The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers by Alan Dean Foster
A ship caught in the open and overtaken by the rolling storm front of a rifs had one chance and one only to survive. That lay in adjusting the amount of sail and turning about to run directly before the wind, praying that sails, masts, and crew held together long enough for the storm to pass over.
Once before the Slanderscree had done that and survived, battered and bruised. Attempting it a second time would involve tempting whatever fate had thus far watched over her. Even if they tried it and managed to ride out the storm, it would shove them, probably damaged and unstable, far off their chosen course. The planet itself seemed to be conspiring to keep them from reaching their destination.
Ideally they would make it through the pressure ridge, put on all sail, and fly southward beyond the storm’s reach. Ideally. Ideally, Ethan thought, they would have ignored regulations and smuggled along a few explosive devices with which to blast their way through the barrier. No time left now for what-ifs and maybes.
They had no explosives, no beamers, no appropriate modern technology. All they did have, they realized as they took stock of their resources, was a lot of muscle and determination. That would suffice to chop a path through the ice ridge. In weeks. They needed to break through within forty-eight hours.
What sophisticated scientific instrumentation they did have consisted largely of devices for measuring and calibrating and weighing, not for concentrating brute force on a specific area. A pair of drills designed to take core samples from the ice would help. A hundred such drills would be needed to accomplish their ends. The drills could melt some ice but not nearly enough fast enough.
The alternate solution did not occur to the Tran because as Tran they would never have conceived of something like it. For once the obvious was voiced by Skua September and not Williams.
“It’s pretty damn clear to me that since we can’t go through this stuff we have to go over it.”
Ethan added his own expression to the sea of astonishment that greeted this blithe observation.
VII
“ARE YOU PROPOSING,” WILLIAMS said finally, “to turn the Slanderscree into an aircraft?”
September didn’t bat an eye. “Something like that.”
Since September was considering it semiseriously, the teacher did likewise. “Even if we could pack on sufficient sail the wind isn’t strong enough.”
“Funny, that is.” September looked thoughtful. “Though with a rifs behind us and enough sail I wouldn’t be surprised if we could get the ol’ scow airborne. Controlling her would be something else again.” He glanced past Williams until he found Snyek. “Going to need those coring drills you mentioned. Have to melt some ice and then let it refreeze.”
“What in heaven’s name for?” Hwang demanded to know.
September grinned at her. “Your corers aren’t big enough or powerful enough to melt half a path through that ridge, but we can use them to take the sharp edges off, if you know what I mean. Some of those ancient ice blocks that form the ridge are pretty big and pretty solid. If we could just sort of melt them together and even them out, doing the fine work with ice picks and axes, why, we might end up with something.”
“Like what?”
His eyes twinkled and he turned his grin back on Williams. “Like a ramp.” He let them mull that thought over, then continued. “See, we form and shape this big ramp out of ice using the coring drills and hand tools, ran it right to the crest of the pressure ridge. Then we back the Slanderscree off a fair ways”—-he illustrated the necessary maneuvers with great sweeps and twists of his long arms—“as far to the west as required, put on all sail, and bring her in to the ridge at an angle with the wind strong behind us.
“We go up that ramp,” he said as he slid one palm sharply against the other, “and over the top. That’s it, we’re through. We don’t have to cut through the damn ridge, all we have to do is go over it.” He coughed into a closed palm. “And make a respectable landing on the other side, of course. One thing about ice: It may be sharp-edged and cold and uncomfortable, but as long as you’ve got some tools, good cold weather, and a heat source or two you can sculpture it as easy as you would a bar of soap.”
His companions’ response was underwhelming. “I would prefer to transit the ridge another way,” Williams said finally.
“So would I.” This from a doubtful Ta-hoding. “I find your thoughts intriguing but impractical, friend Skua. As you have said, the critical problem is one of velocity.”
“Are you kidding? The Slanderscree only put on all her sail once or twice. You know how fast she could go.”
“On the level ice, yes,” the captain admitted, “but uphill? Such a thing has never been done in a large ship. It is a maneuver left for sport, on chiv or in a very small light craft.”
September looked at Hwang. “Run some calculations. Mass and velocity, wind speed—let’s find out if it’s theoretically possible, at least. We can make the ramp as graduated, as long as necessary.”
“Not too long.” Ta-hoding the sailor had an excellent grasp of elementary geometry, not to mention the physical capabilities of his crew. “We have only so much time.”
“We’ll manage,” said September impatiently. “We’ll do whatever we have to do. I’m sure we can gain the necessary speed and hold the ramp.”
“That is not what troubles me.” All eyes turned to Hunnar Redbeard. “Let me see if I understand this novel sky-people notion.” He employed his arms and paws in rough imitation of September’s aerodynamic gestures. “We retreat a certain distance, put on all sail, and catch the wind full behind us.”
“That’s it, that’s right,” said September excitedly.
“We sail up this ramp you propose to construct”—he raised one paw skyward—”and launch ourselves over the top of the bent ocean with enough force to carry us across the far side of the barrier and onto the navigable ice on the southern side.”
September looked pleased. “You’ve got it, Hunnar.”
“I have no doubt we can attain the required speed, and I believe it may be possible to maintain enough control at that speed to sail up this ramp. Yet I worry still.”
“About what?”
“The Slanderscree is a large, heavy ship. It was designed to chiv”—and he made a shoving gesture with his right paw—“across solid ice. It is a strong vessel and many times have we learned the strength of the wondrous metal we cut from your small ship to fashion the great runners and their braces. Still, for all it has accomplished and all it has survived, it was not designed to be dropped from a considerable height.” He stared at September.
“If all goes as you plan and we overfly the Bent Ocean, what will happen to us when we strike the unyielding ice on the far side? The ocean will not break. That is something that cannot be said of the Slanderscree. What would it profit us to cross the barrier if we destroy our ship in the process?”
“That’s one thing I don’t have any way of predicting,” September replied somberly, “and despite all their instruments and learning, I don’t think Williams and his friends do either.”
“The ship’s whole weight will come down on the bow runners, then the stern and the rudder,” Ethan murmured. “If we try this, and I don’t have any better idea, we need to pull everything out of storage that can be used for padding. Spare clothing, extra pika-pina rigging, everything we’ve got. If we cram it all between the runners and their braces, it’ll help absorb the shock.”
“That’s the spirit, feller-me-lad!”
“Those braces can only cope with a certain amount of shock,” Ta-hoding reminded them.
“They’re duralloy from the skin and guts of a lifeboat,” September said. “So are the bolts and sheet bracing. The woodwork’s the product of Wannome’s finest carpenters and shipwrights. Even if we do bust a brace or two we can still rig something temporary to hold the runners in place until we can get the ship back to a repair yard.”
“If only it were that simple.” Ta-hoding gestured toward the
For a moment or so only the wind talked. Then Ethan spoke up quietly. “Doesn’t look like we have much choice. We’re much too far from Poyolavomaar or any other known shelter to try to make it to safety before the storm hits. If we sit around and wait for it, we’ll be in real trouble. If we try and outrun it and it overtakes us, it’ll blow us so far off course we might as well go back to Poyo and start over again.”
“Might we not find shelter in the lee of an island?” Elfa wondered.
Ta-hoding shook his head. “We’ve seen none that would be suitable.”
“Then Ethan and Skua are right. We must try this.”
Hunnar looked sharply at his new mate. “I always knew you to be conservative. Have we spent too much time among the skypeople?”
She put two fingers to his lips, letting him feel the claws. “Not that. In your company I would dare anything, lifemate.”
Hunnar let out an appreciative hiss. “Whatever the daughter of the Landgrave dares, can I dare less?”
She withdrew her hand, turned to face Ta-hoding. “Royalty does not command the ice. This is your dominion, your ship. The final decision rests with you. You know what the icerigger is capable of better than anyone else. What are our chances of surviving such a mad enterprise?”
Ta-hoding sighed deeply, executed an intricate gesture with the fingers of his right hand. Fifty-fifty. Ethan had hoped for better odds.
“One is ready to risk all, the other tells me nothing,” Hunnar grumbled. Cat’s eyes turned on Ethan. “What think you, my friend?”
“Why ask me? I’m just a passenger on this boat. I have no authority here. Why don’t you ask Milliken?”
“Because you are no adventurer, by your admission. Because you and not friend Milliken are a counterweight to tall Skua’s opinion. You are cautious where he is rash. You consider where he dares.”
“Well, in the absence of a better alternative I’d have to say that you don’t get anywhere in life without taking a chance now and then. I admit we’ve taken our share, this past year, but that doesn’t alter the situation we’re facing now. That’s all easy for me to say. It’s not my ship.”
“No, but it is your life,” Elfa pointed out.
“Let us do this.” Ta-hoding spoke without looking at. them, already making preparations in his mind. “Everyone who is not a member of the sailing crew will disembark and cross the Bent Ocean on foot, to wait for us on the other side. That way if catastrophe strikes not all will be at risk.”
“Then you have decided,” Hunnar murmured.
“Boldness is not in me. I play only the dice that are given to me. Here we must roll as best we are able and hope for a twelve to show itself. If I cannot have confidence in my ship and my crew, what is left to me?”
“So it is to be tried.” Hunnar could not bring himself to show false confidence. “I wish there was another way. Were there, we would not be proceeding with this insanity.” He turned to Hwang. “My soldiers will work side by side with you to shape the ice. You will choose the angle of the ramp and instruct us accordingly.” He stood. “Now that we have determined our course of action let us move quickly. The sooner we begin, the sooner we will be finished.”
“And the harder we work,” Elfa added, “the less time we will have to think about what we are really going to attempt.”
Blue sky had given way to roiling blackness on the eastern horizon by the time the ramp was ready. Like questing scouts, the first gusts of wind from the advancing storm front slammed into the steady west wind, sending confused air swirling in all directions. Ice devils, miniature whirlwinds composed of ice particles, danced crazily across the flat surface of the frozen ocean. Occasionally one would stumble into the workers, forcing them to drop their tools and hug the ground. One caught Ethan with his visor up and brought tears to his eyes. It was like being battered by cold sand.
Jacalan and Blanchard shut down the two overworked drills and joined the rest of the refugees in slipping and sliding down the south flank of the pressure ridge. Ethan and September hung back, settling themselves in the shelter of a huge upturned ice block. Someone had to watch, Ethan told himself.
Like the approach to a giant’s castle a long, relatively smooth ramp had been hacked and melted out of the ridge’s north slope. The scientists and Hunnar’s soldiers had done their work well. How well there was no way of telling until the icerigger actually attempted its run.
Everyone knew that if the ramp collapsed while the Slanderscree was making its climb, the great ship would be imprisoned on the ridge. Then they would be well and truly trapped in this isolated region, far from human or Tran civilization. They’d built as solidly as possible, given the limited amount of time and equipment at their disposal. Semkin had supervised the work with the drills, making sure that all the gaps between the massive ice blocks had been filled and sealed.
At last there was nothing left to do but to do it.
A glance to his right showed figures standing and waiting on the southern ice sheet: the icerigger’s fighters and the members of the research team. Only Hunnar and Elfa had joined Ethan and September atop the ridge. With the wind whipping his fur Hunnar stood tall and straight as one of the icy spires surrounding them. He shaded his eyes with his right hand.
“I can barely see the ship.” Ethan squinted and looked northward but saw no sign of the Slanderscree. That would change shortly, he knew. “They are putting on sail. Ta-hoding has the spars turned into the wind. Ah, now they are being adjusted. The sails fill. She comes.”
They waited. A few minutes later both men could make out the sleek arrowhead shape of the icerigger racing toward the ridge at high speed. Ethan was startled to realize that this was the first time he’d actually seen the ship under full sail and from a distance. For a hybrid cobbled together from a schoolteacher’s memory it was quite beautiful. There was none of the ungainliness one might have expected, though the absence of a curving hull was disconcerting. The underside of the icerigger was perfectly flat, since there was no water for it to cut through.
“Wish Ta-hoding had given better than an even chance,” he muttered.
September had his visor up so it wouldn’t interfere with his view. “Hell, young feller-me-lad, that’s better odds than life gives most of us.”
Ethan turned his attention eastward. Lightning split clouds black as coal dust. “When will the rifs get here?”
Hunnar Redbeard looked down at him, then turned to face the oncoming storm. “Soon, but not so soon as it might. A bad storm, very bad, but I think it may be moving slightly to the northwest instead of due west. We have been gifted with a few precious additional hours of manageable weather. If it continues to turn, it is possible it might miss us entirely. A havlak full of irony there would be in that!”
“It might also not miss us,” Elfa put in. “And if we do not do this thing we will be no better than where we were before the storm was sighted. We must still cross the Bent Ocean. Now is not the time for hesitation.”
“I was not hesitating, my love. Ethan asked my thoughts.”
“Here she comes!” September roared, bending slightly and pointing. “I swear Ta-hoding’s got his clothes on the line trying to coax another tenth of a kph out of the west wind.”
Ethan found he had to lift his own visor in order to see properly. Cold stung his exposed skin, pins on his cheeks. The icerigger seemed to be accelerating with every extra meter of ice it crossed. Five rooster tails of ice particles flew from the base of each duralloy runner as it cut across the flat surface. When it was half a kilometer from the pressure ridge, Ethan guessed its velocity at between a hundred and fifty and a hundred seve
The captain must have shouted a command because as they looked on the adjustable spars suddenly pivoted. Heeling over on both port runners like a skater fighting to maintain his balance, the great ship swung sharply southward. The maneuver might have cost her a little speed.
Old instincts made Ethan crouch in anticipation. If the icerigger hit the ramp at the wrong angle, it could fly off in any direction, including straight toward them. Hunnar and Elfa likewise sought shelter. Only September held his ground, looking like some misplaced sculpture in his silvery survival suit.
On board the Slanderscree those sailors who weren’t trimming the spars reached for something solid and gritted their teeth. Ta-hoding and his helmsman clung to the wheel. Driven by the full force of the west wind the icerigger reached the base of the ice ramp and came rocketing upward, looking for all the world like some alien version of the Flying Dutchman about to sail off into the sky against the wind.
As it ascended it slowed perceptibly. Ethan found himself urging it onward, trying to lift it the extra thirty, twenty, finally ten meters toward the top. His help was not required.
Still traveling at upward of a hundred kph, the Slanderscree shot off the top of the ramp and over the crest of the pressure ridge. For an instant it seemed to hang in the air, frozen as if by some cosmic artist. Then it began to descend in a slow, graceful curve.
Hunnar and Elfa rose, while down on the southern ice sheet soldiers and human scientists watched breathlessly as the icerigger came soaring toward them. For a brief moment it was a ship not of the ice but the air, a visitor from a long-forgotten legend. The beauty of those few seconds impressed itself strongly on all who witnessed it. None would forget it.