Read Online A Company of Heroes Book Two: The Fabulist by Ron Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Miller
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mean that thing you saw in the sky?”
“Don’t be obtuse!”
“Do you think,” says the baron, turning to the professor, “that we might examine an aerostat? The princess has a special interest in them.”
“What’s an aerostat?” she asks.
“I don’t see why not,” the doctor answers, “though it’s some distance from here, just beyond that copse. If the princess would really find that interesting?” he adds doubtfully.
“Of course she would!” the baron answers for her.
“Ah, well,” sighs the professor.
It takes less than fifteen minutes to regain the ground level of the institute and another fifteen to walk to the far side of the small woods. It is a pleasant stroll along a path shaded by the fragrant trees. It leads them to a large, unusually shaped building. Made entirely of wood, it looks very much like half a barrel laid on its side. It is perhaps fifty or sixty feet in height and twice that in breadth and length. One semicircular façade faces a broad, flat, open area, something like a playing field. Along one side of this is a mountain of fat metallic cylinders, hundreds of them, all interconnected with rubber pipes.
At the far end of the field a group of men are busy with what looked like a brown canvas dome. This seems curiously unstable, bobbing and swaying lazily like a ship at its moorings.
As they approach the big building, a pair of enormous doors are sliding open, revealing a cavernous interior. Bronwyn shades her eyes from the sun, and can see that there is something nearly filling the vast, dark space. Something huge, grey and bulky. There is some peculiar quality about the shape that gives Bronwyn the unsettling feeling that she is looking at something alive . The great thing hung there like a captive whale, aloof and full of thought.
There had been little to give away the true scale of either the building or its contents until they drew close enough to see the men who busied themselves in the shadows beneath the looming curve of the whale-like thing.
“Princess!” says Thud, suddenly. “What’s that?”
“What?” she replies, turning to see what had surprised her friend. Where the brown canvas dome had been there is now a huge sphere, exactly like the one she had seen the day before, except that this one is as big as a house. It is hovering without any apparent support fifteen or twenty feet above the earth. She then notices that it is being restrained by dozens of ropes; the big globe is swaying gently to and fro, as though anxious to get away.
“All right,” she says, confronting the baron. “What is that?”
“That’s an aerostat,” he replies.
“That tells me a lot.”
“It’s very simple. That enormous bag is filled with a gas that is less dense than an equal volume of air. Being lighter than the air around it, it goes up. It’s so light, in fact, that it has enough lift left over to carry things along. See that little basket beneath it?”
There is indeed a small, wicker basket, like a large picnic hamper, that she had overlooked. It is attached to the globe by an arrangement of ropes. In the basket are three men.
“When the aerostat is released, it will rise, carrying that basket and the men with it.”
“Look!” she cries. The handlers had released their captive and as silently as a cloud or a passing thought, the great sphere is drifting away from the earth. It is the most uncanny thing she has ever seen. It quickly climbs past the treetops surrounding the field, its passengers already tiny figures, waving gaily to the gesticulating ground crew.
“Oh, Thud!” she whispers, inexplicable tears welling behind her eyelids.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he replies.
“Oh, yes !”
“Hello!” comes a voice from behind them. “May I help you? Oh! Good morning, Professor Wittenoom!”
Bronwyn turns to see the professor shaking hands with a man of medium height, stockily built . . . his muscular figure belying his bristling grey hair
“Don’t be obtuse!”
“Do you think,” says the baron, turning to the professor, “that we might examine an aerostat? The princess has a special interest in them.”
“What’s an aerostat?” she asks.
“I don’t see why not,” the doctor answers, “though it’s some distance from here, just beyond that copse. If the princess would really find that interesting?” he adds doubtfully.
“Of course she would!” the baron answers for her.
“Ah, well,” sighs the professor.
It takes less than fifteen minutes to regain the ground level of the institute and another fifteen to walk to the far side of the small woods. It is a pleasant stroll along a path shaded by the fragrant trees. It leads them to a large, unusually shaped building. Made entirely of wood, it looks very much like half a barrel laid on its side. It is perhaps fifty or sixty feet in height and twice that in breadth and length. One semicircular façade faces a broad, flat, open area, something like a playing field. Along one side of this is a mountain of fat metallic cylinders, hundreds of them, all interconnected with rubber pipes.
At the far end of the field a group of men are busy with what looked like a brown canvas dome. This seems curiously unstable, bobbing and swaying lazily like a ship at its moorings.
As they approach the big building, a pair of enormous doors are sliding open, revealing a cavernous interior. Bronwyn shades her eyes from the sun, and can see that there is something nearly filling the vast, dark space. Something huge, grey and bulky. There is some peculiar quality about the shape that gives Bronwyn the unsettling feeling that she is looking at something alive . The great thing hung there like a captive whale, aloof and full of thought.
There had been little to give away the true scale of either the building or its contents until they drew close enough to see the men who busied themselves in the shadows beneath the looming curve of the whale-like thing.
“Princess!” says Thud, suddenly. “What’s that?”
“What?” she replies, turning to see what had surprised her friend. Where the brown canvas dome had been there is now a huge sphere, exactly like the one she had seen the day before, except that this one is as big as a house. It is hovering without any apparent support fifteen or twenty feet above the earth. She then notices that it is being restrained by dozens of ropes; the big globe is swaying gently to and fro, as though anxious to get away.
“All right,” she says, confronting the baron. “What is that?”
“That’s an aerostat,” he replies.
“That tells me a lot.”
“It’s very simple. That enormous bag is filled with a gas that is less dense than an equal volume of air. Being lighter than the air around it, it goes up. It’s so light, in fact, that it has enough lift left over to carry things along. See that little basket beneath it?”
There is indeed a small, wicker basket, like a large picnic hamper, that she had overlooked. It is attached to the globe by an arrangement of ropes. In the basket are three men.
“When the aerostat is released, it will rise, carrying that basket and the men with it.”
“Look!” she cries. The handlers had released their captive and as silently as a cloud or a passing thought, the great sphere is drifting away from the earth. It is the most uncanny thing she has ever seen. It quickly climbs past the treetops surrounding the field, its passengers already tiny figures, waving gaily to the gesticulating ground crew.
“Oh, Thud!” she whispers, inexplicable tears welling behind her eyelids.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he replies.
“Oh, yes !”
“Hello!” comes a voice from behind them. “May I help you? Oh! Good morning, Professor Wittenoom!”
Bronwyn turns to see the professor shaking hands with a man of medium height, stockily built . . . his muscular figure belying his bristling grey hair
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