ARCANA Chapter 5 by William James Johnson

The crew awoke to a brilliant summer morning, their giant airship undulating lazily in a gentle breeze. Andre and Tuma, having completed their watch, went onto the catwalk outside the flight deck and marvelled at the large gathering of spectators that were collecting below them. The rising eastern sun sparkled off the silver gas bag and cast its huge shadow along the low coastal mountains which formed a dramatic backdrop in the Swedish landscape.

Numerous small fishing boats and larger craft circled the inflatable dinghy which supported the nose pylon. When the viewers saw the two crewmen of Nobile come out of the cabin, boats sounded their whistles and cars lined along the pier blew their horns. It was a Swedish village version of a New York ticker tape celebration. All of Europe had been following the progress of the Nobile and were relieved to learn it had survived what had been a rare summer cyclone.

Assessment of the storm's damage was first on Carlo's list of priorities. The result of the loud bang when Moysev used the SIC was still a mystery. Henley and Tuma prepared to inspect the solar banks on the surface of Airship Nobile while Carlo and John examined the propeller blades. The long graceful fans were checked by scaling the bridge work which reinforced the structure.

Made of laminated fibreglass, the fan blades were designed to be flexible in extreme conditions, and the laminating gave them the tensile strength of steel. Both pilots were pleased to see the storm had not affected them. The way they had survived the onslaught convinced them their craft was capable of taking them anywhere they might choose.

Henley and Tuma made their way slowly on to the catwalk. Tuma helped Henley back into the Nobile when he saw that he was paralysed with fear. The young Eskimo wore a rocket belt as a safety precaution to blast him instantaneously skyward should he slip from this great height. Tuma had used his belt in practise in Pozzuoli, but Henley still had to face the experience. The Englishman was terrified of heights and did not want the others to know. He certainly did not want Sandra to see that Tuma had more courage than he did. Alone, Tuma crawled gingerly up the 150 foot girth of the airship on nylon ladders which went from the gondola to the edge of the mass of solar cells attached on the top of the craft.

The spectators below craned their necks skyward as they saw Tuma make his way slowly up the ladder. The pliant surface of the blimp made the ascent as difficult as scaling a sand dune. It took him twenty minutes of strenuous effort to reach the edge of the solar field that covered the curving top of Nobile.

Exhausted, he rested on the billowy surface of the craft. The cell bank had been pulled back almost to midship. The charge from the SIC had caused the separation. Tuma continued hand over hand along the safety cord which skirted the solar cells. Carlo's anxious voice came on the intercom.

"How serious is it, Tuma?"

"Thirty feet of solar panels separate from top of ship. It folded over on attached panels and flapping in wind."

"Do they look as if they've been damaged?" asked John.

"Not know for sure. Tuma only on edge of the solar field."

The youth offered to ignite his rocket belt and hover over the damaged energy field to take a closer look at the solar cells.

"Wait a minute, Tuma. Can you see those long grey ribs attached to the surface of the ship?" asked John.

"Yes, Tuma can ...With cell blanket folded back Tuma see them."

"Good. Those are Velcro strips which anchor the solar panels to the surface. While you're flying over them to check for damage, pull the panels back into place and press them against the Velcro. It's going to be tricky. You've got to be careful that you don't put too much pressure on the panels or you might damage the sensitive collectors."

"Tuma do it right away, John."

"Fire up your rockets, Tuma, and check those cells."

A sudden gust of white smoke shot out of the back of his rocket pack as Tuma lifted off the trampoline surface of the airship and flew to the area where the solar blanket had folded over. Gently he hovered at the edge of the energy cell panel and, getting a grip on it, tugged firmly, pulling it in the direction of the nose of the craft. He was surprised at how heavy this flimsy material felt. Hovering over the energy field which had been replaced against the Velcro fasteners, he decreased the thrust of his rockets and descended carefully above the solar cells, firming up their attachment to the Velcro support. The entire mission took less than fifteen minutes.

"Tuma done, Skipper. Tuma not see any damage under cells. Everything OK."

A loud roar of approval and applause was heard from below as the spectators saw the young hero fly to the edge of Nobile.

"Great work, Tuma. Take care coming down. Take all the time you need."

Henley returned to the catwalk to assist Tuma. Standing on the ladder which moved freely against the side of the blimp, he found it much more difficult than before. With each step, Henley looked down and saw the steel blue water of Kalmar Sund reflecting the light back at him. Tuma sensed that Henley was having difficulty, but didn't wish to mark him out by letting him or the others know he was aware of his fear.

Where the ladder swung underneath the dirigible, Henley suddenly felt his foot slip off the nylon rung. Dangling in space, unable to relocate his footing, he yelled for help, his hands hanging onto the rung above in sheer desperation. Michael, who had been watching the descent from the gondola catwalk, scaled the ladder with the swiftness of a wild animal and pulled Henley's feet back into the side of the blimp. Slowly, the three men completed their return to the railing and entered the safety of the gondola. Carlo and John now had a greater appreciation of the calibre of men selected by Centcomp for this historic mission.

Still visibly shaken, Henley Armstrong was helped out of his rocket belt by Sandra. He grabbed Michael with both arms and with deep emotion said, "You saved my life."

Moysev and Helga had been listening to the transmissions over the intercom and had just come into the pilot's compartment unaware of what had happened on the ladder.

"With all this warm embracing, are you sure you're not part Russian?"

The sudden outburst of nervous laughter released the tension which had been building since the last night's storm, and now that the problems outside the craft were solved, and all the crew were back safely inside the pod, the crew sensed a new unity.

Commander Nobile called for Liu to join the others on the crew deck.

"I have decided we'll return to Pozzuoli. There really is no need to continue on to Oslo. I am certain our ship can get us to our destination. Examination of the fans revealed no damage to the fibreglass blades. If they could stand such gale force winds as we had last night, I foresee no problems. Also the tremendous job done by Henley and Tuma to repair the energy field convinces me that we are flexible enough to take on whatever may come our way. From the sound of your audience down below, that must have been some performance you put on. There's only one thing that continues to bother me - that's Liu's observation about the limitations on our energy source."

Helga interjected, "I think we have that one solved too, Commander."

"How do you mean?"

"Nicholas and I have been studying the graphs of the energy spectrum. We believe the answer to the possibility of encountering cloudy weather, which might result in a depletion of our energy volume, is to include a bank of infra red conversion cells on the sides of the Nobile. These will continue to charge our nickel cadmium storage system regardless of the weather conditions. We feel these boosters would ensure we would have sufficient power to deploy the mooring mast whenever we choose."

Carlo liked their suggestion but, being impatient by nature, he was concerned about the length of time it would take to modify the craft. Andre Goulet answered his query.

"Velcro stripping and a standard bank of infra red cells should take no longer than four days to install. The biggest problem is going to be getting the engineers to work from scaffolding while the airship is airborne."

"The scaffolding is still available in Pozzuoli," said John. "And we could probably get the same men who installed the solar field to do the job."

"Well, I like the idea myself," said Carlo. "It'll give us that little margin of safety I'm sure we all would appreciate having - particularly after last night's storm. Is everyone agreed? We'll adopt Helga's suggestion when we get back."

They all liked the new idea. Liu was even sporting a smug grin now that his complaint had finally been resolved.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's get this beast home," said John, as he mounted the pilot's seat and began turning on switches.

"Andre and Sandra, take care of the rear anchors. Carlo, retrieve the main pylon. Michael, get clearance from Goteborg and request a Baltic crossing at 4500 feet."

"We'd like to go VFR to Czarnkow, Poland," Carlo added to Michael's instructions.

"What's a Czarnkow?" asked John jokingly.

"We were given a blanket clearance before we left to fly over any European country as we saw fit. Czarnkow is the most direct route from Kalmar if we take into consideration the sixty mile an hour crosswinds associated with the low pressure area across our course."

"So, we're going to fly over a Polish town. So what?"

"Czarnkow has ideal terrain for us to practise using the rocket darts on a land mooring. Besides, it will be early afternoon when we get there. It'll give us a chance to put on a show for the Commies. After all, they're putting a lot into this project too."

Nicholas listened to Carlo's plans.

"I appreciate my young commander's sentiments, but I'm sure Helga and I don't particularly like being called Commies."

Carlo went immediately into his sincerely apologetic act and Moysev and the others suddenly burst into spontaneous laughter. Embarrassed, Carlo did not know how to respond. John came to his rescue.

"Take it easy Skipper. Just a little red humour."

The crew took their positions for the lift off. Carlo collapsed the mooring dinghy and the mast returned to its appropriate non-operational mode. Those at the rear were not having much success winching in the rear stabilizing anchors. Andre's was secure, but Sandra's jammed with about forty feet of cable and anchor dangling under the craft.

"Sorry John, I can't get it to come in any further."

"Recycle it, Sandra, and try again."

"I've done that, but it's no use. It won't go out or come in. I'm afraid that if I continue trying I might burn out the winch motor."

"Okay. Hold on and I'll come back and see what I can do. Take over, Skipper. I'll be right back."

Carlo slipped into the pilot's seat and put the fans on idle. At the rear of the pod, John opened an inspection hatch and saw that the cable had jumped the winch wheel and was jammed over the edge. Turning the power on, he tried to get the cable to go out again. The weight of the anchor had wedged the cable too tightly into the winch wheel. Again he tried, reversing the winch, but the acrid smell from the winch motor indicated Sandra was correct: continued use might burn out the motor. The crew needed this anchor for a safe mooring when they returned to base.

"It's a balls up, Skipper. The cable is stuck. Got any ideas?"

"Can we release the anchor and get the weight off the cable?"

"Good idea if there was some way to release the anchor. It's too far out of reach. And besides if we could let it go we might be asking for trouble when we get back to base. We just might need that weight if there's much wind on arrival."

Michael had been listening carefully. Even though reluctant to suggest just any solution he finally volunteered his idea for solving the jammed winch.

"Commander! I feel quite confident about using my rocket belt. How would it be if I hovered just above the anchor and fastened one of our dinghies to it. I could then release it and let it fall into the water. Once you've got the cable free, you could send it down to me on the surface and I could reattach it."

"I can't let you risk it, Michael. Not after what you've already been through today."

"That's even more reason I should try," insisted Michael. "This is valuable experience. If this were the Arctic we'd have to do something."

"He's right, Carlo," agreed John. "I'll go with him."

"No way, John. I can do it by myself. It should only take a few minutes. Besides, if something happened, you sure wouldn't want to leave this beautiful ship in the hands of that fiery Italian."

Carlo agreed to let Michael put his plan into action. Sandra steadied her camera along the rail of the catwalk as Michael came out onto the ledge followed by Henley and Tuma. He was carrying a deflated dinghy and a shiny coil of nylon fastened to his waist. Henley took the coil from him and gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

"Don't be long Michael," said Sandra. "We'll all miss you."

A white puff of smoke surrounded them as he blasted off the catwalk into space, flying towards the rear of the dirigible, dropping altitude as he went. The others watched on the monitor in the flight deck as he struggled to attach the dinghy to the base of the rear anchor cable. The anchor, which weighed about a hundred pounds, was designed to grasp onto rocks or embed in sand to stabilize the lateral movement of the airship when making an open sea mooring. Michael looked incredibly small against the silver ship as he hovered sixty feet above the icy waters. Gusts of wind blew him away from the cable, and with skilful flying he was back on the job. They all cheered as they saw him release the CO2 charge in the dinghy and the bright yellow craft inflated explosively. Their cheers were followed by gasps as the impact of the explosive charge threw Michael off balance. He plummeted about thirty feet towards Kalmar Sund before regaining control of the rocket belt.

Returning to the suspended dinghy and anchor, Michael grabbed the release handle and yanked it upwards. Leaving him dangling in space the freed anchor and orange dinghy separated from the end of the cable and plunged towards the water.

John and Andre quickly pulled the cable out of its wedged position on the reel and with the motor now working properly sent the loose end of the cable down to Michael who was standing in the bouncing dinghy and holding the anchor in an upright position. Stretching over the side of the dinghy, he caught the free end of the cable and fastened it onto the anchor.

"Hurry up Mike," shouted John over the intercom in the young man's helmet. "You've got less than four minutes remaining in the belt."

"It's all set, Skipper. Anchors away."

This time it worked perfectly. The spectators in the boats and on the shore roared as they saw Michael ride the anchor back to the airship. He waved to the crowds and they in turn blasted their boat whistles and honked their car horns.

John Robins hauled Michael into the inspection opening with the anchor while the others thronged about the young hero. Sandra had captured the entire event on video tape. She couldn't believe she was getting such exciting footage for the record. This mission was going to make her famous.

"That does it," said Carlo when the others joined him in the flight deck. "To hell with landing in Poland. We're going home."

Back in Pozzuoli, obtaining the infra red panels recommended by Nicholas and Helga was not as easy as the crew had anticipated. An electronics firm in Japan was the only company in the world who could provide the collectors and they had to adapt the backing of the cells for the Velcro attachment selected for the Airship. Instead of four days to complete the refit, it took until the middle of June. Testing proved the addition was very worthwhile and the resulting improvement in the crew confidence outweighed the frustration caused by the delay of their departure.

John and Carlo decided that since they were going to have to wait for the infra red panels, they might as well make another change in the craft. Discussions with the engineers established the fact that the Nobile propeller fans could increase the airship's cruising speed to 50 knots with the addition of one more fibreglass blade. While these modifications were completed and tested, the crew spent many hours learning how to use the rocket belt, arctic survival gear, and search and rescue electronic aids. Carlo was determined that if there should be an incident in the Arctic like that of his grandfather, he wanted each and every crewman to know what to do to protect himself.

As the time drew closer for the departure the crew became like anxious children on Christmas Eve. The night before leaving for the Arctic all had agreed to pass on a formal celebration. Carlo and John, accompanied by Helga and Sandra, had a quiet get together in Sorrentos, Pozzuoli's only cafe.

Sipping Cinzano, John remarked, "Do you realize what a cross section of society is sitting at this table? We've got four nations represented. Three marital conditions. Two sexes..."

"And a partridge in a pear tree," interrupted Sandra, singing her contribution, and they all laughed warmly. Their weeks of hard work and interdependence had brought them closer together than most families.

"No kidding, Sandra," continued John. "We're a lucky bunch of bastards. Two months ago, all I had to look forward to was another season of carrying TV cameras over NFL games, and now the whole world is waiting for our small crew of ten to find a hole in the earth and bring back our lost leader."

Touching his hand, Sandra realized he wanted to be serious.

"I agree. John, but it is not very flattering being referred to as a bastard."

"I'm sorry...you know what I meant...Come on. Let's dance."

The stereo in Sorrentos had an abundant collection of records dating back to the thirties, and an elderly tourist couple had selected the old standard,. 'Blue Heaven'.

John held Sandra closely, savouring her fragrance as his right hand rested easily on the top of her athletic buttocks. Sandra pressed closer, letting him know she enjoyed the familiarity he was taking with her.

"Nice song," said Sandra, her warm breath making his ear tingle.

"That's what I call 'getting to know you better' music.'"

"I agree. There's so little I know about you, John."

"What's to know? I'm just your run of the mill adventure jock."

"No way. There's nothing ordinary about you. Haven't you seen how all the crew depend on you?"

"Carlo is the Commander. They should depend on him...not me. I'm just a pilot."

"Don't put yourself down. You wouldn't be on this mission if you hadn't earned it."

John was never one to accept praise easily. Self-conscious when given credit, he was inclined to make light of his achievements.

"Look, are we going to dance or talk?"

She pulled him closer. She felt the tenseness between his shoulders in her arm around his neck. Her soft, warm cheek nestled against his handsome face, and they danced without talking. When the music finished, instead of returning to their table, she held his arm and guided him out the rear of Sorrentos onto a quiet patio.

"Now can we talk?"

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Her."

"Who?

"Mrs. Robins...whatever her name is."

"Carol..."

"Do you love her?"

"I guess we loved each other in the beginning. We really shouldn't have gotten married. It was just before I went to Nam. I wanted to wait, but she insisted."

"Was she pregnant?"

"Hell no...she was in love. We were only kids. So we got married...I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

John felt the flush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks.

"I'd like to know John. I want to know you better...but if you'd rather not talk about it."

Reluctantly he continued.

"When I got back from overseas, things were never the same. She wanted me to get a job, a mortgage, join a church...all those good things. But all I knew how to do was fly combat aircraft. I'm not the type to harness myself from nine to five."

Slowly they walked off the patio and down the path which led to the beach. The warm evening breeze from the sea was exhilarating.

"Because of my military training I got on with the Coast Guard and they trained me to fly the weather blimp. Carol hated the military and made me an either or proposition. So I told her I'd think about it."

"Why didn't you leave her then?"

"I loved her, or thought I did. I can still remember all her passionate letters while I was away; I couldn't wait to get back. But then she laid a heavy trip on me about home and mother."

"And passion...those letters."

"All words. She just wanted a meal ticket. She wasn't even willing to put out for it."

His earthy language fascinated Sandra.

"Then why stay with her?"

"I thought she was right, and I was wrong. I believed it was a matter of growing up on my part. So I quit the service when Goodyear made me an offer I couldn't refuse, and I began watching football games from two thousand feet up."

"And then they lived happily ever after."

"Don't I wish...it was worse than before. She felt I'd become a celebrity as the pilot of the Goodyear blimp, and that I was being unfaithful to her with all the little groupies who hung around our launch pad in Miami."

"And were you?"

"After awhile of course...but not in the beginning. I decided if she was going to give me the name, I might as well play the game."

"So where do you stand now?"

"Apart...the further the better."

"Are you going to get a divorce?"

"Probably...I'll know better when we get back."

"When and if."

"Do you really have doubts?" he asked.

Sandra paused before answering. "I find it hard to believe that somewhere up north, there's a twelve hundred mile opening in the earth, that no one has discovered before. I think we're probably going to have a pleasant trip north and back, and nothing will come of it. Hopefully I'll get some great tape and my future will be assured."

"I guess down deep I feel the same way. Wouldn't it be great, though, if there really were UFOs that came from inside the earth and we discovered it."

"You're a genuine romantic, John Robins."

"More than I'm willing to admit, I guess...I just think it would be terrific if we were the ones to discover Arcana, and I'm not even sure what that means."

"That's what the Cardinal spoke about. I checked its meaning and apparently it's no longer used. It refers to things which are secret. He made it sound like we were going to discover some ancient secrets which might change the world."

"What else would you expect from a Cardinal?"

They had reached a small fishing shack at the end of the pier. John pushed open the door and led Sandra into the dark room, redolent with years of the Mediterranean harvest. They stood quietly waiting for their eyes to adapt to the darkness. He was the first to spot a tarpaulin in a corner covered in a tangled mass of ropes. He gently led Sandra towards the tarp.

"Not here."

"Why not?"

"The smell for one thing. And I'm not sure I want to."

Her hesitation angered John.

"You sound just like her. All promise with your eyes and your body, but you don't come across."

It suddenly dawned on him; he was beginning to sound like a high school teenager trying to make out in the back seat at the drive-in.

"I'm sorry Sandra...please forgive me. I've been acting like a stupid kid."

"It's not your fault. It's probably the Cinzano. We could go back to my room if you like." She spoke in a soft voice which defused the situation.

"Naw...the others might see us. What would they think? And Henley. There's no saying what he might do."

Sandra became annoyed when he mentioned Henley. She knew it was because of her British companion that she had been chosen to come on this journey. She had been ignoring him since her selection had been confirmed.

"What kind of man are you? You want to make it with me and you're worried about what the others might think."

John knew she was right. His whole life had been hypocritical. He wasn't the terror with the women he pretended to be. He felt Viet Nam had made him this way. Being only a teenager when he went there, he had learned to sneak away to the brothels and take some young girl by force asserting his virility and his hatred for the enemy at the same time.

Sandra relented as the moonlight shone into the small shack and she saw the despondent expression on his face. She was not aware that this shack had taken him back to the far east and memories of a past he had hoped were finished.

"Look John. I'm not a prude. I've wanted to make love with you from the first time I saw you. If making out on this old canvas is what turns you on, then that's what we'll do. Only please let's forget about your Carol and my Henley...it's just the two of us".

She dropped softly onto the canvas, beside the hairy fishing ropes, pulling John towards her. It lasted less than twenty minutes, but in its weird way it released the tension which had been building for weeks.

By ten in the morning on a perfect day in Pozzuoli, the crew of the Nobile gathered at the base of the crane for the official send off by Gerald Thorpe and the other dignitaries who had been invited to bid farewell to the courageous explorers. The US had flown over the Marine band from Pensacola to provide the background music for this paramilitary operation. Cardinal Vallenti had been asked to invoke the blessings of a higher spirit on the mission of Airship Nobile.

Thorpe gave the final message. "Brave crew of the Nobile, I envy you. You are about to begin an historical venture which could well be the greatest scientific discovery of this century. Your countrymen are proud of the efforts you have already made to take such a diverse group and shape yourselves into an efficient crew. Best wishes and much success. We'll be watching your every move and we'll be waiting anxiously for your safe return. May God help you to bring back the Arcana."

Carlo spoke on behalf of the crew. "Mr. Thorpe, Ladies and Gentlemen. You have bestowed a great honour on the family Nobile. I pledge I will give you my life if necessary to fulfill our mission. To all my crew, you are my reason for living. Without your hard work, we would not be making this journey. Thank you, my friends, and now let us be on our way."

The crane carried Carlo, Sandra, Moysev, Chow, and Henley in the first lift to the crew pod, and returned for Michael, Tuma, Helga, Andre, and John to complete its manifest. Thousands of waving spectators cheered as the crane slowly withdrew from the side of the dirigible. They waved flags of the nations who had supplied the crew of the Nobile. Their upturned faces and many coloured flags fluttering in the breeze looked like a patchwork quilt.

"There's something very unreal about all of this," said Sandra.

"Everything is unreal," said John. "The only reality is here and now and what we do with it."

"Don't you two start getting heavy on me," said Carlo. "There'll be lots of time to philosophize once we get going."

"Sorry Commander. You're right. Crew, standby to launch...start starboard fan."

"Starboard fan turning."

"Start port fan."

"We've got a start."

"Store main mooring mast."

"Mast coming in...mast locked in position."

"Rear position, wind up anchors."

"Port anchor winding, Skipper," said Michael.

"Starboard anchor winding," said Henley.

As the dirigible floated freely the sense of excitement rippled through the crew. Slowly, gracefully, the silver bullet moved towards a heading of 270 as the giant Nobile turned westward on a course for Gibraltar. Centcomp had selected a course for the Airship Nobile which would take it across the Atlantic to Canada, then north west to its destination in the centre of the ice pack west of Sverdrup Island.

Above Pozzuoli, at about 4000 feet, the crew could see as far north as Rome. Gently drifting like a rubber raft on a quiet lake, the Nobile felt motionless over a turquoise Tyrrhenian Sea.

"Be nice if the whole trip was as smooth as this," said John.

"That extra fan blade seems to be giving us more stability," said Carlo. "And we are doing almost 60 knots."

Michael maintained a communication and weather watch. "These balmy conditions are supposed to be good for the next couple days, with unsettled weather later in the week."

"The last time you told us of bad weather, I wasn't sure we were going to make it," added John.

"Two days will get us out beyond Gibraltar."

"What is that land mass in the west?" asked Helga.

"Sardinia. We cross the northern tip," answered John. "Carlo, you've got control. I want to check things out at the back."

Carlo grabbed the rudder controls and soon got that dreamy look on his face which occurred whenever he was piloting the Nobile. Helga sat beside him, admiring the handsome young Italian, participating in their mutual fantasy. John paused momentarily on his way to the rear, to look in on Liu and Moysev. They were studying a map of the Canadian Arctic.

"How's it going, men?"

"I calculate it will take about eight days to reach Viscount Melville Sound," said Liu.

"About 73 north. That is where magnetic north was established in 1955. From there to the opening we'll have to monitor closely what happens to the strength of the earth's magnetic field."

"We sure don't want anything to happen to us like the model you demonstrated in the Ionizer," said John.

"Precisely. I'm a little concerned, Liu, that your ETA does not take into consideration the vagaries of the weather we may encounter," remarked Moysev.

"All ETAs, my dear Doctor, are merely a calculated guess."

John left the two scientists to their debate. As he went along the port corridor he saw Tuma and Andre on the cat walk that surrounded the crew pod. Opening the sliding hatch he asked, "What're you two up to?"

"Readings. Never thought there would still be such a high residual radioactivity from the Israeli nuclear bombs. The fine desert sand suspended in the air is still capable of giving me a Geiger indication."

"I thought by now that would have been completely dissipated," said John.

"Moi aussi, mon ami. Tuma, show John the filter."

"Come back inside fellows."

The three stepped into the corridor and Tuma opened a clear plastic cylinder in which a fine filter had been placed and Andre, using a portable Geiger counter, held the sensor over the container and let John listen to the electronic clicking.

"Is it dangerous?" he asked.

"Not really. It would be dangerous in time if you ingested large amounts of radioactive dust over several years."

"What can it do?"

"Many things...lung cancer, other respiratory illnesses."

Usually very complacent, Tuma became concerned about Andre's information.

"You mean Tuma get hurt doing this thing?"

"Not at all Tuma. You receive more radiation from natural sources in the rocks and from ultra violet rays in your homeland. You have nothing to fear."

"I'm more worried about you guys being out on that cat walk than I am about your observations. Take care, you two. We don't want anything to go wrong."

Tuma and Andre smiled, assuring John there was no need to worry, as they headed for Andre's cabin where he had his laboratory.

As John arrived at the rear of the airship, he saw Henley and Sandra were having an argument. He overheard Sandra say, "He doesn't mean anything to me. Would I have told you if it meant something?"

John was shaken by her words. He turned to leave, when suddenly he was spotted by Henley.
"Keep your hands off her, you goddamn Yank, or I promise you'll regret it."

View the biography of author William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com