The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper

by Larry E. Clarke

  "There she is" said Friend, sweeping his arm toward a large wooden vessel. "She's the Tchstotal, captained by Thark-qan, and as sturdy a vessel as you'll find between here and Darlendal".

  This latter reference (Darlendal) was a city often cited in folk lore. Supposedly located on the other side of the Great Salt its name was called on to designate any place far away, literally "at the end of the world".

  “It's name" Friend continued, referring to the vessel. . . "means a kind of meat pie wrapped in dough and boiled in broth. Thark-qan's particularly fond of them. His mother used to make them. He used to say that when he found another female who could cook them he'd marry her. . .and he did."

  So this was the vessel that would carry us far to west and south along the margins of the Great Salt. Our ship was named for some sort of dumpling the captain's mama had made for him. She certainly fit her name. The "Dumpling" was, as I thought of her, round and squat. She was made largely of wood though metal parts reinforced strategic points. She appeared to be about 40 meters in length and near 25 abeam. She sat docked (parked?) at a stone quay before a row of tall warehouses. Through these warehouse flowed the thousand types of trade goods which linked Cstlana with other towns lining the margins of the Great Salt.

  The warehouses sat on a flattened ribs of stone which poked out of a low hill above the town. Higher up the gray rock face was bare, too steep for building. Near the salt, however, it turned to run almost horizontally. Like a gray granite knife it scraped across the belly of the salt before slipping below.

  Workers moved with practiced efficiency from warehouse to ship. . .ship to warehouse along ramps and suspended walkways. The work of loading the cargo was nearing completion. Standing dockside, where the upper and lower loading ramps divided, was her skipper. What a man! If one can call a being with with a row of whale's baleen stretching like a cut throat from ear to ear a "man". And what ears! The external auditory equipment in question rose like the bells of trumpets from either side of head covered in knobby blue hide the texture of an old snow tire. Tharks-qan's pink gray baleen rippled and his bright grey eyes seemed to sparkle as he turned to lock digits in greeting with Friend.

  "Well, Friend. Truly, 'When the master is absent the squeelets hop where they please'.” Then glancing to where Dhars and I stood waiting he continued. “So these are the crewmen you promised me?"

  "That they are, Friend replies, "But, they are friends as well. I trust you will keep them from falling in the yesrtl (literally the "hole" or hold of the ship, ie. Keep us out of trouble")

  "May I present to you Dhars Flonstrad, lieutenant governor of Omos, and Petar Cooper, his associate. These are two of those I mentioned to you. They seek the second great machine of our ancestry somewhere across the great salt." In a quick aside he added "Some think them crazy, but I have found them to be able and determined. You will mutually benefit from your association. Perhaps governor Flonstrad will introduce the other member of his party" he said looking to Dhars.

  “I'm honored to be aboard the Tchstotal captain Thark-qan" Dhars began. He stepped forward and locked digits with the limb the captain had extended. "May I present Verek Dan Greeb our survey officer, and our supply master and cook, Soltan Greeb."

  After a round of well wishing and digit linking a crewmember was called to show where our gear might be stowed and where we were to bunk. Less than an hour later our party had settled in. Our gear had been stowed beneath our assigned bunks in the aft crew quarters. Dhars had supervised the unloading and stowing of additional equipment in the forward hold.

  "I'll speak with the captain about any special arrangements Lady Camilla may need" he called to me as he passed down the companion way"

  Six days ago Lady Camilla had decided--on her own initiative--to take him into her confidence. Poor Dhars had near jumped from his hide on hearing her "Thank you Dahrs" as he slipped the packsaddle from her back. I’ll guess that was exactly the effect she had hoped for given her penchant for a practical jokester’s humor. I'm sure she still clucked to herself each time she recalls it.

  When Dhars regained his composure she briefly, but completely filled him in on events since her arrival. She shared as well our reasons for allowing others to think she was no more than a "dumb beast". Despite his initial shock they were beginning to become fast friends. I'd even seen him scratching her behind the ears in the manner she liked so well.

  An hour later we prepared to get under way. All went below to move the Dumpling away from her berth and into position her for setting the hundreds of square meters of canvas.

  The process was relatively simple. Wooden treds like those on a tank were jacked down into position. Once locked in place crewmen stood atop a sort of treademill on either side of the vessel. The treadmill was linked by gears to the enormous treads beneath either side of the vessel. The gears provided enough mechanical advantage so that the muscles of the crewmembers were sufficient to slowly maneuver the huge vessel.

  On command each crewman leaned into a supporting beam and used his legs to force the treadmill round in the desired direction. At these slow speed the hull was supported by rollers sheathed in metal for protection from the abrasive salt. Once under sail curved skids/runners with less drag would be cranked down to replace them.

  By independently controlling of the speed and direction of the treads the Dumpling was surprisingly maneuverable . . .if incredibly slow. Steamy sweat from the bodies of the crewmen filled the hold before we were ordered aloft into the chill morning air.

  Sails were set, treads retracted and skids and/or metal rimmed rollers were lowered according to Tharks-qan's orders. The Dumpling gave a shake, groaned a bit and began to roll/slide across the salt. As we cleared the "harbor" and launched on to the high salt the Dumpling fairly sprang to life. Rigging and masts creaked, experienced crew scurried off to assigned tasks--or perhaps to some favorite corner of the ship in which to avoid being assigned a task. As new hands we were placed under the eye of Ativa, a smaller version or Tharks-qan whom I later learned was not only the second mate but also the skipper's wife. Mostly we were apprenticed to seasoned hands and called on to lend a hand hauling a line or securing cargo or doing other tasks for which little or no experience was required. I was assigned kitchen duty along with Soltan.

  My work seemed confined to scraping the skins from enormous piles of raw vegetables and keeping the cooking fires burning properly. I was surprised to see that they burned coal. I knew it was available in abundance in the region around Mon-Ton. Why not suppose there would be deposits on this side of the range too?

  One small benefit of my position was that I could work in the relative warmth of the kitchen. Here in the open desert we were exposed to the full force of the gales sweeping in unhindered across 1500 or more kilometers of salt. The nights were especially cold. The clear desert air and typically cloudless skies allowed the heat of the day to re-radiate quickly.

  The crew ate only two main meals. One was served in the predawn darkness. Barrels of steaming gruel were dished out along with large portions of boiled salt meat and cooked vegetables. At mid-day there was no assembling for mess. Instead, I made the rounds to every crewman carrying a portion of boiled meat tucked inside its own loaf of freshly baked bread. The diet quickly became monotonous but was initially rather tasty. Naturally the crew grumbled about the food but it was usually done good naturedly. Tharks-qan ran a disciplined but generally happy ship. I quickly became acquainted with each of the 33 crew as I served meals at dawn and dusk and brought their noon portion of "setona".

  Six days out we put in at another town south and west down the "coast" (that was how I naturally thought of the dividing line between salt and foothills). We took on water and coal along with additional cargo for the ports further south. As we would not sail until the morning Tharks-qan had given me permission to take Lady Camille ashore (supposedly to graze in the foothills). In fact she had been pestering me since we'd come aboard the Dumpling. Confined as she was in th
e hold, with scarcely room to turn round, she ached for something to do.

  "I'm going to build a device to allow one to hear and talk over long distances Petar." she had told me as we sat together one evening. The others had thought me eccentric if not downright odd for insisting on sleeping in the hold with my "animal" but aside from Leeta the Lady was my oldest friend on Pachem. She was a cracker-jack engineer, was literally stronger than an ox, and had a fiendish sense of humor. What more could one ask in a friend.

  "Petar, I must have a special piece of the black rock cook uses. Look for one with a stain of yellow in it. Also, we must find a way to buy the other things I need at our next port".

  So here we were in Ylerral, a sleazy harbor town that served as trading center for small mining and farming communities which were scattered from here to the timberline. Already we had been to the street of the metal workers where the Lady surreptitiously instructed me on buying about a hundred of meters of fine wire in what looked like silver. From there we went to the shop of the herbalists/chemists where I examined dozens of foul smelling and noxious concoctions until she was satisfied that she had the right ones.

  We also bought pounds of lead in the form of several small ingots. The shopkeeper noted that in the capitol such were in great demand because it was needed for their fancy indoor water systems.

  "What will you do with all this?" I asked as I cinched the straps on the basket pack she wore.

  "With the wire I will wind coils for circuits to determine the frequency of the signals for which I will listen. The thin plates of hammered metal--which you thought too expensive-- will also help with this. With other wire I will catch the signals from the air. With the fine piece of yellow coal, or with one of the other crystals I have devised a way to change the little lightning to waves of sound which will require also the use of the ore which points towards the poles of this planet. If I hear signals using this device which you call "radio" I will attempt to fashion a similar device with which to talk.

  CHAPTER 21

  That night Dhars, Verek, and I were called to the chart room where Thark-qa and Tharks-qan his mate/Mate were awaiting us.

  "Greetings friends of Friend" the captain said fluffling the baleen at his neck in the process. "I have news you will wish to hear". He cleared his throat, shifted his weight to the other appendage and continued. “Today on the docks I had news that in the last delft-van (18 days) three vessels sailing between Swez and Axtak have failed to reach port. The journey of but a half-van (6 days) even with unfavorable winds and rotten salt. Two vessels the "Mother or Misery" and the "Sunset" sailed from here within hours of each other last half-van. The "Wind Weasel" sailed from Axtak 8 days ago and has not made port. The worst of it is that captain Xmzltplx! of the "Sand Demon" anchored there ---here he stretched a flippered finger toward the larger vessel docked to port--- reports that he sailed 2 days after the "Weasel" and has seen no sign of her or her crew, or her cargo.

  He paused before continuing, and scanned one by one the faces before him. Satisfied that the seriousness of what he had relayed had been comprehended he went on.

  “A life on the salt is not without risks. One knows there are patches of rotten salt where a vessel can become hopelessly mired, there are the occasional thabor migrations to be avoided, all who have ever seen them fear the attack of the trapper beasts. . .or else mark themselves fools for not knowing when to fear. There are even the old legends that before the salt there was water upon which no skid could slide, no wheel roll and that before the end of time the water will fill the world again to the tops of the mountains. . . Still, none of these can explain how three ships and their crews of around 2 x 12 each could vanish with no trace. We must weigh carefully our course.”

  Because we were also paying passengers the captain had taken us into his confidence to allow the option of returning to Mon Ton via Sandrfro should we wish. Later, because he was a humane being, if not a human one, he would give his crew the same option. Without taking our leave of the captain Dhars, Verek, and I briefly reviewed our options. To return to Mon-Ton would certainly mean the end of the mission. To return to Sandrfro would serve no real purpose. We might as well remain here as do that. There was no way of knowing when travel might be deemed "safe" again. Our decision was that we would stay with the Dumpling and with her captain should he choose to continue south.

  The following morning all save one of the crew made the same decision. Thark-qan sent a party to the town to rouse a shopkeeper while the rest made preparations to sail.

  All was in readiness when the shore party return with two varder beasts heavily laden with leather and canvass bags. Even without the telling clink of metal to metal one knew that the crew was about to become extremely well armed. I too, used a free moment to go below and check the air rifle, blow gun, short sword and the still plentifull supply of the deadly quills I had remaining. Whatever came against the Dumpling would find a welcome that belied her tasty namesake. A bitter bite indeed awaited any who would swallow this Dumpling!

  We sailed at mid-morning catching a fair breeze from the northeast. Delivering the mid-day setona I was somewhat reassured to note that each crewman now carried a short sword in addition his customary sailor's knife. A bundle of pikes on shafts 4 or 5 meters long were stockpiled at strategic positions on upper and lower decks. Blaskne, one of the lookouts, and Rxtili his Thylixtiian partner were equipped with number of stones the size of small mellons which they could no doubt employ with devastating effect from their vantage point above the boom of the main mast. They also had a sort of crossbow at the ready but the cocking mechanism looked so awkward that I suspected that the stones would actually be the more lethal weapons.

  Near the prow the captain had assigned a second lookout to man an oversized bow mounted on a tripod astride the bowsprint. The bow itself was of several flexible pieces of steel stock each shorter than the one beneath it. A twisted wire fixed at each end of the bow was drawn by means of a windlass into a locked position in the trigger mechanism. The arrows were of tough wood with metal tips and "feathers" of what may have been tin. The rate of fire would probably be about 2 per minute. I paused to think of what sort of armor plated beast wouldn't respond to a shot from it . . .and then wished I hadn't. Thrak-qan had told in all seriousness of ships left little more than a pile of rubble and crews left no more than a pile of bones after falling into the silky snares of the Trapper-beasts.I approved of the captain's precautions and prayed they proved adequate.

  Two days out in the late afternoon, at the hour the landlubbers call "ghetra" (the hour of return from the fields) we spotted Princess Phiria. This unusual rock formation was visible for many kilometers. As we sailed nearer, running more or less down wind, I had to admit it did have the aspect of a torso frozen in stone. The legend was that the princess had asked the gods of the sea to remain frozen here on eternal vigil for her lover, a prince whose name was forgotten. She would await faithfully his return from the other side of the salt where he had been taken away by demons jealous of the lovers' happiness. It was a fitting tale for peoples who valued loyalty and who would rather do business with others than dominate them by force of arms.

  The sun was just touching the western horizon, spreading a rich rosy glow across salt and sky as we rounded the point. Sledat, the lookout atop the mainmast, had just called to his relief on deck that he was coming down when his voice rose again above the crunch and squeak of salt beneath the runners.

  "On Deck! vessles ahead to port. Alert the captain they're nothing these eyes have seen before".

  Many of the crew, already on edge from 2 days of extra watches and from the necessity of so many weapons at the ready, rushed to the port rail. I was in route to the kitchen from the vegetable locker when I'd heard Sledat's warning. There of the port side emerging to view from behind the point were a dozen or more light vessels. Each was white as the salt with sails to match.. Save for small pennants atop each mast they would have had no other color about them
. Each was rigged with a large tringular sail manipulated by two crewmen while the third operated the stearing gear. The whole fleet of these craft flew towards us at amazing speed running on three light duty wheels rather than skids. The craft were clearly meant for speed. The lumbering Dumpling would never out run them. Thark-qan stepped to the port rail. "Bread and salt" he began the traditional greeting. . . and received for reply a light javelin hurled by the occupant of the nearest craft. Oozing blood he reeled a moment and shouted orders to all crew to take up arms and defend the ship. Confusion was near total as each crewman acted according to what seemed best to him. There was no coordinated effort, no one to provide leadership. Three of the small craft seemed bound to cross our bow and cut us off while the rest split into two groups and attempted to draw up along each side the vessel.

  Though more javelins, and what may have been crossbow bolts, continued to strike here and there on the decks we had yet to "see" who/what it was we fought. Each craft had a light weight but effective shield mounted so as to protect them from fire according to which side of the vessel they were attacking. The attack had obviously been well planned. The crew within wore white robes and a helmet of some sort of hide with only a slit allowing the wearer to see out. My quills were more or less useless at this range against a target whose garments might cover armor as thick as the helmets they wore. Still, I fired a time or two when the shot was there.

  Dhars appeared beside me. "Good shot Petar. That demon is already returning to the hell from which he hath spung”. Only then did I see that one of the tillerman had slumped across the steering gear and that his craft and it's yellow pennon were veering towards a ridge of low rocks to landward. I didn’t have time to see if the remaining crew would recover in time to prevent a crash. Dhars touched my arm and gestured to the craft drawing near to the bow. Each carried a set of chocks tied together with stout rope. If they once moved into position to drop these in the path of the Dumpling she would come to a grinding halt. Dhars and I both ran forward. The crossbow crew had fired twice since the attack began. One bolt had been a clean miss, the other had pierced only the sail of a craft attacking our port side. It caused no real damage.