Aurorarama - Jean-Christophe Valtat [114]
Gabriel thought perhaps it was because of their shared tendency to expect wonders from women. Trying to turn someone like Sybil Springfield into a model spouse or a vaudeville girl like Stella Black into a pure romantic love was in its own way being open to supernatural phenomena, but maybe, he surmised, Brentford wanted a less speculative answer.
“Well, it seems Helen uses her spirit as a kind of homing pigeon to contact you,” Gabriel proposed. He had a hunch that Helen was not too keen on appearing to Brentford in her present state, but he kept that to himself as well. “What business this d’Ussonville may have with us, however, I do not have the least inkling.”
“Nevertheless, we’re on to something here,” said Brentford, easing himself back in his wicker armchair.
“Would you care for quick a tour of the Ariel?” Treschler interrupted them.
The engineer was a swift and efficient guide.
“Originally,” he said, leading them through the corridors, “the Ariel was stolen from the French army by a group of our fellow anarchists. It was then called the Patrie or something. You will agree that we have improved on that, as we have on the rest of the craft. From this porthole you can see the reversible propellers, one on the rear and two on each wing, swivelling up and down for manœuverability. As you could observe for yourselves last week, the ship can remain in stationary flight for quite a long time.
“And these,” he said, opening a door, “are the motors. Electric. They look rather insignificant, I admit, but they can push us to a good 60 knots, if needed. Our little secret, not patented, of course, is that we can recharge the batteries through the Aurora Borealis. It is hard enough to fly airships in the Arctic because of the ice weighing everywhere and getting encrusted in the propellers, so that when the propellers turn, they shoot little slivers of ice that tear the envelope. So it is good to have a little power in exchange for all the trouble.
“These Keely devices,” he added, indicating a row of glass tubes linked to coils and batteries, “allow us, by separating air and water, to produce Vapouric Ether, much lighter and safer than hydrogen, that we use to refill the gas bags. As a matter of fact, everything in the ship is based upon a simple ether-electricity loop. We can make each from the other according to our needs, electricity for the motors or Vapouric Ether for the bag, so that we have few autonomy problems. What more can anarchists ask for?”
“Now, if you please,” he said, indicating a steel ladder that led to a hatch. From there, they could access the upper gallery, at the bottom of the envelope. A very narrow walkway ran along the whole hundred yards of a V-shaped keel frame that sloped away at each end. It was very cold and they all hurried toward the nearest hatch, which was located amidships.
“The Ariel is, in technical parlance, a kind of Parseval semi-rigid airship. The bag holds approximately 350,000 cubic feet of gas and can lift about twenty tons. Which means there is not one useless scrap of metal or piece of wood allowed on board, except weapons, of course, which are useless until they’re useful. As you can see over your heads, there are bulkheads between the seventeen gasbags, so that tears or shots through one bag do not necessarily endanger the ship. Those bags are not made of the usual Goldbeater’s skin, which is nothing but calf intestines. If they were, lifting such a ship would require the slaughtering of about 200,000 calves.”
As Tuluk translated this to the Inuit, Uitayok frowned, but Brentford could not tell if it was because animal intestines were exactly the kind of technology Inuit would use or because the sheer numbers involved erased any doubts Uitayok might have had about the insanity of the qallunaat. Impressed as he was, he was not a man to