Kleon pushed the four levers to his left, and a longer row of gleaming spikes joined the first. We were pushed back onto our couches as the ship rose faster into the welcoming sky. The force of the backpush yanked my soul completely into my body and away from the realm of the gods. “Secondary impellers deployed.”
Kleon sang a hymn of praise to Pythagoras and pushed the four long levers directly in front of him. Poles a quarter mile long emerged from the bow. Their fire-gold shafts glinted brighter than the ship, brighter than the sun. The sky became the rich yellow of mead, precious, glorious, intoxicating. The whine grew into a scream. “Primary impellers deployed.”
The air became as transparent as the crystal spheres themselves, and as the ship angled away from the earth I saw the heavens laid out before me in perfect clarity, the planets dancing in the eternal chorus laid down by the Prime Mover when the world was made. I blessed Ouranos, grandfather of the gods, and praised Zeus, lord of the sky.
The staid natural speed of Chandra’s Tear was multiplied a hundred times by the thinness of the air created by the Ares impellers, yanking us away from the earth in a swiftly climbing spiral.
“At last,” Aeson whispered. The air was pushed from my lungs and my back was slammed down into the couch as we rushed toward the celestial spheres. Day succeeded night succeeded day in cycles of five minutes as we whirled upward in a rising orbit toward the moon.
We flew like that for two breathless hours, until a glint appeared before us, turning rapidly into a transparent wall that filled the sky as we neared the unbreakable crystal sphere that held the moon in place.
“Retracting starboard impellers,” Kleon said as he pulled two levers from each group of impeller controls.
The right side of our bow lost its fiery glint and the air over it hazed up in a sudden return of density. We banked sharply, turning parallel to the equator of the sphere that held the moon in place. A mere thousand miles ahead of us, I could see the orb of Selene itself.
“Brace for catching orbit,” Kleon called. He retracted the primary and secondary impellers on both sides and redeployed the starboard tertiary impellers. We plowed into suddenly dense air and shed our excess speed. In a matter of seconds we had slowed down to a mere five times the natural orbital speed of the moon.
I sucked in air, grateful to be able to fill my lungs completely. “’Ermes, lord of messengers, protect us from such speed,” I prayed. Then I sat up and addressed the navigator. “Kleon, the crew won’t be able to tolerate that speed for long.”
Kleon smiled. “I know, Commander. That’s why I’ve scheduled only four hours of flight each day. Two blocks of two hours each.”
“Well done,” I said.
“But I think I might be able to do better,” he said.
Before he could elaborate on that remark, the scarred silver ball of the moon appeared in front of us.
“Brace for stop!” Kleon called as he retracted the tertiary impeller array, and slid us into the five-mile gap between the moon and the crystal sphere that gripped it with the unknown power of its natural motion. Kleon let Chandra’s Tear assume an orbit just behind the body from which it had been carved.
“Well done, Kleon,” I said as I unstrapped myself from the couch and stretched the muscles in my bruised back.
“Thank you, Commander,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about minimizing the actual flying time.”
“Very good,” I said.
Aeson and Yellow Hare extricated themselves from their couches and the three of us left Kleon behind to muse over his lyre and his calculations.
Signal fires were lit on the ship, and in response, the crates of supplies Kroisos had promised were already being ferried up from the carved-out caves of the moon base on dozens of sleds. The guards at the base of the navigation tower told us that Anaxamander was on his way to the reception area with two dozen guards to inspect the cargo; Aeson went to join him.
Yellow Hare insisted that I stay away from the sleds and the crate inspections. She wanted me to go to my cave, but some god, perhaps Selene herself, commanded me to go to the edge of the ship and forced me to look across at the cratered body of the moon.
When Yellow Hare and I reached the port-side railing I caught sight of a gleam of bronze sticking up from the lunar surface. Though I could not make out the details, I knew it had to be the two-hundred-foot-tall statue of Artemis that marked the exact spot where Kroisos and Miltiades had landed on the moon in the year of my birth.
The divinity touched my thoughts and pulled out a memory: my mother telling me that on the first full moon after my birth she had taken me to the courtyard of Ishtar’s temple and showed me to the moon; she had looked up and prayed to that flawless pearl for a good life for her son. She talked reverently of the unmarked beauty of that celestial gem.
Now I was looking down, not at the perfect pearl of my childhood, but at a pockmarked hunk of pumice. So many sleds and ships had been mined that the untouched maiden Selene who had greeted me with her silver light had been aged to the life-ravaged hag, ’Ekate. I wanted to look away but the god or goddess would not let me until Yellow Hare tapped me on the shoulder.
“Aias, what are you looking at?”
The deity left, giving me back my mind.
“A casualty of war,” I said to Yellow Hare.
“There have been many of those,” she said.
“I know, but this one can never be replaced. I wonder if we’ll have to carve up all the planets before the end.”
“Not if the Archons are right,” she said. “If Sunthief wins us the war, there will be no need for more celestial ships. The matter lies in your hands.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I said, grateful for the reminder that I had the power to change this.
The delivery and checking of supplies took five hours, after which we slipped through the gap in the crystal sphere and entered the translunar heavens. A large escort of ships and sleds saw us away from the moon, and a fusillade of message flares lit a beacon of farewell as we shot out beyond the first sphere of heaven toward the domain of the Prime Mover.
As we flew, the Sun passed behind Earth, darkening a broad cone of space with us in it. The outer planets gleamed in the sudden starlight. I made out bloodred Ares and purple Zeus, and caught a glimpse of sea-green Aphrodite far to starboard. But orange-brown ’Ermes, our next goal, was unseen, hidden like a thief behind the cover of Earth.
* * *
The next day, Aeson and I met in my office over a light breakfast of curried lamb; the last few days on Earth we had been fully consumed with making sure the ship was prepared for the journey. Now we had to settle certain matters related to the flight itself.
The first thing Aeson did was hand me a scroll. “Anaxamander’s report. He’s searched the ship from stem to stern and found no evidence of a spy.”
Neither of us knew then that Anaxamander had done no such thing. And here I must enter a plea for Aeson. My co-commander had little regard for his security chief either as a man or as an officer. But whenever Anaxamander had been given an order, he had carried it out meticulously. True, he often failed to exercise common sense in his obedience, but nevertheless he had never disobeyed before. Therefore, though Aeson blames himself for dereliction, I say on his behalf that he had no way of knowing what would come from believing Anaxamander.
But to return to the meeting. I read the report quickly, then tossed it onto my desk. “Aeson, I give you my word that Ramonojon is not the spy.”
“Aias,” he said, “your loyalty does you honor, but our first duty is to the League. We must see to the welfare of this ship.”
“Will you permit me to carry out my own search?” I said, knowing I would not be able to get more than that from him.
“Yes if you must. Now, may we turn to other matters?”
“Yes, of course, and thank you.”
First we checked Kleon’s timetable: one week to reach ’Ermes, another three weeks to Aphrodite, one mo
nth to go from there to the sun, and a further two months to return, dragging the sun fragment with us. Based on that, we spent an hour making up crew rosters, planning emergency drills, setting meal schedules, and so on. Eventually, we came to the last item: bolstering crew morale, sorely needed after the attempts on my life, the attack on the ship, Ramonojon’s imprisonment, and our sudden unexplained departure from Earth.
We decided to hold weekly games for the soldiers, weekly debates for the scholars, and biweekly plays for all the crew. After the meeting we had announcements posted in the barracks and the dormitories asking for actors and play suggestions. I cannot say how well these activities worked to improve morale, but they kept the crew busy in their off-duty hours, so that they had less time to worry.
I was not so fortunate. I wanted to devote myself to finding the spy, but it took me the next three days, half of our travel time to ’Ermes, to clear away my other duties and give me time to deal with the problem of Ramonojon. It would have been only two days, but Kleon kept interrupting me with suggestions for how to shave a few hours off our travel time. Some of his maneuvers I approved, others sounded too risky. I always gave quick, peremptory answers, not wanting to be caught up in the minutiae of celestial navigation. I should have noticed the fire in Kleon’s eyes as he declaimed the wonderful advantages of some minor course correction or other.
As it was, I did not realize that something was wrong with my chief navigator until just after lunch on the third day, when he burst unannounced into my office and narrowly avoided being killed by my bodyguard for not knocking.
“I’ve done it,” Kleon said, oblivious of Yellow Hare holstering her evac thrower. “I can cut two days off our journey to Aphrodite without increasing the time we spend at speed.”
I looked up from a maintenance report on the trolley. “That’s quite impressive,” I said. “How will you do it?”
“It’s so simple.” He was capering around the room like a child. “All we have to do is flip the ship on its side so Chandra’s Tear cuts a sharper corridor through the air.”
“Are you mad? We’ll all fall off the ship,” I said, stunned at having to remind him of basic terrestrial mechanics. “We’ll plummet toward the earth and turn into pasty smears when we strike one of the crystal spheres.”
He clapped his hands together in a strangely uncoordinated way that produced hollow thuds instead of sharp rapping sounds. “But if we strap everybody down!”
“What about the livestock? What about the water in the reservoir?”
He started to answer; no doubt he had thought of a way to handle that as well, but I cut him off.
“Kleon, stop!” I said. “We have settled the timetable. We do not need any more speed.”
“But we can cut down the time,” he said, ignoring my attempts at rationality.
“No, Kleon, we will not. I don’t want you working on this anymore.”
His face contorted into a Fury’s mask; he tried to leap across my desk to grab me, but Yellow Hare plucked him out of the air and secured his hands behind his back.
“I have to finish it.” His eyes burned with rage and his heavy, sobbing breath stank of choler.
I realized what had happened to him. “Yellow Hare, we have to take him to the hospital.”
My bodyguard dragged the navigator, screaming and cursing, down to the hospital caves where I told one of the orderly-slaves to summon Euripos.
“What’s wrong?” the old doctor asked when he emerged from the lying-in cave.
“Hyperclarity of Pneuma,” I said. “At least I think that’s what it is.”
“Really?” Euripos beckoned to the orderly. “Fetch me a bag of water-heavy air.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the slave said, and he darted down the tunnel to the dispensary. He was back a minute later with a large leather sack coated in wax.
“Let me go,” Kleon said, struggling to get out of Yellow Hare’s steel solid grip. “I have to do my calculations.”
Euripos held the bag up to the navigator’s mouth and forced him to inhale the contents.
Kleon sucked in the heavy air in harsh, ragged gasps. After a few breaths his eyes dulled and he fell limp in Yellow Hare’s arms.
“Captain, please, put him on the examining couch,” Euripos said motioning toward the oaken bed at the back of the room.
Yellow Hare did so, then walked back to me. “What happened to him? I’ve never heard of, what was it, Hyperclarity of Pneuma.”
“It’s the air,” I said. “It made his mind so clear that he could only concentrate on one thing. It became a mania to him, his every thought was focused on refining our course. But…”
“But what?”
I took a hesitant breath to clear my own mind. “But it’s a very rare condition, and the Celestial Navigator’s Guild checks its members to make sure they’re not susceptible before they let them fly ships. Kleon’s been tested repeatedly and always passed.”
Euripos came back from examining Kleon. “He’ll be well after a few hours’ rest and a dose of Sanguine Humour.”
“Can he still carry out his duties?” I asked. Without Kleon’s brilliant piloting, there was little chance of Sunthief succeeding. None of his juniors was able enough to fly the ship that close to the sun.
“He should be,” Euripos said, “but I’ll want to give him a heavy-air bag to breath from just in case. And there should be someone watching him at all times.”
“Poor Kleon. When the guild finds out they’ll never let him fly a celestial ship again.”
Yellow Hare turned to stare at the couch. “What are you thinking?” I asked.
“That too many things are going wrong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am wondering if the Middler weapon that made you sick could have induced this condition in your navigator.”
“If so,” I said, seizing the opportunity, “someone used it on Kleon recently. Whoever that is is the real spy.”
Yellow Hare slowly nodded. “How can we find out if the weapon could do that?” she asked.
“We can ask,” I said, and my heart was lifted. Captain Yellow Hare, my perfect Spartan bodyguard, was going to help me find the spy. “Come with me to the brig.”
The Middler doctor’s name was Zi Lan-Xo. He had been locked in his silver bright cell since he saved my life. He had been given food and water, but no one had spoken to him.
He looked up at me with sad eyes gleaming from many light-induced tears. His old face was crisscrossed with lines of worry and pain; he reminded me of friezes I had seen of those who suffer punishment in ’Ades for offending the gods.
“What do you with this poor prisoner want?” he asked in slow ’Ellenic.
“I have questions for the honorable doctor,” I responded in ’Unan. His eyes widened in astonishment; then he shut them against the glare.
Captain Yellow Hare tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me to the side of the cell. “You didn’t tell me you spoke Middler,” she whispered in Xeroki.
“Some Akademics learn it,” I said. “Those of us trying to understand the enemy’s science.”
“I thought the Akademe had no success understanding Middler technology.”
“True,” I said, “but we keep trying. No Athenian likes to admit he can’t comprehend something.”
I returned to Doctor Zi.
“What does my captor wish of this degraded prisoner?” he answered in rustic ’Unan.
I leaned against the cave wall and stroked my beard. The doctor’s gaze turned longingly toward the wavering shadow my body cast on the floor. I wondered how long he had been kept under the glare of the silver walls, away from the peace of darkness.
“The illness you cured me of,” I said. “The weapon that brought it on, could it make someone sick from the clarity of the air?”
“What do you mean?” He arched his eyebrows in bewilderment. “How can one be sick from pure air?”
I described Kleon’s illness.
“Then how do you account for it?”
“Your pilot is a madman; he must have been cursed by a spirit.”
“Ridiculous. Kleon is a devout Pythagorean; the spirits would never harm him. This is not a matter of divine action, but human assault.”
“If my honored captor says so…,” Doctor Zi replied, letting the sentence dangle.
I concluded that this discussion was a waste of time, so I started to turn around to leave. But Athena gripped me, forcing me to look back on the prisoner, who was staring desperately at the patch of darkness I was casting. She whispered that there was much to be gained from this man even if he knew nothing about Kleon’s illness.
“There is a spy aboard this ship,” I said. “What do you know about him?”
“What could this unworthy prisoner know? Dragged here from a prison camp to heal his estimable captor, and paid with imprisonment in this glowing stone monstrosity in which it is impossible to sleep.”
“Help me catch the spy and I will have blankets put up to cover the walls.”
“How could this worthless prisoner aid his captor?”
“I do not know,” I said. “But if you can I will get you the sleep you need.”
Let me say that I did not relish asking this old man to relinquish his honor. But both my duties to the state and to my friend required it of me.
The doctor stared at my shadow, then at the glowing wall. He had been down here for weeks surrounded by silver light. Doctor Zi was a tired, aged man who would never see his home again, and I was offering him a little comfort in his exile. Trembling, he bowed his head.
He spoke haltingly, almost crying as the words came out. “I have heard that a spy would have a…” Then he said something I did not understand.
“What does that word mean?”
“It is a contrivance for communicating over long distances.”
Celestial Matters Page 16