That area, anyway. We'll cover the distance while we're climbing.'
'Okay,' Indy said.
'Maybe not so much okay,' Foulois broke in. 'Indy, you must consider something I have not heard anyone speak about.'
'Which is?'
'Everything we have heard about this airship, no? It is very fast. It may be faster than we are when we reach upstairs.'
'It could be,' Indy admitted. 'We'll have to find out when we get there.'
'Ah, then consider,' Foulois said quickly. 'If this is the way it is to be, then I urge you and my corpulent English friend, here, to attempt to reach perhaps another two thousand feet or so. We can gain speed in a shallow dive. At that altitude, we will become very fast.'
Cromwell laughed, but without a trace of humor. 'Don't forget, Indy, we'll likely have company.'
Chino listened with amazement to the conversation. He turned to Gale.
'Company? What kind of company is higher than even the eagles fly?'
'Discs.'
'Discs?'
'Well, more like scimitars in shape. But discs will do. They have jet engines and they're very fast, and they're likely to do everything they can to shoot us down.
So we'll be ready to give them the works, of course. That's why we've got those machine guns on the airplane.'
'This all sounds, like, well, like the wild tales our ancients tell the children.'
'It's a gas, isn't it?' Gale said.
Captain Hans Ulrich Guenther, master of the super airship Asgard, listened to the intercom reports as they came in steadily to the control bridge of the great zeppelin. His second in command, Richard Atkins, marked each item on a long checklist. The Asgard was half again as long as the greatest oceangoing vessel ever built, and there existed no room for errors. The airship had to be balanced perfectly, the center of gravity always known. The three men who shifted ballast and coordinated airship attitudes in flight functioned like orchestra leaders. So huge was the Asgard, and so sensitive in balance and inertia, it took several men to operate the vessel safely and smoothly.
By two o'clock in the morning all prelift requirements had been completed.
Guenther, looking straight ahead through the thick glass panels of the bridge gondola, watched the ground crew in position to begin ascent. From this height, even tethered in the tightfitting canyon of these American savages, the men appeared like toys. Guenther, without turning his head, spoke to Atkins. 'All flight crew aboard. Confirm.'
Atkins's answer came immediately. 'Three to go, sir. They are boarding now.
Two minutes.'
Soon Atkins approached Guenther. He held the checklist before the captain.
Guenther waved it aside. He had absolute confidence in his second. 'Mister Burgess!' Guenther announced with raised voice. Andrew Burgess, the most experienced pilot aboard, stepped forward. 'Sir!'
'Start all engines, Mister.'
'Start all engines, sir,' Burgess repeated. He went to the control position.
Three banks of instruments were spread out before him. To each side of the position where he would stand were several wheels for raising and lowering the nose, for operating through an elaborate system of hydraulics and cables the elevators and the rudder, and for dumping ballast when necessary. Burgess secured the standing harness about his body; were the vessel to shift to a steep angle of any kind he would be able to remain in the precise position he required to reach and operate the controls.
Standing behind and to his right were three more of his control team, who would relay commands and information from and to the pilot. They would also keep an eye on their own instrument panels. Backup for backup for backup; it was the only proper way to manage the greatest aerial vessel the earth had ever known.
Vibration beneath his feet. Engines starting. A distant roar as the huge jet engines spun up to proper speed, fuel flow, and temperature, and then ignited for operation. This far forward, the sound was a deep wind roaring through a tunnel, but muted like a faraway bass organ. 'Asgard ready for liftoff,' Atkins announced. 'Stand by,' Guenther ordered. He called out another name. 'Miller!'
The answer came from amidships. 'Weapons Officer Miller reporting, sir.' The voice was tinny as the speaker boxes in the gondola vibrated slightly. Miller was four hundred and seventy feet away in the belly of the Asgard. 'Miller, confirm security and safeties of the bombs.' 'Yes, sir. I report the gas bombs in their racks, fuses set for arming on your order, sir. All racks primed for release on your command, Captain.'
'Very good, Miller. Confirm all gunners at their stations.'
'Confirm all gunners secured at their stations, weapons at the ready, sir.'
'Flight Leader Moldava! This is the captain.' 'Moldava here, sir.' 'Status of the discs, Flight Leader.' 'Four discs secured, fueled, armed, and in position for launching at your command, sir. The bay doors have been tested and are ready for power opening, manual backup confirmed.'
'Thank you, Flight Leader.'
'Mister Burgess, order lift to commence,' Guenther ordered his Chief Pilot.
'Yes, sir. Commencing liftoff.' A klaxon sounded and echoed mournfully through the cavern, booming outside to the canyon walls. That was the signal for the ground crew to start easing tension on the holding cables. The Asgard tugged at her lines, seemingly anxious to break free of the earth. Burgess would let her lift vertically, the tension cables keeping her moving smoothly forward. Clear of the cavern, the great vessel would be in the canyon, from where she could begin a vertical ascent, the tension cables keeping her enormous rounded sides from brushing the walls to either side.
