in that position, I’d guess,” said Brennan confidently. “This land area suffered some peculiar ups and downs, seas, sediments, deserts—but my guess is we stay in the same geographic longitude and latitude coordinates.”
“That seems reasonable,” confirmed Pomfret.
Charlie clicked and whirred. We took that for assent.
The girls nodded together. So far, I felt with reasonable confidence and relief, they had behaved remarkably well. What they would do when we landed and took on Khamushkei the Undying at close quarters remained to be seen.
Charlie broke in. “A break in the clouds ahead.”
None of us had had the temerity to suggest we dive down through the clouds.
They probably extended right down to ground level.
When Charlie guided the plane down through the bulging cloud-cliffed break we saw that guess had been correct: like piles of candy floss, the clouds rose from the ground. We could see the billowing inner movements and the trailing wisps, creamy and pink from this angle. Then we looked at the ground.
“I’ve given up saying I don’t believe it,” said Brennan, with a stifled bark of laughter. “I suppose this time we’re in now must have been before the desert swept in and covered everything.”
Below us now lay a patchwork quilt of fields and meadows, trees and trickling watercourses. I looked quickly for a sight of a city or of any human habitation, for the very regularity of the fields indicated human husbandry and agriculture. The different shades of green down there came very restfully to my eyes after the brutal granitic grays and the featureless silver of the clouds.
“You must be right, Hall.” Pomfret shifted around to look downward better. “I don’t see any people . . He finished speaking doubtfully. We all knew what he meant.
Ahead of us the other side of the cloud break moved ponderously forward, this bank of clouds, we could see, not reaching all the way down to the ground. We could just make out the rain pouring down from the cloud base. The sunshine cut a sharp swathe of brilliance between the two cloud masses. A few birds pirouetted in the gulf.
Then, surprising us all, a small airplane drifted from the rain and slanted down to a landing on a narrow field. We stared at the plane. Bright orange in color, With dragonfly wings that blurred with speed, it held for a moment a magical jeweled quality.
“I’ve never seen a ship like that before,” Brennan spoke with the complete authority of the experienced aviator.
The insect-like wings blurred and then slowed and stopped. The plane touched down. Three men and a woman alighted and stood looking up at us. We could just make out the white dots of their faces, upturned to the sun.
“They’re as puzzled as we are.”
“I don’t like the idea of this,” said Phoebe, the conviction in her voice making us all look quickly at her before we returned our stares to the ground. “This is supposed to be back in the past a long way. Yet there is an airplane, of a type we all know perfectly well has never been developed by any aircraft company we can think of;"
“Orn ithopters have been built,” Brennan said harshly.
“But that’s not an o rn ithopter. Not in the strict sense of the word.”
Pomfret said slowly, “That’s all very true. But what are we to do? That other bank of cloud is coming up fast. We may not hit another break in the overcast. . . .”
The type of decision with which we had to deal and the problems associated with those decisions were not the big tiger-hunt terrors—at least, not for the moment— but the more deadly apparently trivial decisions. Should we land? If we didn’t we could fly on into the deck.
“I vote for going down,” I said as smoothly as I could.
The plane began a gentle descent. Charlie, too, shared our reading of the situation.
“We’d better be ready for anything from these people; but start out by hoping they’ll be friendly.” Brennan clearly didn’t like this
“That seems reasonable,” confirmed Pomfret.
Charlie clicked and whirred. We took that for assent.
The girls nodded together. So far, I felt with reasonable confidence and relief, they had behaved remarkably well. What they would do when we landed and took on Khamushkei the Undying at close quarters remained to be seen.
Charlie broke in. “A break in the clouds ahead.”
None of us had had the temerity to suggest we dive down through the clouds.
They probably extended right down to ground level.
When Charlie guided the plane down through the bulging cloud-cliffed break we saw that guess had been correct: like piles of candy floss, the clouds rose from the ground. We could see the billowing inner movements and the trailing wisps, creamy and pink from this angle. Then we looked at the ground.
“I’ve given up saying I don’t believe it,” said Brennan, with a stifled bark of laughter. “I suppose this time we’re in now must have been before the desert swept in and covered everything.”
Below us now lay a patchwork quilt of fields and meadows, trees and trickling watercourses. I looked quickly for a sight of a city or of any human habitation, for the very regularity of the fields indicated human husbandry and agriculture. The different shades of green down there came very restfully to my eyes after the brutal granitic grays and the featureless silver of the clouds.
“You must be right, Hall.” Pomfret shifted around to look downward better. “I don’t see any people . . He finished speaking doubtfully. We all knew what he meant.
Ahead of us the other side of the cloud break moved ponderously forward, this bank of clouds, we could see, not reaching all the way down to the ground. We could just make out the rain pouring down from the cloud base. The sunshine cut a sharp swathe of brilliance between the two cloud masses. A few birds pirouetted in the gulf.
Then, surprising us all, a small airplane drifted from the rain and slanted down to a landing on a narrow field. We stared at the plane. Bright orange in color, With dragonfly wings that blurred with speed, it held for a moment a magical jeweled quality.
“I’ve never seen a ship like that before,” Brennan spoke with the complete authority of the experienced aviator.
The insect-like wings blurred and then slowed and stopped. The plane touched down. Three men and a woman alighted and stood looking up at us. We could just make out the white dots of their faces, upturned to the sun.
“They’re as puzzled as we are.”
“I don’t like the idea of this,” said Phoebe, the conviction in her voice making us all look quickly at her before we returned our stares to the ground. “This is supposed to be back in the past a long way. Yet there is an airplane, of a type we all know perfectly well has never been developed by any aircraft company we can think of;"
“Orn ithopters have been built,” Brennan said harshly.
“But that’s not an o rn ithopter. Not in the strict sense of the word.”
Pomfret said slowly, “That’s all very true. But what are we to do? That other bank of cloud is coming up fast. We may not hit another break in the overcast. . . .”
The type of decision with which we had to deal and the problems associated with those decisions were not the big tiger-hunt terrors—at least, not for the moment— but the more deadly apparently trivial decisions. Should we land? If we didn’t we could fly on into the deck.
“I vote for going down,” I said as smoothly as I could.
The plane began a gentle descent. Charlie, too, shared our reading of the situation.
“We’d better be ready for anything from these people; but start out by hoping they’ll be friendly.” Brennan clearly didn’t like this
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