In the bright starlight, they saw what they had feared.
Men and women stood around on the ground, sleepily cheering. These had hauled out the big blimp on ropes. Now, their work done, they were watching the ship rise slowly. Suddenly, water ballast was discharged, drenching many of them. More swiftly now, the cigar shape rose, its nose turned up-River. Lights in the cabin, set below the long, triangular keel that ran beneath the vessel, blazed. They could see Podebrad's profile through a port.
Howling, cursing, they ran toward ate dirigible. But they knew they could do nothing to prevent its departure.
Farrington grabbed a spear leaning against the side of the hangar and threw it. It fell far short and almost hit a woman. He threw himself on the ground and beat the grass with his fists.
Mix jumped and yelled and shook his fists.
Nur shook his head.
Pogaas howled curses in his native language.
Frigate wept. Because of him, the others had wasted nine months. If only he had not nought of the blimp, they would be 50,000 kilometers or so farther along on their voyage.
The worst of it was that the Razzle Dazzle had been sold. Not for a song. For five hundred cigarettes and much booze and some personal favors.
Later, they sat gloomily around near a grailstone, waiting for it to erupt and fill their grails. The New Bohemians around them were a noisy crowd, discussing and cursing their late chief. The ex-crew of the Razzle Dazzle and the airship were silent. Finally, Martin Farrington said, "Well, we can always steal my ship back."
"That wouldn't be honest," Nur said.
"What do you mean, not honest? I wasn't thinking of just taking it without paying for it. We'd leave them just what they paid for it."
"They'd never agree to the deal," Tom said.
"What could they do about it?"
There was a flurry of activity, silencing them for a moment. A man had announced that the council had elected a new head of state. He was Podebrad's second-in-command, Karel Novak. There was some cheering, but most people felt too depressed to work up much emotion.
"Why do you suppose he shafted us?"Martinsaid. "We were as good blimp men as anybody else, and he promised us."
Frigate said, his voice near breaking, "The truth is, I wasn't as good a pilot as Hronov and Zeteny. Podebrad knew that if he rejected me, you'd all raise hell. So he just took off without us."
"The dirty sneak!" Tom said. "Naw. That isn't it. Besides, you're good enough."
"We'll never know,'' Martin said. "Say, do you think Podebrad could be an agent? And he somehow found out about us and so left us behind, our thumbs up our tocuses?"
"I doubt it," Nor said. "He could be one. Perhaps he originally intended to build a fast steamboat to get up The River. Then we came along and put a bee in his bonnet: the blimp. But we're the ones who got stung."
"If he was an agent, how'd he find out about us?"
Frigate raised his head. "That's it! Maybe one of the women we sloughed off overheard you two talking. You did get pretty loud when you were talking in your cabin sometimes. Maybe Eloise or Nadja heard you talking in your sleep. For revenge, they told Podebrad all, and he decided he didn't want us along."
"Neither one of them could keep their mouths shut about it," Tom said. "They'd have spilled the beans to us long ago."
"We'll never know," Martin said, shaking his head.
"Yeah?" Tom said. "Well, if I ever catch up with Podebrad, I'll break his neck."
Farrington said, "First, I'll break his legs."
"No, I want to build a six-story house,'' Frigate said. "With only one window in it, in the top story. Then we'll execute him by a method peculiarly Czech. Defenestration."
"What?" Tom said.
"Throw him out the window."
Nur said, "Fantasy revenge is a good method of relieving anger. It's better, however, not to feel the need for revenge. What we must do is to act, not blow off steam."
Frigate got swiftly to his feet. "I got an idea! Nur, will you take care of my grail for me? I'm going off to see Novak."
"You and your ideas!" Farrington shouted. "They've got us in enough trouble! Come back here!"
Frigate kept on walking.
57
Slowly, majestically, the Parseval moved above the chasm. Its nose was up, and its propellers were angled upward. The wind that ripped out of the hole dipped down when it hit the edge of the canyon top, and the dirigible had to keep from being gripped by the downdraft. Cyrano had to calculate the force exactly, keeping the airship at the same altitude, aimed at the center of the arch-shaped hole. A slight error could result in the great craft's being dashed down against the edge of the canyon and broken in two.
Jill thought that, if she were the captain, she would not have risked this entrance. It would be better to circle the mountain, to search for another gateway. However, that meant using much more fuel. Battling such strong winds, the motors could burn up so much that there would not be enough left to return to Parolando. Perhaps the ship could not even get to the Mark Twain.
Cyrano was sweating, but his eyes were bright and his expression eager. If he were scared, he did not look so. She had to admit to herself that he was, after all, the best one in this situation. His reflexes were the swiftest, and he would not freeze with panic. To him, this must be much like a duel with swords. The wind thrust; he parried; the wind riposted; he counterriposted.
Now they were in the thick clouds raging from the hole.
Suddenly, they were through.
Though still blinded by fog, they could read the radar-scopes. Before them was a sea, 1 kilometer below. Around it circled the mountain. And ahead, in the center of the sea, 48.5 kilometers away, a little over 30 miles, was an object which reared high above the water, though still dwarfed by the mountain.
Cyrano, looking at the CRT on the panel, said, "Behold the tower!"
The radarman, seated before his equipment on the port side, confirmed the sighting.
Firebrass ordered that the ship be taken to 3050 meters altitude, somewhat over 10,000 feet. The propellers could not be swiveled horizontally to lift the ship faster because it had to fight the wind.
However, as they rose, they found that the wind lessened. By the time the ship had reached the desired altitude, it could proceed straight ahead. Now its estimated ground speed was 80.50 km/ph, over 50 mph. As it neared the tower, it picked up more velocity. t
The sky was brighter than at dusk, lit by both the weak sun and the clustered stellar masses.
Now the radars could sweep the entire sea and touch the top of the most distant wall. The nearly circular body of water was 97 kilometers across or somewhat over 60 miles in diameter. The opposite wall was the same height as the nearer one.
"The tower!" Firebrass exploded. "It's 1.7 kilometers tall! And 16 kilometers wide!"
In old-style measurements, that would have been slightly over a mile high and almost 10 miles in diameter.
There was an interruption. The chief engineer, Hakkonen, reported that the hull was collecting ice. It was not, however, on the windscreens of the control room, since they were made of an ice-resistant plastic.
Firebrass said, "Take her down to 1530 meters, Cyrano. The air's warmer there."
The River, entering the sea, still carried much heat even after its passage through the arctic regions. In this deep, cold cup the waters surrendered warmth, so much that the temperature at 1524 meters or 5000 feet was 2 degrees above Centigrade. But higher up, the moisture-heavy air was an ice trap.