The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

He had no sooner finished than he got a call from Thorn. Fire-brass listened for a minute, then said, “No, Barry, I have enough volunteers.”

Turning away from the phone, he said, “Thorn was very eager to be with me. He sounded unhappy when I turned him down. I didn’t know he was so fired up about this.”

Jill phoned the hangar section and told Szentes, its chief petty officer, to prepare the No. 1 helicopter for flight.

Firebrass shook hands with everyone in the control room except Jill. He gave her a long hug. She was not sure that she liked that. It seemed unofficerly, and it was also too much like a farewell em­brace. Did he have some doubts about being able to return? Or was she just projecting her own anxiety upon him?

Whatever the truth, she was having conflicting emotions. She resented his treating her differently from the others, yet she felt warmed because he was especially fond of her. It was a wonder that she did not have ulcers, she suffered so much and so frequently from opposing feelings. But then she had never heard of anybody having ulcers on this world. Mental and nervous tensions seemed to mani­fest themselves in psychic forms. Her hallucinations, for instance.

A moment later, she was no longer the exception. Cyrano had asked Piscator to take his post for a minute. Then he had risen and warmly embraced the captain while tears ran down his cheeks.

“My dear friend, you must not look so sad! There may be danger there, but do not fear! I, Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac, will be at your side!”

Firebrass released himself, patted the Frenchman on the shoul­der, and laughed, “Hey, I didn’t mean to make everybody think something will go wrong! I wasn’t saying goodbye, just so long! What the hell! Can’t I. . . ? Oh, well! No, Cyrano, you get back to your post.”

He smiled, his teeth very white in his dark face, and he waved at them. “So long!”

Anna Obrenova, looking very pensive, followed him. Metzing, looking very grim and Teutonic, walked out behind her.

Jill immediately gave orders that the ship be taken to the position Firebrass had commanded. The Parseval began to circle down­ward. When it had plunged into the fog, its searchlights were turned on. Though powerful, these could penetrate only 150 meters or somewhat less than 500 feet. The dirigible took its position, hover­ing in one place, its nose pointed into the wind, its speed exactly matching the force of the wind. Four tunnels of light were carved into the fog, but these showed nothing but dark-grey clouds. The tower was ahead and below, invisible, yet seeming to radiate a massive ominousness, extending feelers that gripped the ship.

No one spoke. Cyrano lit up a cigar. Piscator stood behind the radar operator and watched the sweeps on the scopes. The radio operator was intent on his dials, running the set through the frequen­cy spectrum. Jill wondered just what he hoped to pick up.

After what seemed an hour but was only fifteen minutes, Szentes called the captain pro tempore. The belly hatch was open, the chopper was wanned up, and take-off would be in one minute.

Szentes sounded strained.

“There’s a little problem, Ms. Gulbirra, which is why I called you before take-off. Thorn appeared, and he tried to argue the captain into taking him along. The captain told him to get back to his post.”

“Did he do that?”

“Yes, sir. The captain told me to call you to make sure. Mr. Thorn won’t have had time to get to the tail section yet, though, sir.”

“Very well, Szentes. I’ll take care of it.”

She switched off, and she swore softly. Here she was, com­mander for only fifteen minutes, and she was confronted with a disciplinary problem. What had gotten into Thorn?

There was only one thing to do. If she ignored Thorn’s behavior, she would lose control of the ship, the respect of the crew.

She phoned the auxiliary control room in the lower tail structure. Salomo Coppename, a Surinamese, the aft second mate, answered.

“Arrest Mr. Thorn. Have him conducted to his cabin by a guard detail, and make sure a guard is posted outside his cabin.”