Suddenly raising his head, Saint-Clair said:
“I admit that you can be replaced in the administration of the estate, but Monsieur d’Olbans special endeavor will not cease; you have been the technical director and the veritable lynch-pin of the work; there, Monsieur d’Olbans would miss you.”
“No, Monsieur, no!” Fageat retorted, visibly satisfied that Saint-Clair was raising such an objection instead of replying with a definitive refusal.
“Why not?”
In a tone that was almost light, the steward replied:
“You know the engineer Desclosi, whom I took on as an assistant when the work began. You’ve seen him at work and you praised him to me one day yourself—a eulogy more merited than you thought, Monsieur. Well, Desclosi can replace me in the factory and the workshops. I have, moreover, prepared him, in the hope...”
“That’s enough!” Saint-Clair interjected, swiftly.
He took a step forward, and offered his open hand, sincerely—which Ariste Fageat took in his own hard hand. There was a brief grip, and then, moving back slightly, Saint-Clair continued:
“I can admit to you now that I’ve often thought of taking you. I didn’t decide in the affirmative for the reasons that I spelled out just now in the meeting and which I’ve just repeated to you—and which you have refuted pertinently. But there’s one other thing...”
Again Saint-Clair moved back slightly, as if to get a better view of the man in his entirety, from his stout shoes to his short-cropped hair, and he went on gravely, almost severely:
“I don’t like you, Monsieur.”
The steward-engineer went white, started abruptly, and exclaimed:
“Oh! Monsieur!”
But the Nyctalope, not without an imperceptible smile of indulgent irony, continued:
“Monsieur Fageat, if I had not consented to work, throughout my life, with people who did not seem spontaneously sympathetic to me at first, I would not have done very much and I would have lived, I think, almost as an anachorite. In your case, moreover, it would be quite impossible for me to give you reasons for my antipathy in your regard: it’s muted and vague, indeterminate not amenable to complete analysis—and credit me with the justice that I have never shown you anything but benevolent courtesy, and that I have always rendered justice, in private as in public, to your real and evident merits...”
“That’s true, Monsieur,” said Fageat, dully, with a sort of confusion, lowering his head slightly.
Serious again, Saint-Clair continued:
“Perhaps there’s nothing between us but an opposition of physical nature, entirely material. The mind must overcome that, especially in such exceptional circumstances—for I have taken account in the last two months, and I admit it without hesitation, of the fact that you might indeed be extremely useful in the interplanetary voyage. I shall therefore take you, Monsieur… and I hope that the collaborator you will be will make me forget that there is something vague and inexplicable within me that, in the ordinary circumstances of existence, would have prevented me from being your friend.”
There was such grandeur in these words that Ariste Fageat, whatever his hidden agenda might be, could not help being moved by admiration and respect. Human beings are not as simple as certain philosophers claim, and Fageat was doubtless sincere in pronouncing, with his head held high, his gaze direct and his voice firm:
“Monsieur, with the full measure of my knowledge and strength, I swear to you that I will be the technical collaborator that you hope for in me.”
With a flash of intuition, Saint-Clair thought: Why did he add the word technical? Thus placed, the word seems to me to be restrictive.
But the Nyctalope had always enjoyed playing with obscurely dangerous men and the most indeterminate perils, sure as he was of his own capacity eventually to dissipate the darkness and emerging into the light victorious. He therefore concluded, simply:
“Let’s go back to the drawing room, Monsieur. I’ll announce myself that I’ve changed my opinion in your regard, and I’ll explain why.”
Half an hour later, finding himself alone with his friend in the room that Mademoiselle d’Olbans had prepared for the eminent Japanese, Gno Mitang said to Saint-Clair with the affectionate familiarity that they manifested in private:
“Leo, perhaps you’re right, in practical terms—you’re certainly right, for your judgment is infallible—to take Ariste Fageat on the Olb.-I, but I have the impression that the man needs to be closely watched.”
“I have that impression too,” said the Nyctsalope, simply. “But do you know why?”
“No; in truth, no...”
“Me neither.”
“Not yet, at least,” added Gno.
“Agreed!”
And the two friends smiled, glad to establish that in confrontation with people and facts, even in indefinite matters, they had, as they had always had had, the same sagacious, audacious and prudent conception of the manner in which they needed to act.
Chapter III
The Departure
With regard to the essence of the extraordinary endeavors suddenly undertaken and rapidly completed in the wildest and most isolated part of Maxime d’Olbans’ vast estate, secrecy had been carefully maintained.
To be sure, the regional newspapers had been actively curious; the Parisian press had been immediately alerted by its local correspondents, and had sent reporters—but the principal workshops had been strictly watched and the people who were party to the secret were not numerous. The journalists and the public, in consequence, new no more than the workers and manual laborers did. That could, in the final analysis, be summarized thus:
Monsieur d’Olbans is constructing a machine to venture into the stratosphere, as many scientists have done before him. He has an illustrious collaborator in the person of Monsieur Saint-Clair, a.k.a. the Nyctalope, who will be the pilot of the apparatus when it takes off from the ground toward the zenith.
The newspapers of France and the world, of course, wrote about it at much greater length, but they did not say any more than that.
Nevertheless, Messieurs d’Olbans and Saint-Clair had no intention of keeping the secret forever. On the contrary, they wanted the scientific community first, and then the general public, to be fully and accurately informed.
That is why, on August 27, 20 scientists and journalists, almost all resident in Paris, received by registered mail an invitation to go to the Château des Pins on August 29. Hospitality was assured until August 31. On the 29th, an “informative lecture” would be given to them by Monsieur d’Olbans; the bext day, they would witness “the departure of Monsieur Saint-Clair and others for an unprecedented voyage.” The letter of invitation gave no further details, but it contained all the necessary directions for the guests to get to the Château des Pins easily, without error or delay, via Le Mans and Longpré (Sarthe).
There was, therefore, an influx of guests at the château on the afternoon of August 29. All the friends who had attended the final council meeting on August 30 were there, of course. Madame Gervais, the housekeeper, had a great deal to do, all the more so because the domestic staff of the château had had to be augmented by the recruitment of two head waiters, four valets and four chambermaids, hired in Le Mans, Tours and even Paris. The Prefect of Le Mans had lent them his own cook.
Véronique, of course, had nothing to do with all that. On her uncle’s orders, she was resting, having nothing else to do except to pack, with the aid of her own chambermaid, the garments and other small objects that, in accordance with Saint-Clair’s advice, she would take to Rhea. It was light luggage, for the interplanetary voyagers could not clutter up the Olb.-I with their personal baggage.
Specially-designed and expertly-fabricated clothing, uniform although not all of the same height and girth, formed part of what Monsieur Fageat had loaded into the “vehicle” under the accounting denomination of “general provisions.” Included therein was enough to eat and drink for a long time; cloth
ing for the most various temperatures; gifts to offer as gestures of peace; and weapons in case of armed hostility. Saint-Clair had drawn up the list of al that, all of which had to be bought or manufactured to order, and the list had been the subject of much examination, calculation and discussion between the Nyctalope, Monsieur d’Olbans, Soca and Vitto.
The August 29 lecture filled the entire audience with admiring astonishment. Monsieur d’Olbans simply told the story of the discovery and fabrication of the new metal Z-4, performed a demonstration of the attraction of the planet Rhea upon that metal, listed the decisions made and the works accomplished, and, finally, gave a clear explanation of the logical hypotheses whose formulation science permitted regarding the possibilities of the interplanetary voyage and a sojourn on Rhea by human beings.
Hardly anyone at the château and in the workshops got any sleep on the night of August 29.
On the final day, the morning was devoted to visits by small groups to the interplanetary vehicle, the Olb.-I, and the admiring astonishment of all the visitors only increased. What commentaries! What doubts! What certainties! What apprehensions and hopes!
Finally, at 4 p.m.on August 30, it was the moment for farewells—intimate to begin with, between family and friends, in Monsieur d’Olbans; book-lined drawing room. Véronique, who was inwardly exultant with joy, had the strength to discipline her emotion, holding back the tears that sprang up in her eyes. The Nyctalope and the scientist embraced one another. On the part of His Excellency Gno Mitang the farewells were a trifle more ceremonious; Ariste Fageat’s were cordial; those of the exuberant Soca and Vitto warm, and even cheerful.
Afterwards, in the main courtyard of the château, the seven interplanetary voyagers—for, with Saint-Clair’s permission, the two Corsicans had recruited Jean Margot a highly-experienced, skillful, ingenious and a trifle mischievous young mechanic, also endowed with courage and a cool head, who had come from Paris when the work began and whose work all the bosses had been able to judge—shook hundreds of hands, responding with as many emotional smiles.
Then a kind of procession formed, which set off on that beautiful summer afternoon through the shady woods, toward the henceforth-famous Gorse Hill, where a huge crowd had assembled, kept in order and at an adequate distance by several brigades of gendarmes mobilized for that purpose by the prefect of Le Mans.
The Olb.-I was a parallelepiped 20 meters long by five broad, with double walls of aluminum. Its front, or anterior face, had a third lining made entirely of Z-4; 40 exterior panels formed of lead sheets wedged between two asbestos plates, movable electronically and also by means of a system of manual controls, covered that front and were able to uncover it in proportion to the quantity of attractive Rhean force that he interplanetary voyagers judged it appropriate to utilize.
The rear, or posterior face, was entirely given over to a projector of unprecedented power. As for the interior of the Olb.-I, between the foe and aft machine-rooms there was a living-space 15 meters in length, with four private cabins, crew-quarters with four bunks, a watch- and work-room that was also a dining-room, a kitchen-cum-parlor, and, finally, the indispensable commodities. From one end to the other, under a floor with six trap-doors, ran a succession of eight storage compartments, containing clothing, provisions, various tools, items of exchange, useful materials, weapons and ammunition: everything that seven human beings would need to live for a year, subject to rationing—on condition, of course, that Rhea furnished the liquid element: drinkable water. The astronomers had been unanimous in affirming that there were rainclouds in the atmospheric layer surrounding the newly-discovered planet.
Thus, even if the pessimistic hypothesis of the total absence on Rhea of matter comestible by humans were to be realized, the Terrans were certain of having sufficient nourishment until the date, scientifically calculated and determined, of their possible return to Earth.
It was at 5:30 p.m. on that August 30, that—all the farewells having been concluded, in the midst of immense general emotion—the interplanetary voyagers sealed themselves into the Olb.-I.
Véronique d’Olbans was the first to climb the mobile staircase; Gno Mitang followed her; then Vitto, Soca and Jean Margot, and finally Ariste Fageat and LeoSaint-Clair.
After a final salute with his right hand, the Nyctalope drew the double aluminum door toward him and the lock immediately sealed it hermetically. The mobile staircase folded up automatically and was enclosed underneath the doorway in the rectangular compartment designed to accommodate it.
Henceforth, the seven Terrans would be separated from the terrestrial world for at least a year.
For several days they had been so thoroughly prepared for that separation, and had lived that supreme moment in advance so often, that all the emotion of the farewells had died away in each of them at the moment when the passed from the last step into the vehicle that was about to transport them through the thousands of leagues of the stratosphere—which is to say, the empty space that separated the terrestrial atmosphere from the Rhean atmosphere.
In the vehicle, each of them had an allotted place for the departure: Véronique and Vitto in the kitchen and the watch- and work-room that was also the dining room; Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang in the forward machine-room, Soca being their assistant mechanic; Fageat and Margot in the compartmentalized store-rooms, whose trap-doors were open—for it was important to observe the comportment of everything, everywhere within the vehicle, for at least the first half-hour of the voyage—which, according to Maxime d’Olbans’ calculations, ought to have a duration of approximately five hundred hours at a mean velocity of 60 kilometers a minute.
The first word pronounced aboard the Olb.-I was uttered by Saint-Clair:
“Ready?”
He had his hand on the lever controlling the electrical mechanism of the obstructive panels. The lever turned through the graduated 40-degree arc of a circle; every degree corresponded to one of the 40 panels that covered, then would uncover and eventually recover the forward sections of the Olb.-I, each composed of a continuous surface of Z-4. The Nyctalope and the astronomer had calculated that, for the take-off of the heavy vehicle and its departure into space, it would be sufficient to open 20 of the 40 panels.
A short distance away from Saint-Clair, Gno Mitang was monitoring the control apparatus; the latter would reveal either the efficient operation of the various mechanisms activated or any possible perturbation. In reply to Saint-Clair’s query, the Japanese replied:
“Ready.”
It was a violently emotional moment! There was a silence, during which everyone was attentive. Hearts beat rapidly; faces were pale. On the threshold of the partition separating the machine-room from the central compartment, Véronique and Vitto were standing; in the cabin itself, Fageat and Margot were only showing the upper parts of their body, for they were half-hidden in the depths of the hold. As for Soca, the mechanic, he was standing two paces behind his two bosses, ready to leap into action in the event of receiving a necessarily-brief order that would have to be carried out instantly.
Suddenly, the Nyctalope said:
“We’re off.”
And his right hand rapidly pulled the lever, in such a way as to bring the odd-numbered obstructive panels—one to 39—into play.
There was no perceptible sound, and scarcely any shock, for the Olb.-I had been placed on a long 100-meter slipway, carefully greased, in such a way that no friction, however brutal it might be, could produce any. They could not see anything outside because, for the sake of prudence—no one knew what reaction might take place with matter in such novel conjectures—the portholes, numbering 20, that had been set at intervals along the vehicle, to the right and left, were closed.
Convinced that the departure had taken place, Saint-Clair said then:
“Going to maximum velocity.”
With the same gesture as before, he moved the lever, this time applying the heel to the electrical contacts bearing the even numbers, from two to 40.
>
While the seven voyagers remained silent and motionless, one, two, three and the four minutes went by, marked by the large chronometer visible from everywhere in the control-room.
Then, in his delicate and extraordinarily calm voice, Gno Mitang said, with a slight smile primarily perceptible in his eyes:
“If all’s going well, we’re 300 kilometers from Gorse Hill.”
“Yes,” said Saint-Clair. Turning to Soca, he added, with a slight smile: “Open the portholes.”
“On both sides?” the Corsican queried.
“Yes.”
Soca started on the right, unscrewing the locking system of the aluminum portholes; soon, six crystal lenses, three to the right and three to the left, were uncovered. Those lenses, immensely thick, could support enormous pressures and the most violent shocks.
Moved by the same impulse, Saint-Clair, Gno Mitang, Soca, Véronique, Vitto, Fageat and Margot ran to the portholes. Avidly, they looked outside. They saw nothing but darkness, peppered with stars; that was perfectly natural, for the terrestrial atmosphere in only 64 kilometers thick, and the Olb.-I had already emerged from it.
On the other hand, they had neither the sensation nor the impression of any movement; they could have believed—and it required an effort of thought not to believe it—that they were in a vehicle that was completely motionless; no movement betrayed its progress through space. The displacement, rapid as it was, could not produce any sensible effect on the organism while the mass of air in which the human body is located was displaced with it. No inhabitant of the Earth perceives the velocity of the globe, which is traveling through space, with its layer of air, at 90,000 kilometers an hour. Movement in those conditions still seems to be immobility.
The Return of the Nyctalope Page 5
