Chapter 6: Surface World, Clammy Airways

From the command center on the Amera’s bridge, Captain Gydlin plugged into a mind-link and tapped a nearby point in the air. The ship started descending, retracting and storing the charging cables during the process.

Without a link, Bjorn could not follow his father’s purposes, but he had read the working of air-ships in school. Electricity generated from wind turbines and frequent lightning clashes within Cloud charged a great bank of batteries located at the city's base near Mother Tree’s primary Kabutar trunk. From this source, air-ships, technology, and other machinery drew power. Hot air in balloons kept the wooden ships aloft, and a compressor expansion chamber in the vessel heated the air. Ballast blades and cool air intakes controlled rise or fall.

Just in time, they were away from Mother Tree and Cloud. Back in Kabutar, a slow rain started falling.

“Enjoy the view,” the Captain said. “You are free to roam.” He twitched his left pectoral fin, and an older officer stepped near. “Third Officer, Hykin, is your guide and protector. He will answer questions and ensure you don’t get into a jam.”

Hykin glanced down into Bjorn’s face. His twisted smile reflected boredom, and his gaze lacked any trace of humor. Hykin was an old dry-face, wrinkled, slow, and maybe short on oxygen intake.

Bjorn rolled his caudal fin. “Let’s do this.” He dismissed himself from the bridge and headed toward the nearest outer deck railing. Stiff-necked and perfect postured, Hykin didn’t look very capable as a fighter. On the plus side, he might be an excessive hindrance.

Within moments, Bjorn perceived something unexpected. Out in the open southern sky and without a Mother Tree, large, ominous globs of moisture accumulated as if a miniature replica of Cloud when filled with thunder and lightning. Some of the droplets fell through open-air and vanished into the void between Cloud and the surface world. Resisting thoughts of heresy, Bjorn determined these minor vapors an extended outreach of Cloud.

The storms were limited to the south and presented no local problems. The overhead sun remained a moisture-sucking globe of light, heat, and radiation held at bay by the reflective surface of the Rand Solar shielding system. Everywhere the horizontal viewpoint remained unhindered by the minor accumulations of moisture, the sky displayed an array of bluish tones overwhelmed by the natural light prism.

Although Bjorn’s heart thumped like never before, he focused on the protective qualities of his HB mantle and maintained self-control. He had read of such phenomena, both in science and religion. The vision before his eyes presented a different kind of argument. Life beyond Cloud and Mother Tree involved space without end and light without limitations.

Rather than risk optic injury, he set his gaze toward the surface world. The blended and textured canvas began shifting into a definitive landscape overshadowed by a generous scattering of Cloud’s offspring. How else could such vapors exist?

The eastern mountains came into view, followed by string bean trees and thread rivers, all expanding by the moment. The far west lay ravaged by massive barren strips that fit the textbook description of an irradiated wasteland. White covered some of the northern mountains and part of the high-range trees. Snow, they called it, a cold puff of grit encased in frozen moisture. Small clustering pebbles scattered over much of the land, but huge invasive lumps of rock also smashed up from beneath the grass, dirt, and even the lakes.

Down south over the broader waters, storm and wind swirled the vapors and sea alike, moving in the circular patterns of the scrub brushes used to clean smoke tanks.

To the northeast, smoke and mist rose in drifting columns from various valleys and beside the lakes and rivers. Strange and exciting scents and odors shifted through the air with a focus near the areas of mist. Yet, for the most part, even the unknown aromas were dry as though dulled down by lack of moisture in the air. Below smelled and tasted deficient in texture and nutrition. From the darker columns of smoke came the alarming reek of burning wood. These beings lived without reverence for Mother Tree.

As they descended deeper into Below, the western wasteland became more evident. Punctuated by dwarfed trees, bristle brush, and yellowed grass, the wastelands withered into pure bleakness. The image brought to mind, on a much-expanded scale, the yellowed regions of Mother Tree—places where caddisflies failed to breed. Far away at the blend of joined horizons, the sky stooped and kissed the lips of destruction. This barren dumping ground was the remnant of a long-forgotten war, the horror of Below.

When looking down from Cloud, Below was a smear of distant grease. The soil beneath Mother Tree spread wide, and the reach of Her branches extended from edge to edge. The floating cities remained isolated from Below. Even sun-dippers, if they existed, would not see so deep into the shadows. “Yet I see it all,” Bjorn whispered.

Some people believed Cloud a purposeful effort to prevent surface dwellers from seeing the floating nests, a sensible ploy that reduced envy among the land dwellers, often called Walkers. Others spoke of the Great War, the battle that ended when grounders via genetic alternation enabled civilization to survive within the heart of Cloud. Text books provided both explanations.

Bjorn knew not what to believe. The joy of the moment limited his inquisitive mind. The images before his eyes exceeded all expectations. Wild beasts roamed the mountains, deserts, and forests. History recorded multiple unprovoked attacks from creatures indescribable.

Furthermore, Walkers practiced dark ways and savage rituals. Even now, the ship was coming into range of strange sounds. Some of the far southern mountains rumbled in deep vibrating voices like the faraway thunder within Cloud. But the peaks spoke in a primitive voice of death in the making. No matter how mysterious in appearance, this surface world offered no long-term residential value to Cloud citizens.

But in time, the awe of it all gave way to other observations. Most of the ships branched away from the fleet, each moving down and parting in their specific directions. The division was not unexpected. Bjorn’s briefing had covered many issues of order, travel, and safety. According to plan, hours before sunrise tomorrow, all the ships would return for rendezvous. The meet would take place in darkness and at a specific height above the surface. All ships would then sail back up to Kabutar or another of the floating nests.

Thus he began to ramble around the Amera, passing various crewmembers and many guards, some in groups and some standing in solitary like clear statues against the bulkheads. He went all around the ship, peering from the various railings while also taking care not to get too hot or too dry. And then, while moving from observation point to observation point, another thought came to mind: Why did so many marines travel with trade ships?

He purposed to seek answers.

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