Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [6]
“Don’t be a cad, Bertie,” said a voice nearby. Nathanial found his attention taken up by a portly young man, sitting on the opposite side of the aisle and a few seats back. The fellow to whom he was talking, sitting in an aisle seat, was much thinner and looked around with embarrassment. He caught Nathanial’s eyes and smiled weakly. “Teaching is surely an admirable career to pursue,” the portly one continued, impolitely loud.
Bertie, who by Nathanial’s estimation could be no more than twenty-two years of age, looked at his companion, and said in a quieter tone; “That is as may be, but we live in trying times, and there are tales to tell. Allegory. It is the only way to…”
“Bertie, old chap, you are not one to draw the long bow. If you want fantastical tales, then all you need do is take a trip to Venus or Mercury. I hear tell that life there is quite fantastic.”
“If I had such funds, then I surely would.”
Nathanial smiled at Bertie, and looked away. Right now he would have gladly exchanged places with Bertie. Teaching sounded positively more appealing than where he was going. Thinking of which…
“Captain Folkard, if I may enquire, just where are we going, sir?”
The captain looked at Nathanial for a moment. “Are you telling me you were not informed?”
“If I were, then I would hardly need to ask,” Nathanial pointed out, once again feeling like he was being mocked by the captain.
“Quite so, Professor, quite so.”
Nathanial shook his head, and held up a hand. “Please, Captain Folkard, desist with the ‘professor’. I am merely a student of…”
“Here we are,” Folkard said, just as the gondola began to tremble. Sounds of distress and surprise filled the gondola.
Nathanial gripped the arms of his chair. “This is beyond the pale!”
“Do not fret, Professor, the vibration is merely a result of the altitude. Aerostatic ships are not designed for such altitudes.” The captain stood. “If you would care to follow me?”
“Follow you?” Nathanial shook his head fervently. The shuddering of the gondola was getting worse. The glass casings of the gas lamps rattled against their holdings. “Follow you where, sir?”
“This is the pinch of the game, Professor.” Folkard raised an eyebrow. “If you would care to look out of the porthole you will soon see our destination.”
Nathanial did as he was told. “Hallo!” said he in surprise.
Some distance away but drawing ever-closer was the HMAS Sovereign herself. And what a ship! He had, of course, seen the blueprints while working on the governor, and he had even toured the engine room while she was being constructed at the Chatham Slips, but this was really seeing her in all her majestic glory. From bow to stern she measured in at 420 feet, a mixture of wood and steel-plating. Gun turrets protruded half way along the length of her, while two chasers, powerful cannons, stood at the ready either end of the aether battleship. Seen from below, which was Nathanial’s current vantage point, the doubled-plated glass bottom protected the liftwood slats that kept the ship afloat in the cloudy blue sky above the North Sea. At the stern, hanging like some upside-down tower was the antenna, covered in 152 mirrors which served a two-fold purpose. For the first the mirrors, when in the aether, gathered in the heat of the sun’s rays which in turned boiled the water contained in the large vats at the heart of the engine room. For the second, the mirrors served to communicate the Morse-based heliograph messages sent to and from the ship.
Nathanial shook his head in awe. It was a tremendous sight to behold; never had there been an aether battleship so large, so powerful! Although still untested, with the successful application of the all-new governor,