I look round at all the missile wreckage. The authorities don't usually let airplanes operate within the castle for fear of a crash weakening the structure, let alone missiles. You can't help wondering what sort of damage has been done up there by all this wrecked hardware.
So? I says.
We have a final vacuum balloon, the lammergeier says.
A what?
A vacuum balloon, it repeats. Technically, a very strong impermeable membrane enclosing a high vacuum and fitted with a harness.
A harness, I said.
And we have some high-altitude breathing equipment.
You have, have you? I says. (and am thinkin, oh-oh…)
Yes, master Bascule. We are asking you to take the balloon up as far as you can and then climb some way beyond the level the balloon attains.
Is that possible? How far up we talking?
It is certainly possible, though not without risk. The altitude is approximately 20 kilometres.
Has anybody else been up that high?
They have.
They get back down again?
Yes, the lammergeier says, stamping from side to side again and flapping its wings out a bit. Several missions have attained such heights in the past.
What am I supposed to do up there?
You will be given a package to take with you. All you have to do is deliver it.
Where? Who to?
You will see when you get there. I can't tell you any more.
If this is so urgent, how come you guys can't do it? I ask, looking round at the other birds.
One of our number tried, the head bird says. We believe he is dead. Another was about to mount a second attempt just before you appeared but we were not very hopeful of success. The problem is that we cannot fly to a half of the altitude required, and once the balloon will rise no more simply walking up steps appears to be the best means of gaining height. We are not built for walking. You are.
I think about all this.
It is a simple task in a sense, the head lammergeier says, but without it the asura's mission will surely fail. However, this is a dangerous undertaking. If you lack the courage to take it on then be sure that most humans would feel the same way. Probably the sensible thing to do is to turn it down. You are barely an adolescent, after all.
The head bird lowers his neck a little and looks round at his to nearest pals.
We ask too much, he says, sounding sorrowful. Come — and he starts to open his wings as if to fly away.
I swallow hard.
I'll do it, I says.
TRANSLATION — NINE — 4
Hoo-wee! I'm probably higher than anybody else in the whole wide world right now, excepting only the people in the fast-tower assuming there's anybody up there of course.
The balloon is a great enormous shadow above me. I'm hanging under it by what looks like a pair of threads from a wispy net of more threads what loop over the big sphere. The lammergeiers strapped these three oxygen tanks to my chest and gave me this light little package to put on my back. I've got another mask on now, too.
& a bottle of water.
& warmer clothes.
& a torch,
& a knife.
& a headache, though that's probably the least of my problems, but nevermind.
& I've got a parachute too, though that might have to go when I get a bit higher up.
The birds at the bottom of the shaft seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and I only got about 10 minutes of instruction on how to control the balloon while I was getting kitted out with the high-altitude clothing and stuff, but it boils down to using a couple of pairs of lines to pull hinged flaps like airbrakes which should steer me a bit, and (to control my speed of ascent) waiting for the balloon to slow down and then cutting off lengths of plastic tubing secured to the same threads holding me.
The lammergeiers brought the balloon out of a big shed in the cavern at the foot of the shaft; it ran on rails attached to the ceiling. The balloon is just a big sphere full of vacuum; it's as simple as that. It looks greyish and according to the birds is made of some sort of stuff similar to the fabric of the castle, so it must be pretty strong. The threads were already draped over the balloon.
What if it busts? I asked, joking really, but the head bird looked kind of awkward and said something about other models with lighter balloons inside them not being up to the job and if it was going to burst it would be low down probably and they would give me a parachute for lower altitudes.
Anyway, not to worry I said, kind of wishing I hadn't asked in the first place.
I got my flying lesson, they weighed me, then they gave me the various bits of stuff, strapped me in, pushed the balloon — with me hanging under it — along the rails out into the bottom of the shaft and along to just before where the rails ended. They attached the lengths of plastic tubing to the harness in front of me and that was us ready.
Good look, master Bascule, the head bird said. We wish you all the best.
Me too, I said, which might not have been very gracious, but at least it was true. Oh, and thanks for all your help, I said.
You are welcome, the head lammergeier said. It seemed to stiffen, then said, We'd better get on with it; things appear to be coming to a head. It went quiet for a moment, then seemed to nod to itself. I would advise you not to use the crypt for the moment, it told me.
Righty-ho, I said, and gave the thumbs up sign.
They pulled some levers and the rails above me swung up and open; the balloon took off with a whoosh of air, dragging me and the lengths of plastic tubing up with it. It was like falling upwards. Felt like my stomach was pulled down to my boots.
They either closed the doors to the covering alongside the bottom of the shaft or put the lights out, because it all went dark down there and I was left with just the dark greyness of the shaft walls. The slipstream wind tugged at my clothes.
The balloon seemed to go up pretty straight, though I pulled on the control lines connected to the hinged flaps just to make sure they worked.
Even with all that tubing and stuff we fairly shot up and I had to keep yawning to clear my ears. Some of the lammergeiers had flown up inside the shaft, and I waved to their shadowy shapes as I went past. The whole huge circle of the shaft bottom seemed to shrink like some closing shutter as me and the balloon whistled upwards; pretty soon the birds wheeling round inside the shaft had grown too small to see, and the bottom of the shaft was just a black circle getting slowly smaller.
I don't know how many minutes it took to get to where I needed oxygen, but it had got pretty bleeding cold by then, I can tell you. I was glad of the thermals and stuff they'd given me. My head was a bit sore by this time.
I turned on the first oxygen tank and took a breath. The balloon had slowed down a lot and I didn't want to use any more oxygen than I had too, so I cut a length of the tubing off; it was thick stuff like you'd make a drain or something out of and it fell away like a big stiff worm; the balloon picked up speed again and the thin air hissed past me.
The walls of the dark shaft were plain and boring, just lines and rails and occasional circular outlines that might have been doors but which were never open.
I'd let 5 of the 8 bits of plastic tubing go when I saw flashes down below, in the depths of the shaft. A bit later I heard some muffled bangs.
There were more brief flashes, and then I saw a little wavering spark of light what didn't fade; in fact the bugger seemed to be getting brighter and closer.
Oh fuck, I thought, and cut the strings holding the other three lengths of plastic tubing. The balloon whooshed up the shaft; the harness bit into my thighs and my arms were dragged down to my sides. The air roared distinctly around me and my headache got worse.