Chenda and the Airship Brofman (9 page)

Fenimore smiled at Chenda's
electric algae
reference as he continued. “It's a little more complicated than that. See, the research and the ideology go hand in hand. Kite's research subtly affected life in the West. Almost immediately, the availability of nearly unlimited energy led to a dramatic increase in electromechanical inventions. As labor saving devices abounded, new forms of art, architecture, literature and music grew. When Anthony Kite became the first Prime Minister of the Republic of Western States, his new and cultured society began to advance faster than the rest of the world.

“As the West became more interested in self reflection, science and art, contact with the less evolved continents fell away. This strained the already unstable regions of the East. The tribal societies there increased the warring amongst themselves, squabbling over their various resources. The Eastern Kingdoms fought with one another for almost 100 years until finally one society dominated the region: the Tugrulians. “You still with me?” he asked.

She nodded.

“When Kotal Varinian, the leader of Tugrulians, proclaimed himself Emperor, he cut off any visitors from the West. Any explorers or traders who attempted to make contact with the Empire were murdered on sight. Then the Emperor would have the bodies of the dead Kiters packed onto their own ships and set 'em adrift on the Kohlian Sea. People took the hint after a few years and quit going east.”

Fenimore stopped abruptly. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-two,” she said.”Why?”

“Well, about a dozen years before you were born,” he continued, “Prime Minister Mabe Idadell sent a scientific delegation across the sea to establish contact in the Empire. Idadell sent the envoy on one of the Republic's newest inventions, the airship. The flying vessel really captured the imagination of Emperor Varin IV. He began to crave the advanced technology from the Republic, and opened limited trade within the capitol city of Kotal to Kiter merchants.

“It soon became apparent that most Kiters and Tugrulians were never going to see eye to eye. We're just too different ideologically. However, there were a few Tugrulians that began to question the way the Emperor kept such a tight leash on his people, and there was talk of change in the Empire. The Emperor panicked and denounced the Kiters for theological reasons. He mobilized his massive army to slaughter every Citizen of Kite's Republic within the borders of the Tugrulian Empire. The Emperor, still craving the inventions of Kite's Republic, began to send spies and raiding parties across the sea.

“You know the rest of the story from there, I'm sure,” he concluded.

“The start of the war," Chenda said sadly. “I was just a baby then, so I can hardly recall.”

“Well, I remember it a little,” Fenimore reflected. “I was five when the first attacks came. The truce came just before I was old enough to join the R.A.S.”

“Can you tell me more about the Tugrulians, Lieutenant?”

“Sure I can, lots. But it will have to be at another time,” he said. The
Brofman
floated just a few yards out from the slip now, and Fenimore moved toward the glass doors and out onto the platform. 

“Call me Fenimore, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

Chenda followed him onto the platform and looked up at the deck of the
Brofman
where Captain Endicott rested one foot on the railing of his airship. He threw a mooring line to Fenimore, who quickly secured the airship to the pier.

Candice joined Chenda as the captain smiled broadly and waved. He glanced at Chenda and shouted down to her, “Well,
you've
had a rough day haven't you? I hardly recognize you.”

His eyes landed on Candice. “Hello, Professor. You two climb on up here and bring my money.”

Chapter 6

THE CREW OF THE AIRSHIP
BROFMAN

Fenimore Dulal took the bags from Chenda and Candice and tossed them onto the deck of the
Brofman
. He backed up two steps, made a running leap, and jumped off the pier. His hands caught the ship's railing, and he flipped himself onto the deck with apparent ease. Fenimore flipped a lever on the railing and a gangway unfolded from the airship and rested at Candice's feet.

“All aboard,” the captain said with more than a bit of pride in his voice.

Candice smiled broadly and went aboard with Chenda following close behind.

“Wonderful to see you again, captain, but let's talk again about when
my
money becomes your money, shall we?” The captain took her hand and, with a flourish, placed it on his elbow, leading her along the deck railing toward the wheelhouse.

As the jovial debate between the captain and the professor continued, Fenimore stepped to Chenda's side. He did not make the same overly dramatic gesture of whisking her away, arm in arm. He merely smiled at her, keeping his hands at his sides, and said, “We'll be heading out in a few minutes. Let me show you where you can settle in.” He led her to the very center of the deck and down a flight of narrow stairs. At the bottom was a corridor that ran the length of the ship. Fenimore waved his hand toward the bow of the ship. “You'll want to stick to this side of the stairs. The area aft is for cargo and the motor room. Nothing for you there.”

He moved forward, pointing to a narrow door on the left. “Captain's quarters,” he said, then turned to a matching door to his right. “Guest berth -- for the professor.” Fenimore opened the door and placed Candice's bag within; the space looked impossibly small. One tiny bed ran the length of the opposite wall. A tiny porthole above the bed let in some natural light that shined on the rest of the room's simple features: several brass hooks, a small sink basin with a drain, and a little table which folded down, hardly bigger than a shelf. The room definitely was only big enough for one occupant.

Fenimore closed the door and walked farther down the passageway to the next and last pair of openings. These, however, had no doors. Pointing to the left, Fenimore said, “The galley,” then the right, “and the crew quarters. You'll be bunking with the crew.” He stepped in with her bag. Chenda's eyes grew wide with surprise.

“Don't worry. The fellas don't bite,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, not usually.”

He looked sheepish for a moment. “I'm sorry if this seems a bit untoward, but we are generally pretty good guys, despite our line of work.  We get hired to do a lot of unusual jobs. Mostly, we deal with peculiar cargoes, and we all know how to be discreet. We are good at what we do, and on the rare occasions when we entertain passengers, we try our best to be hospitable.”  He looked into her much-abused face.  “Chen, you'll be safe among us.”

Chenda bowed her head, not knowing what to say.

“The captain hasn't told us much about where we will be taking you and the professor...” Fenimore left the thought hanging, looking hopeful that Chenda would fill in the rest.

She didn't.

Chenda looked around at the crew quarters. Eight bunks divided into two stacks covered the whole of the far wall. The inside wall of the cabin held eight lockers. Each door had a name neatly printed on it, save one. Chenda read them to herself:
Dulal, Verdu, Kingston, Germer, Stanley, Spencer
and
Lincoln.

She ran her fingers over the little door without a name. “Mine?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fenimore said as he put her bag down next to it. “And this bunk as well,” he said, tuning to point at the bottommost bunk farthest from the door. Chenda squatted down and examined the small space. The mattress was thin but clean, and she noted two small hooks hanging above the pillow, but there was nothing else to note in the coffin-sized berth. She was confident she could fit in that little slot of a bed, but wondered how a man as tall as Fenimore managed.

Standing again, she turned to him. “Looks great,” she lied.

Fenimore looked relieved that Chenda accepted her accommodations. Relaxing, he leaned on the post separating the two stacks of bunks.

“Let's see,” Fenimore contemplated as he ran his fingers through his sandy hair. “There are several things that you need to know. First of all, it's going to be cold once we shove off and gain some altitude, so you'll want to stay bundled up in your flight coat most of the time – we don't waste power on heat. You're welcome to move about the crew quarters as you like, and the galley, too, but you need an escort for any of the other areas below decks. If you step on the main deck, you will need to
bitter-end
; I'll explain that later.”

Fenimore stepped over to his own locker, pulled out a flight coat and shrugged it onto his broad shoulders.  He turned back to Chenda, saying, “You have to understand that we move pretty quick up here, and the crew has the right-of-way, so keep an eye out for them and stay out of the way. Understand?”

“For the most part,” Chenda replied.

A series of whistles drifted through the ship and Fenimore said, “Time for me to go on deck.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Want to come up as we shove off?”

“Do I ever!” Chenda said excitedly as she followed him back into the corridor and up the stairs.

When they reached the top, Chenda looked around and could see Candice standing beside the captain in the wheelhouse. She took a step toward her companion, but Fenimore grabbed Chenda by the elbow. “Not so fast,” he said, and he picked up a small metal box with a clip hook on each side. “This is a
bitter-end
," he said. “It's non-negotiable. You come up onto the deck, you put it on. No exceptions.”

 He took one of the clips in his large hand and pulled on it, revealing a thin cable.  He latched the hook into a stout loop in Chenda's flight coat, then pulled the metal box down and attached the other clip to a ring set into a track imbedded in the deck.

“The box has a spring in it; that keeps the slack out of the safety cable, which slides in this track. You can pretty much walk all over the deck. If someone wants to get past you on the track, one of you will have to pull your cable into a bypass – those are all along the track. Passing etiquette follows rank here: the lower man drifts. In your case, everyone else has the right of way, so you need to step to the side if someone is coming your way and be quick about it.”

He tapped on the bitter-end box. “This will keep you safe up here. You'll get used to it pretty quick.” Fenimore reached down and attached his own bitter-end to the track.

“I'm really not so clumsy as to just fall over the side,” Chenda remarked.

“It's not about clumsy up here,” Fenimore gave her a very serious stare. “Between the rolling air current caused by the speed of the ship, and the strong gusts of actual wind from the atmosphere, it's pretty unstable up here. I've seen men twice your size get blown off the deck in a sudden draft. That cable is the only thing that will save you from falling ten-thousand feet to your death.”

Looking over the side, Chenda said. “Ah, I see now why you call it the bitter-end.”  When she looked back up, Fenimore was gone.  She saw him amongst the other members of the crew who were taking in mooring lines and preparing the airship to depart. She watched as all the men leaped out of Fenimore's way as he walked near them. The crew moved around each other in an impressive dance. She could see the crew worked like a well-oiled machine.

Another series of highpitched whistles sounded, and the airship shuddered lightly as it began to move away from the airslip. Chenda held her breath. This was it. The point of no return. Panic crept through her as the ship inched forward.

She looked over the side of the
Brofman
and down into Coal City. She'd lived half her young life down there, just outside that bustling and cultured city, and in all that time, she hadn't ventured more than ten miles from there or from Edison.  Leaving the city felt like leaving her husband behind.  From this point on, everything would be different, a new experience. Chenda’s fears grabbed her and she clamped her teeth together to prevent the screaming in her head from coming out of her mouth. She found her hands were gripping the railing so tightly that they were numb, her feet locked to the boards on which she stood.

The
Brofman
moved faster, heading east. Chenda stood there, alone and afraid. No one was there to take care of her. No one could help her cope with her fears. Her knees began to shake, and Chenda started to fight against the quaking, but the struggle seemed only to rattle her bones all the more. As the
Brofman
advanced, the tears in Chenda's eyes spilled out onto her cheeks.  Each tear rolled out and was quickly blown away. The wind grabbed at her, pulling her arms, hair and chest.. She wrestled with the pain and fought to control it. The wind pulled at it, too, working against her, trying to drag it all up to the surface.

More tears. More pain. More wind.

When the struggle to contain it became too much, she gave up.  Chenda let the wind take what it wanted from her. In letting go of her baser emotions, she found a kernel of strength. Chenda pulled her hands free from the railing, and she leaned into the wind. More regret and anguish for Edison bubbled up, and then blew away. Chenda took a step forward. The airship moved faster. The wind grew stronger. She pulled up worry and dejection, and tossed them toward the greedy air. She took more steps into the gale.

She raced forward to the bow of the airship, her eyes flowing with tears for Edison. Every drop of her grief flew away as she gazed into the open sky ahead of her. She opened her mouth to wail, and the wind reached inside and stole the lament from her. The swirling air pulled at all of her senses then; she tasted it and smelled it until all other memories of scent and flavor left her. The wind bored into her ears, and it was as if no sound had ever been heard before its roar. Most keenly, she felt the constant brush and pressure of the wind on the exposed skin of her face and fingertips, cold and abrasive.  On some level, the beating she had taken from Daniel had been gentler.