ARCANA Chapter 7 by William James Johnson

The shock of Henley's death hung like a pall over the crew. There was an atmosphere of illegality when they voted to keep his death a secret, and the decision to ionize the corpse compounded their guilt. Normally talkative, John and Sandra were particularly quiet, both reluctant to speak for fear they might unconsciously betray the true reason for Henley's accident.

Not until day's end did the crew put the tragic event behind them. As the sun retreated in the western sky, the famous profile of Gibraltar loomed ahead. The narrowing of the Mediterranean as it emptied into the Atlantic focused their attention on the dark monolith coming up on the starboard side.

"They tell me there are hundreds of apes living in tunnels and caves all over that chunk of rock," said John.

"Probably related to early man," replied Carlo.

Both strained to get the crew's mind off Henley, but their efforts failed. Sandra had to express her feelings about the tragedy. She had been fighting it all day and now she had to deal with it.

"I'd be willing to have my body dematerialized if I died. I think Nicholas was right. I think Henley would have approved, and I'm sure he would have agreed with us to continue the mission. When I first saw it,...the ionization I mean, I was shocked. But now I feel being converted into pure energy when you have died is better than the tedious worm and maggot routine of western civilization."

"Or the burning ghat of India," added Helga.

"In Arctic, my people pile stones upon the dead and leave them," said Tuma. "It is too hard to dig."

"That's pre-Cambrian shield, Tuma," said Michael. "Solid granite."

From their discussion of death and the various customs of handling the remains, the conversation eventually evolved into a study of what actually happened in the ionization chamber.

"Tell me, Nicholas, when matter is converted to pure energy, is there not someway to make use of that energy?" asked John.

"Hopefully we'll be able to harness it someday. So far we cannot control dematerialization like those creatures who captured your president. Our methods are in most primitive stage. We can prevent energy field collapse, or we can induce it. We do not have any intermediate steps. It is like release of nuclear energy. You exceed a critical mass, and a chain reaction begins."

Liu was listening intently to Moysev. "I asked you before about the model. Where does this energy go? What form is it in?"

"The blue light you saw in chamber this morning is form the energy now takes. Ionization converts matter to light," answered Moysev.

"I'm surprised you have not developed a light collector similar to the solar cells on the Nobile, or the infra red converters. Would this not be a way of capturing the light energy for conversion to electrical force?"

Helga quickly grasped Liu's suggestion. "Imagine, Nicholas, if the walls of the Ionization Chamber were lined with photo cells, we could collect the radiant energy released when ionization occurs and it could be fed back to the ionizer cells in the form of electrical energy so that there would be a net gain instead of a loss when the chamber is activated."

"This need not apply only to human bodies," said Andre. "All matter could be converted to energy: controllable, useable, energy. This is what the world needs - a workable way of converting your common garden variety of matter into useable energy."

They were all getting excited about what had become a scientific symposium begun by Sandra's off the cuff remark about her willingness to be dematerialized after death. Instinctively they knew this discussion was being pursued to avoid speaking about Henley and their decision to continue their mission.

The grey mountain of Gibraltar now looked like a tiny rock in the ocean as the craft moved smoothly into the early evening sky over the eastern Atlantic. The next landfall would be 40 degrees north, the Portuguese islands in the Azores.

John continued with the subject of death. Like Sandra, he too wanted to experience something positive out of Henley's tragic ending.

"Not to be morbid, but wouldn't ionization be a marvellous way of converting the dead into something useable for the living?"

"Wouldn't work." said Carlo. "Religion and social conditioning would not permit it. Hitler was supposed to have converted the corpses of slaughtered Jews into soap and explosives, and the world has never gotten over that tragedy."

"That's different. That maniac was willing to wipe out millions of people to establish his theory of pure Arianism."

"Something like your President Koster and the poor people of Rocas," said Carlo.

John didn't like Carlo comparing Koster with Hitler but he had to admit it was an appropriate analogy.

"That was only 700 people."

"Seven hundred...seven thousand. It's only a matter of degree. Some nations would permit the conversion of corpses to useable energy, and some would find it repugnant. Your own country encourages organ banks for transplants. It's a matter of time and education."

"And government policy." said Moysev. "We in Russia do not agree entirely with President Koster, but we have always felt that the will of the mass is the will of the state. If the state chooses to use the dead to produce energy, it must first convince the masses it is justified. Just as your President did when he convinced you Americans it was right to use your neutron bomb on primitive peoples to prove to the world the effectiveness of your new weapons system. Probably, if he had succeeded in carrying out his plan, the world would remain at peace."

John defended Koster and the US "He didn't use it on them though, did he?"

"Fortunately for all of us he was taken away before he could carry out his plan," said Carlo.

Helga wanted back into the debate. She interjected, "I don't agree entirely with you, Nicholas. Surely the state must recognize that some individuals have more ability than others and should reward these persons with more freedom than is enjoyed by the masses. We...you and I, are certainly good examples of this."

"We are free, Helga, to do the will of the state. It is like a Christian being free to do the will of God. Happy are we that our scientific field is of prime importance to our country. All progressive nations are striving for breakthroughs in new energy fields. We have been successful in our discoveries. If we were not successful, you can be sure we would not be flying in the Nobile."

John took Nicholas up on his last statement. "You sound inconsistent to me, Nicholas. At first you say you agree with rule by the will of the masses, but then you seem to resent the fact that your earned liberty is limited by your degree of success. You imply it could be taken from you should you fail."

"That is correct, my friend, and that is as it should be. Society has become so complex there is no room for the non-productive, hangers on. We are not here for a free ride. I agree with Helga that the individual who contributes should be rewarded but only so long as his contributions improve society."

Tuma had been listening carefully to this exchange and surprised the crew by agreeing with Moysev. "In Arctic, long time ago, my people worked to help everyone in the village. That was before white man come to my land. Even in play little children did the work of big people. But that is all changed now. White man rip my land to find oil and other rich things and gives my people houses and television and snowmobiles. They no longer hunt and fish to live. Now they wait for white man's ship or airplane to bring them cans of pop and bags of chips. I remember stories of the old days, when my grandfather was too old to hunt anymore. They say he left igloo and crawled out into the blizzard, and died because he did not want to be a burden on the others of my small village. Those were better days when everyone forgot himself and worked for others."

"Spoken like a true Communist, my boy," said Moysev.

"The problem with Russia is it still has not become a true Communist state," said Helga. "My parents told me that under Comrade Stalin it was more Communist than it is today. We have become more like you Americans, John. Now we hunger after profits, gain, material...things like that."

"And we are becoming more like you. "Americans expect their government to look after them from the cradle to the grave. Then they wonder whatever happened to their freedom. We cannot even talk on the telephone without Centcomp listening in."

Moysev began to laugh. "You really are becoming more like us. Why fight it. If we would admit we have an understanding, all this nonsense of huge military budgets could be converted to making life more pleasant, more peaceful. That is one way to save energy, and we do not have to make any new discoveries to make it work."

It sounded so simple. All one had to do to end the struggle was to agree that in most respects man throughout the world shares the same aspirations and goals and the methods of achieving them are not that different.

The evening slipped by without much effort. Chewing on concentrated protein sticks washed down with mugs of coffee established a mood of closeness never before shared by the crew. They were bound together in the common secret of Henley Armstrong and their silent agreement to avoid any mention of him or his untimely death. As they wearied of the discussions which roamed from new forms of energy to a way to get the nations of the world to live in peace, slowly one by one they left the coziness of the flight deck and went to their cabins.

"I'll take over at 4 AM," said Carlo, as he left John Robins flying Airship Nobile on a heading of 280 degrees.

"I'll keep you company, John," said Helga, "Until Carlo and Michael relieve us."
Her offer to stay with him alone on the tactical deck brought a surge of energy to his groin. Being near attractive women always made that happen. It was the way his body told him he was still alive. The luminous dials of the instrument panel and the shielded dash lights bounced a diffused radiance off the glowing eyes of this beautiful woman. She smiled warmly as she spoke.

"I enjoyed our conversation tonight."

"Me too. Nice to hear what other people think about important issues. I didn't particularly like Carlo's comparing my President to Hitler, though."

"He didn't mean any harm by it, I'm sure. People say strange things when they just let their thoughts flow freely."

"Nicholas sure sounds like a hard liner."

"He is set in his ways. He is much like Dr. Chow. Both men spent their lives helping to establish a new system in their countries, and they are truly committed. They do not like to see the move towards western methods, based on capitalism and profit."

"In a way, I admire that," said John. "I've never felt really dedicated to anything until this mission came along."

"Not even when you were in Viet Nam?"

"That was different. There I was determined to get out alive."

"But you did fly two tours of operations in combat. I heard the others talking about it."

"Sounds great when you say it like that, but you had to be there. Korea was more of an air war than Viet Nam. In Nam I was pursued only twice. The rest of the time I shot hell out of trains or long lines of refugees...Christ, Helga...I don't like talking about it...Let's talk about you instead...What's this thing you've got going with the old man?"

"Don't be fooled by his age. Nicholas is an extremely virile man. He could put some of you boys to shame."

"Then it really is a physical thing with you two. The old guy actually turns you on."

"Not often...but very well when he desires."

"And you?...You're satisfied to wait for his monthly surges?"

Helga was relieved the lights were dim to conceal the colour rising in her beautiful face. No one had ever been as open with her before in talking about personal matters.

"There have been others...Nicholas understands."

"You mean you've told him?"

"A woman doesn't have to speak about things like that. When two people are close, they know without expressing it."

"How about Carlo? Have you made it with him yet?"

"Made it?...what is made it?"

"Have you made love together?"

"I don't know why I let you talk to me like this...but in answer to your question, no. We have not made love yet. But I really care for Carlo. He is a very desirable man."

"Has he refused?"

"You are being awfully personal, John."

"I'm sorry, Helga...Believe me, I don't wish to say anything to upset you. You're right. It's none of my business...I just thought you might want to talk to someone about it, that's all"

She touched him gently on the arm and squeezed it with a tenderness which let him know he should continue.

"You do like him a lot?"

"Yes I do...but I need more time. I don't believe in making it, as you say, with every man I meet. I have to care first. And I do care about Carlo."

"And me?...Do you care about me too?"

"Of course...I find you even more attractive than Carlo, but Sandra has laid claim to you."

The mention of Sandra's name caused his desire to pursue this lovely Russian associate to vanish as if a spell had been cast.

"Why did you say that?"

"She told me. Don't tell her I let you know. She loves you, John. This morning after the Henley thing she told me the whole story."

"Jesus...I told her not to tell anyone, and she promised she wouldn't."

"That's why I wanted to have this talk with you," she said. "Sandra is convinced she killed him and she is incapable of just forgetting the whole thing. You've got to help her."

"If she's told you, she'll tell the others...then what?"

"I don't think so. My being a woman, able to understand how such a tragedy could happen, gave her the courage to tell me."

She held onto John's hand and he felt her great strength passing through to him.
"I've been there myself," said Helga.

"I don't understand."

"My husband, Boris Tereschev...the long distance runner. We met in Montreal. A wonderful boy, handsome, dedicated to his vocation, a steady climber in the Party, but unfortunately insanely jealous. Much like Henley, from what Sandra has told me. Everyone thought we were the ideal couple."

"I remember now. The pictures in the Saigon paper. Your marriage got world coverage."

"True. My country makes good use of such publicity. Our relationship began to fall apart after only six months. My making personal appearance tours throughout Europe and Asia angered Boris. He saw pictures of me surrounded by enthusiastic admirers and he accused me of all kinds of vile things."

John found it hard to believe how remarkably parallel their lives were. "He insisted I leave sports and take up a respectable career. That was when I went to Moscow University to study electronics. He was content for awhile, but when I began to excel he tried again to interfere with my life. I would not permit it this time. He began drinking heavily and when he struck me in one of his violent rages, I left him. That was when dear Nicholas gave me so much support. He had lost his wife several years before, and I became the woman in his life."

"That's when you got your divorce?"

"Not right away. It was so difficult to find a place to live in Moscow after I left Boris. You can impose on your friends for only a brief time and soon you have no more friends. Nicholas asked me to move into his dacha where we could work undisturbed on the ionizer. I was desperate, John. Like yourself, it was a matter of survival. When I got my divorce, the world newspapers had another binge on my private life. Thank goodness Nicholas was entrenched enough to take the scandal and it finally worked out."

"And Boris...whatever happened to him?"

"Poor sad Boris. He hung himself from a beam in the locker room of the gymnasium where he used to work out."

"I don't remember reading about it."

"You wouldn't have. It's not the kind of thing my country is proud of."

How destructive jealousy could be had never been understood before by John. He did not consider himself to be the jealous type, but then he never allowed himself to be fully involved in a relationship. Now in his early forties, he still had the adolescent yearning for the conquest of many instead of the deep commitment of one.
They sat silently mulling over their exchange. Suddenly the south western sky exploded an orangey yellow.

"What's happening?" asked Helga, startled by the unexpected brilliance.

"Probably heat lightning. Hope we aren't in for another storm. Give Azores radio a call, and get me the latest forecast."

Helga changed channels to select the weather station on San Miguel Island.

"Azores radio, this is Airship Nobile, over."

"Roger Nobile. I copy you five square."

"Request latest weather for Azores region, over."

"Azores is zero zero...Heavy fog. Not expected to clear for twelve hours. Surface winds calm with inversion layer at about 4000 feet. Radar shows heavy precipitation at that altitude, with moderate rime icing."

"Doesn't look good," said John.

"Shall I wake the others?"

"Not yet." He turned on his weather radar and saw heavy cumulonimbus build up about sixty miles ahead, straddling the course of the Nobile.

"We've got another hour before we hit this stuff. Might as well let the others sleep until then."

The two continued silently watching the deteriorating conditions outside the pod. Helga grabbed John's arm when a strident bolt of lightning threatened to separate the pod from the gas bag.

"Jesus that was close. Looks like we're in for the same kind of night we had on our Norway trip. Gotta hand it to this old baby though, she sure can take a beating."

"John...I'm really frightened...are we going to make it?"

"Of course we are, sweetie...you and I are survivors."

The smashing of propeller ice against the rear of the crew pod jolted Carlo into consciousness as he sat bolt upright in his bunk. Blinding streaks of jagged charges reflected off the sterile walls of his cabin. Staggering out along the corridor, he collided with Michael who was also heading for the pilot's compartment.

"What the hell's happening?" asked Michael.

"That's what I want to find out."

A violent pitch to the starboard hurled them against the crew windows. Slipping to the floor as the balloon tried to right itself, they grabbed the guard rail, desperately hanging on until the craft stabilized again. As they made it to the tactical deck, Carlo saw blood coming out of a cut along the side of Helga's head. She was still conscious. The unrelenting squall picked up the Nobile again and threw it like a football, backwards onto the huge fans.

"Look after Helga," screamed John. "I've got my hands full."

Again, like some giant bronc, the Nobile pitched forward and veered to the right, throwing Carlo and Michael against the bulkhead.

"I'll be all right," shouted Helga. "Strap yourselves in before you get hurt like I did."
"She was going to wake you when a tremendous gust picked her out of her seat, and she banged against the astral compass. She caught the corner, on the side of her head."

The two crewmen managed to tighten the safety belts they had struggled into.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"My fault Carlo. I had no way of knowing we would be into it so quickly."

A drastic downwards thrust to their stomachs warned them the Nobile was now caught in a violent downdraught. The altimeter spun crazily as the blimp went from 4500 feet to 700 feet in less than a minute. As it levelled off it swirled in wide circles, continuing to hover just above the turbulent sea.

"Don't unfasten your belts yet."

John looked to Helga and saw the red stain on the left shoulder and breast of her crew suit. A few minutes of calm and he gave the signal to unfasten the belts.

"Quickly Carlo. Take control. Mike help me get Helga to her cabin, and Carlo get Andre on the intercom. Have him meet us there with his kit."

Carlo responded swiftly to John's orders, never giving a second thought to the fact that, for the moment, John had assumed command of the airship.

Gently the two men carried Helga to her cabin. Seconds later Andre rushed in, followed by the others. Nicholas was shocked.

"Helga. My poor darling. What has happened?"

After a cursory check Andre announced to the relief of the others, "It's very painful, but not too serious. It's a shallow cut. Looks worse than it is."
After cleaning the wound and spraying it with an antibiotic, he pulled the skin together and applied a clear plastic tape to take the place of stitches.

"A few days and you'll never know it happened."

Sandra ran into the room, the last to find out. She had gone first to the flight deck to check on John.

"Oh, Helga...what a shame. You poor dear."

"Dr. Goulet says it's not too serious." Andre smiled reassuringly.

"Your hair will cover the mark until it heals. It won't even spoil your good looks."

"Thank you Andre. Thanks, all of you. Now if you don't mind, would you please leave us, and maybe Sandra could help me clean up."

Nicholas kissed his young friend before leaving as they all returned to the pilot's compartment. Sandra closed the door to Helga's cabin and returned to her side.
"Does it hurt much?"

"Lots." She began to cry. "I couldn't let them see me like this."

"Get it all out, dear," said Sandra. "You'll feel better. "She held the young scientist's sobbing face against her robe. Like the others, she had not taken the time to dress. The heaving of the young woman's breasts as she wept stimulated Sandra. Instinctively her hand went gently to the stained breast and caressed it ever so subtly. The wound on her head had dripped onto her uniform.

"We'd better get this suit off and cleaned before that stain sets."

Helga, without replying, made a move to pull down the zipper. Sandra's hand gently prevented her. "Let me."

Slowly she unzipped the soiled crew suit and helped the injured Helga take her arms out of the sleeves. She wore nothing under the suit. Sandra let the back of her hand momentarily touch the stained nipple of Helga's left breast. The reaction was electric. She wrapped her arms around her friend and pressed her nude breasts against her soft robe.

"Oh, Sandra. I'm so glad you're here."

"Stop crying, my darling. I'll always be here if you need me."

In the pilot's compartment the others were trying to assess the damage. Liu confirmed that the energy cells checked out. They would now have an instrument indication if the cells separated from the Velcro platform as it did at Kalmar. Everything was satisfactory.

Michael reported from the rear of the craft, "The fans came through okay, Skipper. Even the ice has melted. I'd say we're damn lucky."

"Gawd...this is some ship. I've never been through anything like this before."

"Fantastic vessel," said Carlo. "I'm only sorry poor Helga was injured."

"Couldn't be helped. I called you on intercom but no one replied. Helga was only thinking of your safety. That's why she was heading back to warn you."

"Remarkable woman," said Nicholas. "That's the kind of courage that made her a champion."

Activating the navigation computer John saw that they were slightly east of the Azores.

"Thank God for modern science. Without that video we'd have no idea where we were."
Carlo called Azores radio and inquired again about the present state of the weather.

"Unchanged, Nobile. Still socked in."

"We're between layers at 9500 feet. We had frontal passage at 0430 hours, 20 miles west of San Miguel."

"Roger, Nobile. Radar reports you had a drastic altitude change about a half hour ago. Is everything okay?"

"Affirmative, Azores. That's the way it is with balloons. We're back on course. Expect to cross 50 degrees north at the north west tip of Newfoundland by this time tomorrow. Thank you for your help. Nobile out."

Carlo looked at the exhausted John Robins.

"You did a great job again, John. You're sure a guy who can handle stress. I admire that. Now go and get some rest. Michael and I have control. All of you better return to your cabins."

John appreciated Carlo's praise. His opinion of the young Italian Commander had changed as he saw him grow with the added responsibility of the mission.

"Take care, fellows. Should be clear for awhile. No CBs on the radar. Thanks, Carlo, for your comments. You'll never know how much I needed that."

He walked wearily along the corridor, pausing outside Helga's cabin which was next to his. Quietly he opened the door and Sandra who was sitting on the edge of the bunk in which the injured girl lay asleep, cautioned him with her finger touching her lips. He smiled and went to his cabin where he dropped bone tired on his bunk.
In a few minutes, he experienced again the same nightmare which had been haunting him since those terrible years in Viet Nam. He was back in the jungle of south east Asia, his jet whistling through the openings along the Ho Chi Minh trail blasting anything and everything that moved. A water buffalo with a child on its back thrust up out of the rice paddy staining red the water around the feet of the peasants who worked the fields. They were inured to the daily dangers confronting them.
Suddenly, as large as life, he saw the face of the olive eyed child, blood running down its naked body, mingling with that of the beast of burden. It was always the same nightmare; the unseen enemy was given a face, and it was always the face of a young child whom he had just ripped to pieces.

"Jesus, no...no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill him."

His nightmarish screams brought Sandra running to his cabin.
"John...darling, what is it? What's wrong? Look at you. You're sweating and shouting."

"Good God. Will I ever be able to forget that goddamn war?"

"My poor Johnny."

Sandra held him tightly, kissing his wet face, tasting the salt of his fear. She enjoyed being close to people who needed her. Her touching helped her to take on some of their pain and she wanted to be a part of them.

"I'll be okay now. Thanks for coming, Sandy...I hope I didn't wake Helga."

"She's going to be fine. She's sleeping like a baby now."

"Wish I could sleep like that."

Sandra hesitated, studying the crumpled crew suit. "A shower would make you feel better. It'll only take a few minutes. Let me get it ready for you."

As she left him, her robe slid softly to the floor, and in the dim light of his cabin he saw the taut thighs of this wonderful woman as she prepared his shower. He was getting that feeling again. He heard the water running. Slipping off his flight suit, he draped a towel around himself and went into the cubicle. Sandra's tanned nakedness glistened under the warm pelting of the shower. She grabbed his towel and flung it onto the floor outside the cubicle.

Using a soft liquid, akin to sperm in texture, she coated his body and lathered the firm muscles of his back, thighs and groin. The firmness of her touch sent tingling sensations through his entire being.

"I love you, John. ..I need you...I want you."

Her firm hand reached for him and he pressed closely to her damp moistness and sunk into her voluptuously pliant body, two in one flesh.

"My God you're wonderful," said John, fondling the resilient flesh of her teasing breasts, the rhythm of their loving in synch with the throbbing of the shower massage. Her hungry mouth devoured him while the rest of her sapped his desire. It had been a volcano erupting and lava oozed down her thighs.

"Each time it gets better," said Sandra, patting her lover's exhausted body with a thick towel.

"I'll never get enough of you," he said as he finished drying her. His hands fondled the rippling flesh that had given him so much satisfaction just minutes before. He admired the downy mound, its lips pursed for kissing and he buried his head into its curly mass.

"Oh...John...John. That feels so good."

She pressed his head against her and his tongue darted outwards searching for the pleasure nub he knew was there. She dropped onto his bunk and her tawny legs opened to him again. This time they made it last. Her body tightened around his and milked the last drops of his passion with a skill he had never experienced before, not even with the crib girls in Saigon. He felt like all his energy was flowing into her through the tiny eye in his erection, and he didn't want to hold back even the smallest drop. His orgasm exploded and her gasps of excitement and the frantic breathing that followed convinced him there was no sham here.

"I love you so much, Sandra. I want to be with you always."

"You're a wonderful lover, my sweet. I love you too, Johnny, but I should go back to my cabin."

"Stay...please stay. I want to feel you beside me. I want to fall asleep in your arms."

"But the others."

"Forget the others. They're going to have to know sooner or later. I just don't want you to leave me now...please Sandy."

"For awhile. But you need your rest. I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"I may never sleep again."

He wrapped his arm around her as she nuzzled, spoon fashion, enjoying the way their bodies conformed. In ten minutes he was lost in the sleep of the just. No nightmares this time. Sandra quietly left his embrace and returned to her cabin.

View the original art of William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com