Chapter 4

The hot sun had risen well above the mountains. Early bussards had provided target practice for some of the young Black Guard. Schecter emerged from Rasida's billet and idly watched as the camp bustled with expectation. He saw Sian doing exercises by the common and strolled over.

"Have you anything in this camp resembling a portable bodyscan?" he asked.

"Not sure," she shrugged. "What for?"

"It might show what Sabre's concealing," he told her. "Knees, forearms - maybe even his knuckles."

"It's to be unarmed combat. If he conceals weapons he must forfeit."

"Forfeit? Of course. And if he forfeits, Goldsmith must pack up and leave," he snapped his fingers. "I wonder if he understands that? I wonder whether Sabre is capable of understanding the consequences?"

"Gina suggested we strip Sabre to his briefs. That way..."

"Yes, it would help but a sub dermal is just that - beneath the skin. It wouldn't be obvious unless he deploys. I thought with a bodyscan, at least you know where they are."

"Why would anyone do that to themselves? Y'know, have blades implanted in their body?"

"I guess it all comes down to money. Anything which makes you better than the next guy gets you the job. That's what Inkubis is all about. Creating soldiers that command a high price. Remember, Inkubis take a percentage."

"It's just such a foreign way of thinking," Sian replied. "Anycase, we don't really use money. Some say Ibericans are starting to use something called the Arkmark - for when what you trade is not immediately available. It's a promise to pay later."

"Money only ever was supposed to be a means to facilitate trade. I guess it's become the object, rather than the 'means' - at least in Euro."

"Yah. Gina said I ought to wear bra and briefs. She said that would put Sabre off. What do you think?"

"Dunno," he said, scratching his head. "I guess that would put most guys off, but, Sabre ... I don't think anything will interfere with his focus."

"I don't like the idea much either," Sian said.

An impromptu game of kickball began to develop amid shouting and laughter. Girls as well as the boys were wrestling, furiously lashing the ball with feet, hands and any other convenient part of the body. Gina ran past shouting and was immediately engulfed in the scrum.

"Are all Ark women so, ah, shy?" Schecter asked Sian, grinning ironically.

"Yah, pretty much," she grinned back.

At the same time, far out above the Great Waters, known to the Euros as the 'Okean' or 'Atlantik', the airship, 'Normandie' floated serenely over the blue water. The Normandie was one of the largest airships ever made, fully 6 kilometers long and containing a billion cubic metres of hydrogen gas. Inside the massive monocoque hull - made of poly kevlar - were 60 gas cells hermetically sealed. Surrounding the cells, in the free spaces, freon gas circulated, both to keep the cells cool and reduce the risk of fire.

The hull acted as one big photo electric cell to provide power to the 16 motors. The motors, themselves, were the latest design, known as 'radial induction motors, ' or 'RIMs.' RIM motors were grouped in fours in the ventral, starboard, port, and dorsal positions to assist in maneuvering the massive craft.

A platform was attached below the hull, integrated into the structure with poly kevlar pillars. Modules could be locked onto the platform depending on the requirements of the cargo. Astern, Armin de la Perriere had his habitat suite, consisting of a small apartment and a workshop. Outside, Armin had a garden, a promenade, and a heavier than air machine known as a 'Floeg.' The floeg was a RIM powered two seater with a rotary wing above and canard aerofoils for increased lift at speed.

'Captain' de la Perriere very rarely left left the Normandie. He was captain and crew - so automated was the ship that it only required one person to operate it. In fact, only Euro flight rules stipulated an airship above a certain size needed a crewman at all. The Normandie could fly itself quite happily with its triplicated systems to ensure safety.

De la Perriere had his routine, of course, as stipulated in the flight regulations. Each day, he was required to inspect all areas of the ship and, to ensure he actually did this, the Normandie had an iris check station at each point. Forward, there was a control room, but it was hardly ever manned. The CCC was only there in the unlikely event the ship had to be manually conned. For that task, de la Perriere was one of only some 1000 people in the whole of Euro capable of doing so. Otherwise, the Normandie's systems could be monitored or controlled on de la Perriere's flatscreen interface anywhere within a 20 kilometer range.

The Captain's duties, therefore, apart from monitoring the ship's computers, concerned the general order of the ship and its passengers and/or cargo. For this task, de la Perriere was also a fully trained diplomatist. At 42, he had long experience is finding solutions to problems, whether they were between passengers or faulty temperature controls on a cargo module. In short, he was also a fixit, goto man - and bored to death.

Seven years he'd been on the Normandie - since its maiden voyage - seven years of increasingly mind numbing routine. He considered himself fortunate, however, as many folks in the crowded plexes of Euro city would give their eye teeth to be in his position.

For one, the scenery constantly changed without the need for holographic technology. He was in charge and his word was law within the confines of the Normandie. Few in Euro could contemplate such power and responsibility. The company who owned the ship, Luftshiffbau Zeppelin GmbH, organised passengers and cargo, of course, but otherwise, he was the boss.

This voyage was primarily a passenger one, plus their personal freight. They were colonists looking to start a new life in the empty, and barren, land of the West. The passengers were far from destitute, however, as they had to come up with sufficient credits to finance themselves - and voyages on the Normandie didn't come cheap. These colonists were Euro gentry, scions of well to do families, and rich businessmen bored with their own overpopulated, cluttered and artificial world.

Armin de la Perriere had made many trips to the West and had viewed for himself the extensive, leeched, red soil stretching for kilometres under a baking hot sun. He didn't particularly envy these people and the task they had in front of them. Although they'd all done environmental training, few, he thought, had any idea what they were up against in their new land. Even with their enviro-habitats, neatly packed into containers on the Normandie's deck, de la Perriere had no doubt they were in for a shock.

He strolled out for his daily routine. To get around the ship would take the best part of half a day. He watched the sunrise from the side rail for a bit before continuing forward. Below, the sea had faint crests indicating a good following wind. It seemed this was likely going to be another uneventful, computer controlled voyage with the possible exception of a number of single women.

The first check station was Port A, just below motor A3. The RIM was up out of sight over the curve of the hull, but, he could hear the thrumming of the contra-rotating twin props. Seven containers containing freight were locked down to the deck giving him barely a metre of free space before the side rail. Past the containers were the first of the passenger modules and he could see several people out gazing across the sea below.

"Kapitan!" a thick set, gruff, German businessman flicked a salute. Armin concluded it had been a good many years since the businessman had been in the military, but old habits die hard.

"Herr Schepke," he smiled. "You are out early?"

"I have always risen early, Herr Kapitan," he replied. "You must not let the grass grow under your feet." Armin looked down at the plas-steel deck, instinctively. Seeing no grass anywhere, he managed a wry smile.

Further on, some kids were playing soccer, even though it was discouraged on the open deck. He decided they were well enough supervised and advised them to remain at least a metre from the side rails. He went on to check into Port B. From here, he had a clear view of the ventral fin and he looked over the rail for a time to assure himself the rudder tabs were moving freely.

"Sir?" came a female voice. He turned around and found a girl of about 16, pale faced and quite skinny. She was dressed in a faux fur coat and hood, tied tightly around her face. "Have you seen a small boy run past here?" she asked. Her accent was British and faintly lilting. Armin asked her for a description before shaking his head. "He's always doing this," she told him. "I'm scared he'll fall one day, then he'll be sorry."

"No doubt," Armin grinned. "We are 1000 metres above the sea. But have no fear, miss," he continued. "There is a safety net and, if he should go over the side, I can retrieve him with a bill hook."

"Do you live on this ship?" she asked.

"Yes," he told her. "I have an apartment aft."

"Must be fabulous," she said, "to travel all over the world - exotic places. Seeing this view every morning..."

"Not every morning," he smiled. "Sometimes it's cloudy. Sometimes we travel through fog. There are high winds so it's difficult to stand on deck. There are many things..."

"Sounds great! If you see Shane, tell him I want him back at our cabin pronto!"

"Miss?" Armin called as she was about to go. "Shane is your son?"

"Oh, no," she laughed. "He's my cousin. My Uncle and Auntie are next door. They get me to look after him in the mornings so they can have a break."

"No doubt well earned," he smiled. "And you are?"

"Heather."

"Well, Heather, I'll keep a special look out for Shane, okay?"

Armin watched her walk away - watched the swing of her hips and her long hair plaited down her back and sighed. 'Too young, ' he thought, idly. 'Pity.'

Sexual relations with passengers were forbidden by the company, but the rule was rarely enforced. He was such a rare commodity, an airship captain, that his loss to the service for breaking a minor rule outweighed the gravity of the offense. But, he needed to be discrete for the sake of 'appearances' - and those complicated situations that might arise.

Towards amidships - by Port C - was one of three elevators that led up into the hull. His duty required him to perform an O2 check, even though those levels were constantly monitored by sensors. The level must remain at less than .5% and there should be less than .1% free hydrogen. The hydrogen, naturally, would collect at the top of the hull and if the level was too high, it was possible to vent it into the atmosphere through valves.

Hydrogen, although difficult to handle because of the risk of fire, was preferred over the safer helium because, in a helium airship, the hull would need to be another third the size. Hydrogen was still much easier, and cheaper, to manufacture and, providing it wasn't allowed to mix with oxygen within the proximity of an ignition source, perfectly safe.