?”
“Oh yes. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Throwing the flask back to Tink, Laurie moved over to the controls again.
“So, probably wondering what we’re going to do?” he asked.
“Yes. How are we going to go through the sky?”
“That’s the clever bit. See this screen? That one tells us where there is a gap in the sky, a window if you like, and that one lets us move between where we are and where we want to go.”
“That doesn’t sound overly complicated,” said Rigel. “So why were you having so much trouble doing it the other day?”
