The Dark Design (51 page)

Until three years ago New Bohemia had been small, just one of the mingled Slavic-Gaulish peoples in this area.

“But its chief, a man named Ladislas Podebrad, launched a project about six years ago. He thought there might be mineral treasures, especially iron, buried deep under the soil. His people started digging at the base of the mountain, and they made an enormous and deep hole. They wore out much flint and bone. You know how tough the grass is.”

Frigate nodded. The grass seemed designed to resist erosion. Its roots were very deep and intertwined. In fact, he wasn’t sure that it was not one plant, a single organism extending on both sides of The River and perhaps beneath it. And its roots were tough silicon bearers.

“It took a long time to get below the grass, and when it was done, there was nothing but dirt beneath that. They kept on, and after going sixty meters, they came to rock. I believe it was limestone. They almost gave up then. But Podebrad, who’s something of a mystic, told them he’d had a dream that there were great quantities of iron below the rock.”

“Of course,” the woman said, “I can’t see you working like that.”

“You’re not so dedicated yourself.”

Frigate did not give them long to stay together, but he said nothing. He could be wrong. He’d known couples like this on Earth who had verbally stung and stabbed each other from marriage to death. For some sick reason, they needed each other.

Three years ago, Podebrad’s dream and the hard work of his people had paid off.

They had come across an immense store of minerals: iron ore, zinc sulfide, sand, coal, salt, lead, sulfur, and even some platinum and vanadium.

Frigate blinked and said, “You mean, in layers, strata? But they wouldn’t occur naturally in that fashion.”

“No,” Emil said. “At least, the man told Marie that they shouldn’t. What he said, and I’ve heard others from New Bohemia say this, too, it looked as if a gigantic truck had just dumped the ores there.

“Whoever made this world had pushed the stuff there, you know, as if by a gigantic bulldozer. Then the rock had been put over it, then the soil, then the grass.”

Podebrad had gotten the minerals out, was, in fact, still bringing them up. All his people were armed with steel weapons now. And New Bohemia had expanded from its 12-kilometer-long boundaries to 60 kilometers on both sides of The River.

However, this had not been done by conquest. Neighboring states had asked to be absorbed, and Podebrad had welcomed them. There was wealth enough for all.

Meanwhile, other states along here had launched their own digging projects. They had been at it about three years but had gained only sweat, worn-out tools, and disappointment.

Podebrad’s original site seemed to be the only one to contain minerals. Or else other dumpheaps—as Emil called them—were buried even deeper.

Emil pointed at the hills.

“Our own country has a hole sixty meters deep. But it’s being filled up now. The caprock is dolomite. Podebrad was lucky. His was soft limestone.”

Frigate thanked them and excitedly hurried off. As a result, the
Razzle Dazzle
anchored off the bank of Podebrad’s capital eleven days later.

The crew smelled New Bohemia half a day before arriving at its southern limits. The fumes of sulfur and coal stank throughout the area.

High earth walls had been erected along the banks. Steel weapons, including flintlock firearms, were everywhere. The River was patrolled by four large steam-powered paddle-wheeled boats, each carrying two cannons, and a large number of smaller boats with machine guns.

The crew of the
Razzle Dazzle
were astonished. Also, somewhat depressed. The fair valley was blighted. For too long, they had taken the clean air and pure blue skies, the green plains and hills, for granted.

Nur asked a local why it was necessary to foul the land and make all those weapons.

“We had to do so,” the man said. “If we hadn’t, then other states would have tried to take our ores away from us. And they would have embarked on conquest by arms. We made the weapons for self-defense.

“Of course, we make other artifacts, too. We trade these, and we get more tobacco, liquor, food, and ornaments than we can use.”

The man patted his fat paunch.

Nur smiled and said, “The grails provide enough for any person’s needs and some luxuries, too. Why tear up the land and make a stench to get far more than you need?”

“I just told you why.”

“It would have been best to have filled up the hole again,” Nur said. “Or never to have dug it in the first place.”

The man shrugged. Then, looking surprised, he walked up to Rider.

“Say, aren’t you the movie star Tom Mix?”

Tom smiled and said, “Not me,
amiko.
People have told me I look a little like him, though.”

“I saw you… him… when he came to Paris during his European tour. I was on a business trip then, and I stood in the crowds and cheered you… him… as he rode along on Tony. It was a great thrill for me. He was my favorite cowboy actor.”

“Mine, too,” Tom said, and he turned away.

Frigate called the captain and first mate to one side.

“You look excited, Pete,” Martin Farrington said. “You must be thinking of the same thing Tom and I were discussing just a minute ago.”

Frigate said, “Now, how could you do that? What is it?”

Martin looked sidewise at Tom and smiled. “Sure, what else could it be? We were talking about, just speculating, mind you, about how nice it would be if we had one of those small steamboats.”

Frigate was astonished. “That wasn’t what I was thinking of! What do you mean, you’d steal it?”

“Sort of,” Tom drawled. “They could always make another one. We were thinking of how much faster we could get upRiver on one of those handy-dandy paddle wheelers.”

“Aside from the ethics of the thing,” Frigate said, “it’d be dangerous. I assume they guard them at night.”

“Look who’s talking of ethics,” Martin said. “You stole your spear and bow and arrows, remember?”

“Not really. I had made them myself. They were mine.”

“It was stealing,” Martin said. He gave one of his wonderfully charming smiles and slapped Frigate on the shoulder. “No need to get huffy. Your need was greater than the state’s, and you took something that could be easily replaced. We’re in the same situation. We need to get upRiver a lot faster.”

“Not to mention a lot more comfortably,” Tom said.

“You want us to risk getting killed?”

“Would you volunteer? I wouldn’t order anybody to do this. If you don’t care to do it, you won’t peach on us, will you?”

“Of course not!” Frigate said, getting red in the face again. “I’m not objecting because I’m afraid! Listen, I’d do it, if it was necessary. But what I have in mind is not that. It’s something that would get us far north a hell of a lot faster than a steamboat.”

“You mean have this Podebrad build us a speedboat?” Martin said. “A steam yacht?”

“No, I don’t. I mean something that won’t go
up
The River. It’ll go
over
it!”

“Rub me for a saddlesore,” Tom said. “You mean an airplane?”

Tom looked eager. Martin turned pale.

“No, that wouldn’t work. I mean, a plane could get us a lot farther faster. But we’d have to land several times and make more fuel, and there’s no way of making more.

“No, I’m thinking about another type of air travel.”

“You can’t be thinking of a balloon?”

“Sure, why not? A balloon, or, better yet, a blimp.”

Tom Rider liked the idea.

Farrington said, “No! It’s too dangerous! I don’t trust those fragile gasbags. Besides, you’d have to use hydrogen, right? Hydrogen can catch fire like that!”

He snapped his fingers.

“In addition, they’re easy prey for strong winds and storms. Also, where are you going to dredge up a blimp pilot? Airplane pilots should be easy to find, though personally I’ve only run into two. Furthermore, we’d have to be its crew, and that means we’d have to be trained. What if we don’t have the knack for it? There’s another reason…”

“A yellow streak?” Tom said, smiling.

Martin reddened, and his hands balled. “How’d you like a few teeth knocked out?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Tom Rider said. “But take it easy, Frisco, I was just trying to think of more reasons why we can’t do it. Help you along, sort of.”

Frigate knew that Jack London had never taken any interest in flying. Yet a man who had lived so adventurously, who had always been pugnaciously courageous, and who was also very curious, should have been eager to go up in the newfangled machine.

Was it possible that he was afraid of the air?

It could be. Many a person who seemed to be afraid of nothing on earth was scared of leaving it. It was one of those quirks of human character, nothing to be ashamed of.

Nevertheless, Martin might be ashamed to show fear.

Frigate admitted to himself that he had some of that brand of shame. He had gotten rid of some, but there was too much residue left. He was not afraid to admit a fear if there was a rational reason to do so. To reveal fear if it had an irrational basis was still difficult for him.

Farrington’s reaction did have some logic. It could be dangerous, perhaps even foolish, to go in a blimp in the unavoidably uncertain conditions.

Nur and Pogaas were called in to hear Frigate’s new idea. Frigate proceeded to tell them what the perils might be.

“Nevertheless, considering the time saved, it’s more efficient, more economical, to go in a blimp. Actually, considering the time a blimp would take as against the time a boat would take, you’ll encounter many more dangers in a boat.”

“Damn it, I’m not afraid of danger! You know better than that! It’s just that…”

Martin’s voice trailed off.

Tom smiled.

Farrington said, “What are you grinning about? You look like a skunk eating shit!”

Pogaas grinned also.

“There’s no need to get all fired up about this just now,” Tom said. “First we have to find out what the Big Cheese, Podebrad, will do for us. More than likely, he won’t build us a gasbag. Why should he? But let’s mosey on up to his house and see what he has to say about this.”

Nur and Pogaas had more pressing business, so the captain, first mate, and deckhand walked toward a large limestone building pointed out to them by a passerby.

“You aren’t serious about stealing one of the steamboats?” Frigate said.

“That depends,” Tom said.

“Nur will never go along with that,” Frigate said. “Nor some of the others, either.”

“Then we might do without them,” Tom said.

They halted at Podebrad’s house, which stood on top of a hill, its peaked roof of bamboo almost touching the lower branches of a tall pine tree. The guards passed them on into a reception room. A secretary listened to them, then disappeared for a minute. Returning, he told them that Podebrad would see them just after lunch two days from now.

They decided to go fishing the rest of the day. Rider and Farrington caught a few striped “bass,” but they spent most of their time planning how to capture a steamboat.

Ladislas Podebrad was redheaded and of medium height, very broad and muscular, bull necked, thin lipped, massively chinned. Though he had formidable features and an icy demeanor, he permitted the meeting to last longer than the three had expected. It even went well, though not entirely as hoped for.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get to the North Pole? I have heard of this tower that is supposed to be in the middle of a sea behind impassable mountains. I do not know that I believe the story. But it seems possible. Perhaps, even probable.

“This world may have been fashioned originally by God. But it is evident that human beings, or something similar, have remade the surface of this planet. It is also evident to me, a scientist, that our resurrection is caused by physical means, by science, not by a supernatural agency.

“Why, I do not know. But the Church of the Second Chance has an explanation that sounds somewhat logical. Though they lack much data and even more certainty.

“In fact, the Church seems to me to know more than anyone else about this business, if I may put it that way.”

He drummed long, slim fingers on the table as they all fell silent. Frigate, watching them, thought how ill matched they were to his husky physique and broad, thick hands.

Podebrad rose and walked to a cabinet, opened it, and withdrew an object.

He held in his fingers a spiral bone taken from a hornfish.

“You all know what this is. The Chancers wear it as a symbol of their faith, though I wish they had more knowledge to back their faith. But if they had more knowledge, they wouldn’t need faith, would they? In this respect they’re like all other religions, Terrestrial or Riverworld.

“However, we do know that there is an afterlife.

“Or perhaps I should say, there
was
an afterlife. Now that people no longer are resurrected after death, we don’t know what to expect. Even the Church has no answer to the question of why translation has suddenly ceased. It speculates that, perhaps, people have been given enough time to save themselves, and there is no longer a reason to continue the resurrections.