The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

“Perhaps he is an agent,” Nur said.

The others went numb at the thought.

“If he were, however,” Nur said, “wouldn’t he want to build a high-altitude zeppelin to get over the polar mountains?”

“I don’t think an airship could get that high,” Frigate said.

Whatever he was, Podebrad was efficient. Though be failed to find any airship pilots, he did have enough engineers to man a dozen vessels. And he decided that the pilots would train themselves.

Three crews were picked so that if any person dropped out for any reason, there would be enough replacements. If was during the ground training that Frigate, Nur, Farrington, Rider, and Pogaas began to have their doubts. None of them knew much about en­gines, which meant they’d have to be trained. Why should Podebrad use them when he had experienced engineers and mechanics?

He planned on a crew of only eight. But, true to his promise, the five from the Razzle Dazzle were assigned to the first crew. Podeb­rad went along on every trip, though ostensibly only as an observer. Frigate was nervous when he took his first flight, but his experi­ence as a balloonist helped him overcome his stage fright.

One after the other, the crews trained. Then the big, semirigid blimp took several shakedown flights of 600 kilometers roundtrip. It went over the four ranges of mountains, enabling them to see valleys they had never seen before though they were practically next door.

The night before the flight, the crews attended a big party given in their honor. The crew of the Razzle Dazzle, minus the women of the captain, first mate, and Frigate, were there. The women had gotten angry, understandably so, because they were being forsaken. Though they had already taken other lovers, they hadn’t forgiven their former cabinmates.

Nur bad-arrived at New Bohemia without a woman, so he had nothing to feel bad about.

Shortly before midnight, Podebrad sent everybody home. The ascent was to be made just before dawn, and the crew had to be’ up even earlier. Farrington’s party bedded down in a hut near the huge bamboo hangar, and, after some chatter, went to sleep. They had expected Podebrad to announce his resignation and departure at the party. But it was obvious now that he intended to wait until he was in the ship.

“Maybe he thought he’d be lynched,” Martin said.

Frigate was the last to fall asleep, or, at least, he supposed he was. Martin might be faking slumber. Though he had not shown any fear, he still did not like being aloft.

Frigate tossed and turned, too high strung to relax. Sleep always came hard before important events, just as it had the nights before he played football or ran in a track meet. Too often, the insomnia had resulted in fatigue the next day, and so he had not been up to his full potential. The very worry about not being good enough had ensured that he would not be.

Besides, having flown airplanes in the U.S. Army Air Corps when young and balloons in his middle age, he knew the dangers they could encounter.

He awoke from a light sleep to hear motors roaring, propellers spinning.

He rolled out of bed and opened the door and looked out. Though he could see only fog, he knew that there could be only one source of the noise.

It took a minute to rouse the others. Clad only in kilts and wearing long, thick towels over their backs, they dashed toward the hangar. Several times, they ran headlong into huts, and many times stum­bled. Finally, as they came up the slope of the plains, their heads were above the fog.

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.