LaMotte appeared as Oskar was taking the dessert plates away. "Was everything satisfactory?" he asked, bowing and clasping his hands.
"Excellent, Antoine," said Zwingli.
"Extremely good." -Clitterhouse.
"I thought the soup was burned," Stone said.
"Burnt? The soup was burnt?" LaMotte's lip trembled. "I have never heard- The soup? Burnt?" He turned abruptly and walked out.
"That was not very nice, Mr. Stone," said Clitterhouse after a moment.
Zwingli said, "Now he will be making horrible messes for the next three days. We can always eat cheese and crackers."
After Zwingli and Clitterhouse had excused themselves, Captain Van Loon followed Stone into the bar. Stone, sitting at a table, had just made himself a highball.
"Look here," said Van Loon, "we have to be on this airship together for a long time. Will you drink with me like a man?"
Stone looked at him curiously. "Sure."
"Good." Van Loon went behind the bar and poured himself a Long John and soda. He sat down and raised the glass. "Prosit."
"Whatever," Stone said. "You're going to tell me you were just following orders when you laid your hands on me, right?"
"Yes, that's right. Do you want to fight me?"
"Okay. Put the ship down and we'll go outside."
"No, because I can't do that, and besides, I don't want to fight you."
"Then we'd better be friends, huh?"
"That is right!" Van Loon put out his hand and Stone shook it. "Good!" said Van Loon, and swallowed half his drink. "You are a fine fellow. I will call you Ed, and you must call me Hendrik."
"Okay, Hendrik. Listen, how come you're around all the time? When do you work, anyway?"
"I am the captain of this ship. The captain does not really have much to do. He does not stand watches, and even if he did, the ship steers herself. But after all, someone must keep order, and besides, it's a very fine thing to be the captain of an airship."
"It is, huh?"
"Yes, and this is the last airship, and so I am the last captain." A little depressed, Van Loon went behind the bar to refill his glass. "What are you drinking, Ed, this Carstairs?"
"Right."
"We have a lot of it. We have twenty cases of it." Van Loon brought the two bottles of spirits in one hand and the ginger ale and soda in the other, and set them down on the table. "Ed, may I ask you, are you married?"
"No."
"I am not either. It is hard for me to find a woman who doesn't think I am too big. They are afraid I will crash them."
Stone rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "You ought to have your own gas bag, so you wouldn't weigh anything."
"Ha, ha!" said Van Loon after a moment, seeing that it was a joke. "We'll drink to that!"
They drank. "Listen," Stone said, "when you go to the bathroom here, where does it go?"
"Where does the bathroom go?"
"No, hell, you know what I mean, where does the stuff go?"
"The stuff goes into a ballast tank."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"Ed, I will tell you. Do you know what ballast is?"
"No."
"Ed, you are my good friend. I am going to tell you what ballast is. That is weight that the airship carries to make it heavy. Do you understand? The gas makes the airship light, and the ballast makes it heavy. So if we want to make the airship heavier, we vent gas." He belched. "Excuse me. And if we want to make it lighter, we drop ballast."
"Including the stuff from the toilets?"
"Of course. Of course, why not?"
"But doesn't it fall on people's houses?"
Van Loon laughed immoderately. "Sometimes it does. Then they are surprised!"
"I need to drop some ballast," Stone said. He got up and left the table. Van Loon, who prided himself on his capacity, stayed where he was and had another drink. When Stone came back and sat down, Van Loon had just finished lighting a cigarette.
"This is something you couldn't do on the old zeppelins," he said, waving the match. "Theywere hydrogen, you know. Well, there was a special smoking room on the Graf Zeppelin, but do you know what they did? They had it under lower pressure, with an airlock to get in, so if there was a spark inside, it could not escape. And there was one cigarette lighter, attached by a chain to the table. And if you wanted a cigar lighted, a steward would light it for you with a match, but you could not have matches. And even so, those old zeppelins often went down in flames." Van Loon sniveled, then began to weep openly. "All those brave men burned up," he wailed.
Zwingli arose at six-thirty local time, as was his custom, drank some coffee, put on his bathing trunks and swam seven laps in the pool. He then changed into running shorts and shoes, and trotted ponderously seven times around the passage, timing himself with a special watch. The results were satisfactory. He entered the gymnasium, lifted weights for seven minutes, and had a hot shower, after which he lay on the table and was massaged by Nurse Clitterhouse. Then he dressed in his usual sports blouse and slacks, and went into the dining room in a good humor.
Captain Van Loon was at the buffet, helping himself to kippers and scrambled eggs. Zwingli greeted him and followed suit. They sat down at a table together, and Van Loon began to eat at once. Besides the kippers and eggs, he had a large fruit cup, a slice of melon, and several soft rolls.
"How are the eggs, Van Loon?" Zwingli inquired.
"The eggs are pretty poor, but the kippers are all right. After all, what can you do to kippers? The rolls, however, were not baked long enough." Van Loon ate his roll, nevertheless.
Zwingli tried the eggs; they were, indeed, poor. He thought they had probably been cooked in spoiled butter. "Well, we must make the best of it," he said. He concentrated on the kippers and drank coffee, which was excellent. Clitterhouse came in, having had her own shower, and brought a cheese blintz and a dish of cottage cheese to the table; but she gave up the blintz after one bite.
When they were almost finished, Stone came in looking sleepy. "Ah, Mr. Stone," said Zwingli. "Please help yourself andjoin us. The eggs are not reliable this morning, but the kippers are very good."
"Don't even think about the blintzes," said Clitterhouse. "I'm leaving." Van Loon, who had polished his plate with a roll, got up too, and they went out close in conversation.
Stone came to the table with two pieces of toast and a pot of marmalade. "Have you found everything you need in your stateroom, Mr. Stone?" Zwingli asked.
"Yeah. There's even a closet full of clothes."
"And do the clothes fit?"
"Yeah. You must of been planning this for quite a while."
"Well, we want you to be comfortable. Is there anything else we can get for you?"
"I wish I had my suitcase. There was a magazine in it that I like to keep around."
"Yes? What magazine is that?"
"Astounding Stories, May nineteen thirty-one."
"That must be a valuable magazine. Let me make a note." Zwingli took a memopad out of his pocket and wrote on it with a gold scriber. "It is an American magazine, I take it? Perhaps we can find you a copy."
"Okay. Well, how's business?"
"Business is quite good, Mr. Stone. Assets are still being traded very vigorously the whole world over. "
"Is that right?"
"Oh, yes. The value of everything has fallen to a fraction of what it was before, naturally, but there are still trillions of dollars involved. Everyone is trying to maximize his position, to have the best possible outcome. It is a big poker game, Mr. Stone, the biggest. The odds are constantly shifting, and that makes some people change their minds. And there are some who always intended to go into the Cube, but they want to make as much money as possible first."