"That was yesterday," he said simply. She understood and nodded.
"They took off in a small space-boat. I’ve thought about it since and I think there must be a launching ramp leading through the rock to somewhere outside the City. Those old bombs had be launched from somewhere."
"That sounds logical. You say he remarked that they didn't have enough fuel to make Luna. They may have made a transcontinental flight."
"Unlikely. You can't land even a small rocket without at least a few people observing it. I’ve got a feeling they're orbiting-maybe waiting for someone to pick them up."
"Or they may have gone to St. Rene's?"
"Why should they do that?" The Monastery of St. Rene Lafayette was the home of a group of monks who practiced a form of scientific mysticism. Little was known about the Order and it was thought that the monks were harmless. The monastery was, in fact, an abandoned space-station which the monks had taken over. The world had decided they were quaintly mad and had all but forgotten them.
"Well," Helen said, sipping her coffee, "it's just a connection that my mind made. I associated one 'crank' with a group of others, I suppose."
"Unless they were orbiting, it's the only place they could have gone," Alan agreed. "I wonder how we could find out."
"By going there, perhaps."
"We'd need a boat. We haven't got one."
"My brother has. A nice job-one of the latest Paolos."
"Would he let us take it?"
"We don't need to ask. I often use it. I have a pilot's license, the audiolocks respond to my voice, the ground staff at the port know me-we'd have a good chance of getting away with it."
"And going to our deaths, maybe. The Fireclown appears to be more ruthless than we thought, remember?"
"But are the monks? They are bound to give sanctuary to those they term 'unclears,' I believe."
"If s worth a try." He got up. "I'm going to have a bath. Is my green suit still here?"
"Yes."
"Good." He glanced at the chronom on the wall. "It's still early. If we leave now we could…" He turned to her. "Where is your brother's ship?"
"Hamburg-she's a sea-lander."
"A fast cab could get us there in an hour. You'd better get up and get ready."
He grinned at her as she sprang out of bed.
Hamburg Spaceport was surrounded by a pleasant garden-city with a population of less than two million. In contrast to the capital city of Switzerland, its buildings were single- or double-storied. Beyond the spaceport buildings water glinted in the summer sun, beneath a pale,and cloudless blue sky. As the cab spiralled down towards the landing roof a huge bulbous ship suddenly erupted from the waves, water boiling to steam as it lumbered upwards.
Helen pointed: "The Titan, bound for Mars and Ganymede, probably carrying one of the last seed consignments they need."
By the time the cab brought them down on the roof the ship had disappeared. From his lodge, the only building on the roof, an official in a brown velvet cutaway and baggy, cerise pantaloons came sauntering towards them. He was a firm-faced man with a smile.
"Good morning, Miss Curtis. Sorry to hear about yesterday," he said. "Many people's faith in the Fireclown seems to have been misplaced."
"Yes, indeed," said Helen, forcing a smile in response to his. "I’m planning to make a pleasure trip until the fuss dies down. Is the Solar Bird ready?"
"I expect so. She was being checked in the locks, I believe. She should be okay now. Do you want to go straight down?"
"Yes, please."
He took them into his lodge, a neat office with a big window overlooking the sea which was still heaving and steaming after the Titan's take-off. A small elevator cage was set in one wall. The man opened the gate for them, glancing at Alan in a speculative way. Alan returned his stare blandly and followed Helen into the elevator. It began to hiss downward.
A man in coveralls let them out, a plump red-faced man with a mechanic's badge on his sleeve.
"Good morning, Miss Helen. Nice to see you."
"Good morning, Freddie. This is Mr. Powys-Freddie Weinschenk."
They shook hands and Weinschenk led them along an artificially lit corridor.
Alan had never been in Hamburg before, but he knew the general design of a modern spaceport. They were now below ground level, he guessed, heading along a tunnel which led under the sea-bed.
Finally, Freddie ordered a door to open and they were in a dark, cool chamber with metal walls. From one wall, the back half of a small space-yacht projected, seeming, at first, to be stuck on the wall until Alan realized that the other half lay outside and that they were actually in a pressure chamber.
"Thanks, Freddie." Helen went up to the airlock and spoke, to it. It began to slide open; then slowly the four doors all opened and they went into the cramped cabin of the ship. Freddie shouted from outside:
"If you're leaving immediately, miss, I'll start the chamber up."
"Thanks, Freddie. See you when we get back."
Helen went to the control panel and touched a stud. The airlocks closed behind them. She switched on the exterior viewer so they could see the chamber. Freddie had left and Alan saw that the room was swiftly being flooded. Soon it was full and the wall surrounding the ship began to expand away from the ship itself and he saw the ramp extending outwards into open sea.
"We'll make a soft take-off," Helen said, strapping herself in the pilot's couch. Alan got into the other couch. "We don't want anyone to think we're in a hurry," she added.
"The softer the better," he smiled. "I’ve only been into space once and I didn't much care for the trip. She was an old chemical ship and I was certain she was going to break down every inch of the journey."
"You'll see a lot of difference in the Solar Bird." She activated the drive.
"It's unlikely they could improve a nuclear ship any further. They'll have to start thinking of some new type of engine now, I suppose, just as the old type starts getting familiar and comfortable."
The control panel was alive now, its instruments measuring and informing.
Alan felt a double pounding beat for a second or so, and then the ship was speeding up the ramp, leaving it, plunging up through water and then was in daylight, racing into the sky.
She switched on the chart-viewer, selected the area of space she wanted. It showed her the position of the space-station monastery and gave her all the information she needed.
"I hope your hunch is right," she said and turned round to see that Alan had blacked out.
There had been no reason for this at all, since the mounting pressure outside was completely countered by the ship's internal mechanisms. It was probably some kind of reflex, she decided.
"I'm a fool," he said when he was awake again. "Did anything happen, or was it just my imagination."
"Just imagination, I'm afraid. But you needed the sleep, anyway."
"Where are we?"
"In orbit. We should be getting pretty close to the station in a little while.
For the time being I’m going to pretend we're in trouble-that way we'll lull any suspicions the monks might have if they are harboring the Fireclown."
Soon the wheel of the big station came in sight, the sun bright on its metal.
There were two ships they could see hugged in its receiving bays, a big one and a little one. The big one was of unfamiliar design. They could see its title etched on its hull from where they were. Pi-meson.
"Funny name for a ship," Alan commented.
"The monks-if it is their ship-have got funny ideas." She reached out to press a red stud. "That's the May-day signal. With any luck they should get it."
In a moment their screen flickered and a face appeared on it-a thin man, lean-nosed and thin-lipped.
"Would it be impertinent to deduce that you are in trouble?" he said.
"It wouldn't be, no," Helen replied. "Can you help us?"