The entire potential crew of the Parseval was under intense surveillance. Each had to undergo psychological tests for stability. Thorn passed both the observation and the tests as if he had made them up himself.
"Just because he's a little odd in his social life doesn't mean he isn't a first-class aeronaut," Firebrass said. "It's what a man does when he's aloft that counts."
Firebrass and de Bergerac proved to be natural dirigible pilots. This was not surprising in the American's case, since he had many thousands of hours in jetplanes, helicopters, and spacecraft. The Frenchman, however, came from a time when not even balloons had existed, though they had been envisioned. The most complicated mechanical device he had handled then were matchlock, wheel-lock, and flintlock pistols. He had been too poor to afford a watch, which, in any case, required the owner only to wind it.
Nevertheless, he quickly absorbed the instruction in ground school and aerial flight, nor did he have much trouble with the necessary mathematics.
Firebrass was very good, but de Bergerac was the best pilot of all. Jill reluctantly admitted that to herself. The Frenchman's reactions and judgment were almost computer-swift.
Another surprising candidate was John de Grey stock. This medieval baron had volunteered to be part of the crew that would man the semirigid Minerva when it attacked the Rex. Jill had been skeptical about his ability to adapt to aerial flight. But, after three months of flight, he was considered by both Firebrass and Gulbirra to be the best qualified to command the ship. He was combat wise, ruthless, and utterly courageous. And he hated King John. Having been wounded and thrown overboard by John's men when the Not For Hire was highjacked, he lusted for revenge.
Jill had come to Parolando near the end of the month called Dektria (Thirteenth in English). Parolando had adopted a thirteen-month calendar since this planet had neither season nor moon. There was no reason except sentiment to keep the year at 365 days, but sentiment was good enough. Each month was made of four seven-day weeks, twenty-eight days in all. Since twelve months only made 336 days, an extra month had been added. This left one day extra, which was generally termed New Year's Eve Day, Last Day, or Blow-Your-Top Day. Jill had landed three days before this in 31 a.r.d.
Now it was January of 33 a.r.d. , and though work on the big airship had started, it would be almost another year before it was ready for the polar flight. This was partly due to the inevitable unforseen difficulties and partly due to Firebrass' grandiose ideas. These had caused many revisions of the original plans.
As of now, the crew had been chosen, but the appointment of the officers had not been determined. As far as she was concerned, the list was fairly definite-except for the posts of first and second mate. One would go to Thorn and the other to herself. This had not caused her much anxiety-except in her dreams-since Thorn did not seem to care which position he got.
On this Wednesday of January or First-Month, she was happy. The work on the Parseval was going so well that she decided to quit early. She'd get her fishing pole and cast for some of the "chub" in the little lake near her hut. As she climbed the first of the hills, she saw Piscator. He was also carrying fishing tackle and a wickerwork basket.
She called to him, and he turned but did not give her his usual smile in greeting.
"You look as if you've got something on your mind," she said.
"I do, but it is not my problem, except that it concerns one whom I like to think is my friend."
"You don't have to tell me," she said.
"I think I do. It concerns you."
She stopped. "What's the matter?"
"I just learned from Firebrass that the psychological evaluation tests were not finished. There is one more to go, and every one of the flight crew will have to take it."
"Is that something I should worry about?"
He nodded. "The test involves deep hypnosis. It's designed to probe for any residue of instability which previous tests might have overlooked."
"Yes, but I..."
She paused again.
"I'm afraid that it might disclose these ... ah ... hallucinations that have disturbed you from time to time."
She felt faint. For a moment, the world around her seemed to dim. Piscator held her elbow and her arm to support her.
"I am sorry, but I thought it best that you be prepared."
She pulled away, saying, "I'm all right."
Then, "Godalmighty! I've had no trouble with those for eight months! I've had no dreamgum since that time you found me in the hut, and I'm sure that any residual effects are gone. Furthermore, I've never had those hallucinations except late at night when I was home. You don't really think that Firebrass would eliminate me, do you? He doesn't have enough reason to do so!"
"I don't know," Piscator said. "Perhaps the hypnosis might not uncover these attacks. In any event, if you will forgive me for trying to influence you, I think that you should go to Firebrass and tell him about your troubles. Do so before the tests are made."
"What good would that do?"
"If he finds out that you have been holding back on him, he probably would discharge you immediately. But if you are candid, confess before you get official word of the test, he might listen to your side of the case. I myself do not think that you are any danger to the welfare of the ship. But my opinion doesn't count."
"I won't beg!"
"That wouldn't influence him anyway-except negatively."
She breathed deeply and looked around, as if there might be an escape route to another world nearby. She had been so sure, so happy only a moment ago.
"Very well. There's no use putting it off."
"That's courageous," he said. "And commonsensical. I wish you luck."
"See you later," she said, and she strode off, her jaw set.
Nevertheless, by the time she had climbed the stairs to the second story, where Firebrass' apartment was, she was breathing hard, not from poor physical condition but from anxiety.
Firebrass' secretary had told her that he had gone to his suite. She was surprised at this but did not ask Agatha why he had quit work so early. Perhaps he, too, felt like relaxing.
The door to his apartment was halfway down the hall. Before it stood the bodyguard that usually accompanied him. Two assassination attempts in the last six months had made this necessary. The would-be killers had been slain themselves and thus could give no information.' No one knew for certain, but it was believed that a ruler of a hostile state down-River had sent the men. He had made no bones about his desire to get hold of Parolando's mineral wealth and rnarvelous machines and weapons. It was possible that he had hoped that, if he removed Firebrass, he might be able to invade Parolando. But this was all speculation by Firebrass.
Jill walked up to the ensign in command of four heavily armed men.
"I'd like to talk to the chief."
The ensign, Smithers said, "Sorry. He gave orders he wasn't to be disturbed."
"Why not?"
Smithers looked curiously at her. "I wouldn't know, sir."
Anger caused by her fear overcame her.
"I suppose he has a woman in there!"
The ensign said, "No, not that that is any of your business, sir."