The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

Jill, first hearing about this, had not known whether to believe that the man was truly Odysseus or not. There were so many impostors on the Riverworld. But there was one thing that made her think that he might actually be the historical Ithacan. Why should he say that Troy Vila, which even the archaeologists and Hellenists of her day had said was the true Ilion, was not the genuine site? Why would he claim that the historical Troy was some place else?

Whatever the reason, he was no longer around. He had disap­peared as mysteriously as he had appeared. Agents sent to track him down had failed. Firebrass had continued to search for him after Clemens left on the Mark Twain. One of the searchers, Jim Sorley, had finally found some trace of the Greek, though it showed only that he had not been murdered by John’s men.

Jill had wondered several times why Odysseus had volunteered to fight for Clemens’ side. Why would a stranger who had seemingly blundered onto the battle pick out one force and risk his life for it? What had he to gain, especially since it seemed that he had known none of the participants on either force? She had once asked Fire-brass about this, and he had said that he just did not know. Sam Clemens might be able to enlighten her, but he had never volun­teered a word on the subject.

Firebrass had added, “However, Odysseus may have been here for the same reason that Cyrano and I were. We wanted to get on the paddlewheeler so we could get to the polar sea.”

She thought it was strange that no one had thought of building a dirigible until shortly before the second riverboat was completed. Why take decades traveling to the arctic region on a surface vessel when an airship could get there in a few days?

Firebrass said, grinning, “Just one of those mysteries of life. Man, pardon me, humanity, sometimes can’t see the nose on his own face. Then somebody comes along and holds up a mirror to him.”

“If mankind had a nose like mine,” Cyrano said, “he would never have that trouble.”

In this case the person with the mirror had been August von Parseval. On Earth he had been a major in the German Army, and he had also designed airships for a German company. His type of dirigible was used by both the German and the British governments between 1906 and 1914.

Shortly before the Mark Twain was ready to leave Parolando, von Parseval had come along. He was amazed that no one had suggested that a Luftschiff would be a faster means of transportation than a boat.

After Firebrass bad mentally kicked himself for this oversight, he had hastened to Clemens, taking the German with him.

Surprisingly, Clemens said that he had long ago considered building a dirigible. After all, had he not written Tom Sawyer Abroad? Had not Tom, Jim, and Huckleberry traveled from Mis­souri to the Sahara in a balloon?

Amazed, Firebrass asked him why he had not mentioned this.

“Because I knew some all-fired fool would want to drop all the work on the boat faster than a burglar drops his tools when he sees a policeman! He’d want to abandon the Riverboat and put all work and materials into a flying machine!

“No, siree! This boat takes precedence over everything else, as Noah said when his Wife wanted to knock off work to go to a rain dance.

“By the blazing balls of the Bull of Bashan, there’ll be no dirigible! It’s a chancy thing, a dangerous device. Why, I wouldn’t even be allowed to smoke a cigar on it, and if I can’t do that, what’s the use of living?”

Clemens gave additional objections, most of them more serious. Firebrass, however, perceived that Clemens was not going to voice his main reason. Getting to the tower was not genuinely important to Clemens. It was the voyage itself that mattered to him. To build the greatest Riverboat that had ever been built, to be its captain, its lord, to voyage for millions of kilometers in the splendid vessel, to be admired and adored and wondered at by billions, that was what Sam Clemens desired.