He pulled her to him, kissing her snout. “Ser, come on... Old Cannak is a fool. Hykell, despite his position, is more enlightened than that. Just so long as I don’t try to proclaim my atheism to all and sundry, I’ll be allowed my freedom. You don’t think for a minute that they’d take the company from me? The city relies on Telsa Dirigibles for its prosperity.”
“You don’t think they’d be able to find someone else, just as young and ambitious, but religious, to run the company?”
He blinked. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?”
She stared down on him, stroking the fur of his cheek. “If you keep baiting Cannak, he’ll do his best when we return to bring you to your knees. Go easy on him, Ehrin. Ignore him rather than risk incurring his wrath, hm?”
He was silent for a long time after that, while Sereth napped on his chest and he stared up at the low ceiling, her dire prophecy overlaying his own dreams with images of gloating Elders and stark freezing frames.
He thought of Kahran, and what he and his father had discovered on the expedition to Sorny... Then the Church had done all in its power to silence the men, and certainly in Kahran’s case they had succeeded. A handful of mangled fingers, and much rancour, testified to the fact.
No wonder that now, face to face with Elder Cannak, and the reality of the authoritarian regime of Agstarn so far away as to seem of little threat, Kahran was bent on exacting his own small, perhaps futile, revenge on the representative of the High Church.
Perhaps he should take Sereth’s words seriously, and cease his criticism of Cannak and his beliefs?
Later they stirred themselves and climbed out of bed. The others were no longer in the lounge, having retired to their own cabins. Ehrin left Sereth with her notes, pulled on his padded jacket and ventured out onto the plain.
He found Kyrik beside the test bore, supervising the work of the dozen engineers and fellow geologists. They had erected a small cabin beside the rig, and the workers took it in turn to step out of the wind and warm themselves in the shelter with mugs of tea.
The noise from the drill, added to the howling wind, made conversation almost impossible. Kyrik clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the freighter, and the two men crossed the snow and entered the looming cavern of the dirigible’s hold.
“We’ve hit a seam of iron.” the geologist reported. “At this stage it’s hard to tell how extensive it is, but we’re hopeful. We’re going deeper, and the test should be in within the hour. If it’s high grade, and there’s enough of it, then the expedition’s exceeded all expectations.”
“Good news.” He shook Kyrik’s hand. “Let’s keep hoping...” he said by way of farewell.
“And praying, Ehrin. Let’s pray we bring glory to the Church in the eyes of God.”
Ehrin, wearing a fixed smile, nodded and feebly echoed the geologist’s sentiments. “Let’s hope so, Kyrik.”
He stepped out into the wind, watched the drilling for five minutes, then looked around—a great three-sixty degree sweep of the plain—-at the desolate and forbidding landscape. He thought of Agstarn, the heated mansions, the bountiful markets... and the repressive regime of the Church. Shuddering, he made his way back to the Expeditor.
That evening, as darkness fell across the land, they ate a meal of meat pastries and boiled vegetables in the lounge, the notable absence being Elder Cannak who elected to dine alone in his cabin. Ehrin for one was relieved. The continual presence of the prim, upright Elder—censorious to a degree—made Ehrin want to goad the man. In light of Sereth’s earlier warning, Ehrin had decided to think twice before confronting Cannak; even ignoring the man would be preferable to getting himself deeper into trouble.
The three ate well, the conversation helped along by a bottle of summer-fruit wine. Kahran, growing maudlin, told them of his childhood in the slum outskirts of Agstarn, and then his apprenticeship at the foundry, where he had soon formed a strong working partnership, then friendship, with his boss, Ehrin’s father.
“They were great days, Ehrin. The company was small, but ambitious. Together we designed and developed some of the airships that would become great—the Telsa 17b, the Arrow, which grew into what is now the Telsa cargo freighter. I don’t know, but it seemed that the Church left us alone back in the early days, didn’t interfere with what we did. Perhaps it was just that we were a small concern, but now that we’re big, well, the Church wants its grubby finger in the fat pie.”
Sereth said, “Were you never religious, even as a boy?”
Kahran smiled into his wine. “My father always said that religion for the poor was but another form of repression, while for the rich it was merely another means of wielding power.” He laughed.
“With a father like that, how could I have grown up pious?”
“It’s no wonder that you became fast friends with my father, Kahran.”
The old man tipped his glass, then dabbed a droplet of wine from his greying snout. “We were like this,” he said, meshing his fingers. “We made Telsa Dirigibles what it is today. Later,” and he laughed a little drunkenly here, “Agstarn became too small for us. We craved adventure. We conceived an expedition, west to the outpost of Sorny.” He stopped, then said, “I look back and wonder whether I regret venturing there. It made me what I am today, forged my view of the world... but the sacrifices...” He terminated his recollections by draining his glass and reaching for the bottle.
“More wine!” he cried. “Drink has charms to soothe the troubled spirit!”
Sereth smiled. “I’ve had enough for one day, Kahran.” She hesitated, and Ehrin saw that she was considering asking Kahran about Sorny, and he shook his head warningly.
Later, perhaps when they were back in Agstarn, he would ply Kahran with wine and try to learn the truth for himself.
A little later, a knock sounded at the hatch. Kyrik entered, apologising for the interruption, and reported good news. The lode they had discovered was huge—enough to supply the needs of Agstarn for at least five years, at a conservative estimate. The plan was to continue drilling through the night, to assess the true extent of the seam, and then discuss the situation in the morning. One body of opinion among the geologists was that they should return immediately to Agstarn so that the development of the site might be initiated as soon as possible.
Ehrin said that they should discuss the possibility at first light. When Kyrik departed, he said to Sereth, “So we might yet return to Agstarn in triumph.”
Sereth was about to reply when an explosion like thunder, but sharper, cracked above their heads. Sereth shrieked and grabbed his hand. Ehrin started, almost knocking over the table, while Kahran swore pithily and then excused himself to Sereth.
“The rig!” Ehrin cried, jumping up and grabbing his padded jacket.
Cannak emerged from his cabin, looking alarmed. “By all that’s holy, what was that?”
Ehrin rushed for the hatch, ignoring the Elder, while behind him Sereth explained that perhaps something had happened to the test bore.
With Kahran not far behind him, Ehrin left the Expeditor and hurried over to the rig. The geologists and engineers were gathered outside the cabin, staring at the darkening southern horizon. Ehrin looked to the rig, saw nothing amiss, then found Kyrik. “What the hell was that?”
In reply, Kyrik pointed.
High in the sky to the south, the deepening darkness of the overcast was bisected by a fiery line, which vectored towards the plain perhaps five miles away.
Kahran grasped Ehrin’s arm and hissed, “Your father had a theory—if any airborne vessels were to exceed the speed of sound, then they would create a... an acoustic explosion, I think he called it. Don’t you see!”
Ehrin felt a little dizzy, at once relieved that the rig was undamaged, but having to come to terms with what Kahran was telling him.
As he watched, whatever it was that had streaked through the heavens came to ground to the west; he awaited the resulting explosion, but none came.
/> The geologists, conversing among themselves, returned to work on the bore. Kahran was still gripping his elbow. “We can’t just stand here like stuffed zeer! We’ve got to go and investigate.”
His heart thumped. “What do you think it was?”
“Whatever it is, the bastard Cannak would proscribe our investigations.”
“We needn’t tell him.” Ehrin thought about it. “Kahran, we’ll take the freighter. Tell Kyrik what we’re doing—make some excuse along the lines that the Elder is sleeping so we can’t take theExpediter. I’ll go and tell Sereth.”
Kahran nodded and rushed off to find the geologist. Ehrin, excitement creating a delicious pressure in his chest, made his way back to the dirigible.
Sereth and Elder Cannak were in the lounge, and both looked up when he entered. “Well?” Cannak asked querulously.
“I don’t know what it was,” he said. “We’re taking the freighter up, to get a better look over the area. I suspect it was nothing more than a freak meteorological effect. We’ll probably find nothing.”
Cannak gave him a dubious look, as if he suspected Ehrin of concealing the truth. “Do you need an extra pair of hands?” the Elder asked.
“There’s no need. I’m taking Kahran.”
Sereth stood. “Take care, Ehrin.”
He managed a laugh. “There’s nothing to worry about. Brew some more tea. We’ll be in need of it when we get back.”
He kissed her, nodded towards the Elder and slipped from the lounge.
Kahran met him beside the double hatch of the freighter’s gondola. “I’m surprised Cannak didn’t try to stop you.”
“I said it was probably thunder, but that we’re taking the freighter up for a look.”
Kahran laughed. “All set?”
While Ehrin settled himself at the controls and started the engines, Kahran moved around the freighter pulling up the spikes. Five minutes later he joined Ehrin in the control room as the freighter rose, turned slowly, and moved off to the west.
Ehrin kept the dirigible low to the ground, the better to see... whatever was to be seen, wreckage or debris of some kind, perhaps. He looked across at Kahran. The old man was staring through the forward window, his watery eyes alert.
“If it were something... a craft... that flew faster than sound...” He shook his head. “We don’t have such technology, Kahran.”
The oldster nodded, not taking his eyes off the plain below. “It’s a big world, Ehrin. Agstarn does not comprise its extent. What lies over the horizon, and beyond even that?”
Ehrin stared at him. “Sorny,” he whispered.
Kahran grinned. “Try even further than Sorny, my boy.”
Before Ehrin could beg an explanation, Kahran cried out and pointed. Ehrin slowed the engines and peered through the window, heart hammering.
Down below, dark against the pale ice field, he made out a deep rut scored across the plain; it ran for perhaps two hundred yards, terminating in a wedge-shaped object half-buried in a frozen bow-wave of snow.
He felt dizzy, and a hot wave of nausea swept over him. He clutched at the controls to steady himself, then throttled down the engines and brought the freighter to hover over the crash-landed craft.
Craft... something manufactured, flown here for a reason, by people with a technological sophistication far in advance of anything in his wildest dreams.
The thought was at once terrifying and irresistibly alluring.
“Take the crate down,” Kahran said. “I’ll make it fast. Then...” He looked at Ehrin, reached out and gripped his hand. “Then we’ll go for a closer look.”
Ehrin nodded, something constricting his throat. He lowered the freighter, bringing it to rest on the plain fifty yards from the downed vessel. While Kahran hurried from the cabin and secured the hawsers, Ehrin settled the engines and stared out through the window.
Little could be seen of the craft from this angle, other than the piled snow it had pushed up with its precipitate landing. The superstructure that was visible glowed a dull gold in the dying light. Nothing moved, other than a curl of steam rising from its carapace.
Kahran appeared at the hatch. “Ready?”
Ehrin laughed nervously. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure. What if it... if they’re...” But Kahran was already moving away from the dirigible. Ehrin swallowed his fear and stepped from the cabin, pulling his hood up against the wind and following Kahran through the snow.
They paused a few yards from the craft, side-by-side, and stared.
The vehicle was small—a little larger perhaps than the gondola of theExpeditor, but far more streamlined and... alien. This close, Ehrin made out an array of six rear-mounted engines, their nacelles glowing red hot.
In the flank of the craft was a triangular window and—Ehrin found this alarming—there was a faint white light issuing from within.
He looked at Kahran. The old man wore a wide-eyed, shocked expression, the fur of his face standing upright with what might have been fear or alarm. Ehrin wondered if he himself looked as stricken.
Kahran took his arm. “Shall we take a closer look?”
Ehrin thought of Sereth, back at the dirigible, of the good citizens of Agstarn going about their daily business in complete ignorance of this momentous event...
He stepped forward, Kahran shuffling by his side, and approached the flank of the craft. Even above the keening of the wind he could hear his boots crunching the iced snow.
A yard from the triangular viewscreen, he could see what appeared to be black leather padding within, and small lights on what might have been an overhead console.
He felt his stomach clench as he stepped forward, aware of Kahran right beside him, and peered into the craft.
What he saw made him gasp and back away in fright, Kahran clutching his arm in alarm. Like schoolchildren they approached again, Ehrin’s curiosity overcoming his apprehension.
A being lay almost horizontally on some kind of padded couch; its head was twisted towards the viewscreen, but the being was either dead or unconscious. Its left leg was bent at an awkward angle, as if broken with the impact of landing.
It wore a silver one-piece suit, which was strange enough, but the oddest thing about the creature was its face. It was black and very wrinkled, its features scrunched, and totally without hair. It looked at once naked and fearsome without facial hair, vulnerable and yet paradoxically aggressive.
Kahran was staring in at the creature, his snout pressed against the glass.
“Is it dead?” Ehrin asked.
Kahran shook his head. “No. See, its chest is rising and falling. Just injured, I suspect.”
“We ought to be careful. If it regains consciousness and sees us, it might be hostile.”
Kahran smiled, more to himself than to Ehrin. “It isn’t hostile,” he said.
Ehrin looked at him. “How do you know that?”
Kahran ignored him; he was moving along the flank of the craft, searching for something. Ehrin followed, Kahran’s words, and now his actions, mystifying him. “Kahran?”
They came to the outline of a hatch, flush with the skin of the craft. Inset was a lever, which Kahran grasped and turned clockwise. There was a sudden hissing sound from within, and the rectangular hatch seemed to levitate from its housing. It sighed towards them quickly, swinging outwards and upwards, and revealed the interior of the craft.
Kahran stepped through first. Ehrin, panicked, said, “Do you think this is wise?”
Kahran turned to him. “Believe me, we have nothing to fear.”
Ehrin followed the old man into the alien ship, wondering what Elder Cannak might have to say if he could see them now.
A short corridor took them to the cramped control room where the creature lay, still unmoving. All was in darkness, the only illumination provided by the tiny sequencing lights on the various consoles that surrounded the being.
Kahran knelt beside the creature and felt for its pulse. He looked up and nodded. “
He’s alive.”
Ehrin could only stare. In the flesh, the creature seemed even more alien and ugly than when seen through the viewscreen. Also, it emanated a pungent body odour that Ehrin found unpleasant.
Kahran reached out and shook the creature’s arm, gently.
Ehrin found his voice. “You said it wouldn’t be hostile. How can you be certain?”
“They aren’t,” Kahran said.
“They?”
“They call themselves the Zorl,” he explained, casting his eye over the creature’s silver uniform. “They’re a peaceful race.”
Ehrin leaned against the wall of the control room, then found himself slipping onto his haunches. He shook his head. “How the hell...” he began, then stopped. “The expedition to Sorny,” he said with sudden realisation. “The Zorl are from the western plains, from Sorny?”
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