But the warhead of each rocket was the hopedfor key to the success they sought against their huge adversary.
The full explosive charge had been removed from each warhead, replaced with a smaller charge about which white phosphorous incendiary material had been packed. To add to the incendiary effect, the metal casing of the warhead was of magnesium. Both materials, white phosphorous and magnesium, would burn through fabric and metal with equal ease, and the magnesium particles, once ignited, would continue to burn even under water.
These were the keys with which Indy hoped his team in the Ford would unlock the security of the airship, opening up the huge structure like a hot knife slicing through soft butter.
It wouldn't be quite that simple. They would be fighting the cold, and the absolutelynomistakes procedures with their oxygen systems. Hopefully, they'd get a visual on the airship that was their prey.
There were so many unknowns! Indy had made certain to keep his serious reservations to himself. He'd listened enough times to the pilots to realize they were sailing into largely uncharted waters with the Ford Trimotor. At this altitude there simply was no way to know how the thickwinged machine would handle. Rarefied air brought on strange characteristics to aircraft. Despite the superb ability of Cromwell and Foulois, the three people in the cabin who would be fending off a possible attack from those superfast jetpowered discs had all the experience with machine guns that a dog might have riding a motorcycle.
Their one real advantage was that Indy, Gale, and Chino were all highly experienced at shooting and hunting. The basics wouldn't change. You always led your target with your aim to bring your bullet into a block of space at the same time your target got there.
Foulois had spent time with Indy on the matter of firing the machine guns.
"In the air, you have tremendous wind.
That affects your fire, no? Of course, yes. The path of your bullets is affected by the wind. They will curve away, flying with the wind. Even a machine gun can waste all its ammunition because of the wind. But you will have incendiary rounds, my friend. Every fourth round will be incendiary, so it will be a bright, bright glow in the air as the bullets fly away from you."
"I know," Indy said quietly.
"Aha! Perhaps you have experience with such matters?"
"Belgian Army. Africa, France," Indy said tightly. "Yes, some experience."
"Voila! Then I do not need to tell you to fire in short bursts." Foulois grasped an imaginary weapon and his arms shook as if he were feeling the recoil of a machine gun. "No firing like you are watering your lawn. No hosing away your ammunition, for it is limited. And even the Belgians knew not to fire too steadily for too long so they would not burn out the barrels of their weapons, no?"
"Yes."
"One more thing, my fine professor. Never forget your ammunition supply is limited. Once it is gone," Foulois shrugged, "it gets very quiet when you squeeze the trigger."
"My God, it's cold. . . . " Gale Parker shivered beneath her heavy flight garments. "It's already well below zero. . . .
How much worse can this get?"
Indy shrugged, a movement barely visible in his own heavy outfit. "Count on forty or fifty below zero. That's what Henshaw told me. That's why they used special lubricants on our equipment. Regular grease or oil becomes sludge."
Cromwell broke in through the intercom. "Move around back there, you three," he told them. "Keep moving as much as you can. Flex your toes in your boots. Beat your hands together. Do whatever you need to keep your blood flowing.
Now you know why the Eskimo has so
much blubber on his body. Miss Parker, don't you wish you were fat and blubbery?"
"If. . . if it would make me warmer," she said, shivering, "yes!"
Indy looked at Gale and Chino. "We're getting up there. We could find our friends at any moment now."
He glanced through a cabin window. "We're so high it already seems like we've almost left the world." He shook off the sudden introspection. "Let's check the weapons."
"Wait a moment." Indy turned. Chino continued, "Look, I've been checking the gun positions. You're working the single gun in the belly hatch, right?"
Indy nodded. "That was a lastminute decision. Henshaw's people installed a ball socket mount and crossbracing. If one of those discs comes up at us, or we're right over the airship, that position could be critical."
"I agree, Indy. But the flooring isn't the strongest. You figure my weight, or even yours. I've been pushing down on the flooring," Chino explained. "It yields.
And the cold is going to make things brittle. I suggest we put Gale in that position.
Secure her with webbing clips to the seat legs so that if anything goes wrong, she'll still be safe."
Indy accepted Chino's observations. Valid, realistic. "Anything else?"
"Yes, there is. You told me to use that open hatch just behind the cockpit.
The same ball socket system as we have with the belly gun. But, Indy, I think it would be better if you were closer to the cockpit. We could lose intercom or have some other problems and the pilots would be right next to you if they needed you. I can take the main position in the back, and—"
"If you ladies would like to interrupt your sewing bee for a moment,"
Cromwell's voice broke in, impatient with all the talking, "you're five minutes past your oxygen checks. Get with it, mates!"
Indy and Chino nodded to one another, went through their systems, exchanged nearempty bottles for full tanks, and did the same for Gale.
"Gentlemen, I thought you'd like to know we're at twentythree thousand,"
Cromwell said to them by intercom.
"And, blimey, it's already twenty below zero and going down."
Chino shook his head in mock disbelief. "If the old chiefs could see me now,"
he said in wonder. "The closer we get to the sun, the colder it gets. They would believe the world was mad."
They were near the end of lighthearted exchanges. It was too cold, and getting colder all the time as the Ford pounded upward, the three engines hammering out full power in the steady climb. Even the slightest flaw in the cabin that permitted an inflow of air was like a knife striking a body. The moment belied their senses.
The thunderstorms were now distant battlements, first red, then orange, and now blinding white as the sun rose higher. The sky directly above them was darkening strangely to a deeper and deeper purple, and the view all around them was of a steel blue sky, startlingly clear, extending to a horizon that seemed a thousand miles away.
They were shockingly alone, a tiny metal creature throbbing painfully upward.
Indy checked the forward machine gun for the fourth time, looking for parts that may have frozen solid. He turned to see Chino weaving on the cabin floor, legs spread apart, one hand gripping a seat back.
"Chino!" Indy called sharply.
"Uh, hear you. Who . . . what . . . world shaking . . . can see bright stars . .
." Chino's voice came over faltering and wavering.