“Kay, say thank you to Pochi the forklift for doing the pulling.” Jon had just finished dragging the airship and its copious folds of balloon fabric out the bunker. It was early evening, so his AR had switched to grey-scale low-light augmentation. He leaned on the vehicle drinking Rooibos tea from a cold flask.
“You named this rusted horseless cart after your dog?” She had returned after zealously cutting the grass far further back than was necessary. Any job worth doing was worth doing well, he supposed.
Passing her another flask, he idly reached over and picked some grass out of her hair.
“Who’s to say I didn't name my dog after it? This off-road workhorse is old enough.” Jon patted the battered and paint-stripped body. She might outlive him if he wasn’t careful. “Also she’s a cart-less horse. Don’t listen to Kay, Pochi; she’s an elvish meanie!”
The elf just shook her head.
Jon returned Pochi to the garage and replaced her scoop with a padded lifting claw. Then he carefully roved about the HAS grabbing and positioning the engines before inflation. Kay was recruited to guide lifting and lowering.
The side engines—or nacelles—were positioned on the outside of the envelope. They extended laterally from the ship on single bulky beams. Traditionally being prop engines, these were simply aerodynamic cylinders with two inner conductive rings, as was the single thrust engine on the tail-end of the ship. Unfolding was trivial, most of it it would unfurl by itself during inflation.
In contrast, fold-up for storage was a bitch. By that point, he would have help. If not, there were much bigger problems to worry about.
With the whole floppy vehicle adequately laid out, Pochi was returned to her bunker parking spot, and Jon approached the right nacelle with Kay shadowing him.
“Lee, activate the Right Engine Intake Rift. Zero thrust. Kay, stand clear.”
“Activating right intake. Bunker turbine fans are still offline, zero airflow,” said Lee.
The hollow metre-wide engine cowling had fore and aft Rifts, and the entry blinked on revealing a dark concrete tunnel beyond. A soft breeze tugged through.
“That portal is rather small,” said Kay.
“For air, not people,” replied Jon. “Activate outtake rift, please Lee.”
Jon sauntered to the back end of the white nacelle and saw a similar dingy pipe. Musty smells from the bunker’s concrete ducting wafted out.
“Okay give me 99% constriction and cycle up Fan One to 5 per cent.” Jon twirled his finger—the universal signal for startup—an old habit.
“99% constriction, switching on Fan One to 5%, roger.”
He felt the expelled breeze climb to a gust. Kay was behind him.
“The hole breathes!”
“That it does, Kay, be sure to stay away from these things at most times. We wouldn’t want it to breathe you in and spit you out. There’s a grid in the bunker for that, but it won’t be pleasant, or very survivable. I’ve scraped a fair share of pigeons out from the ducts. It’s better than losing an engine, but you don’t wanna be the bird.” Kay wisely took a few steps back.
“Lee, shut down this one and let’s repeat with the other engines. Skip Fan Two use No. 4 instead. Maintenance is scheduled for this week, I promise.”
“I don’t like you running without spares, Kel. I’m moving it up to tomorrow morning. No complaints or I’ll dive down myself and beat ya with a monkey wrench.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Following the engine tests, Jon started up the helium pumps in the bunker and they, in turn, pumped gas through Rift-connected valves to the interior blimp portion of the airship. This aerostat differed from the standard shape. The ship was not a single ovular envelope. Instead, it was two, side by side, overlapping and merged in the centre—more volume for less length. Essentially, two ovoids nestled in parallel, instead of one, making a crude airfoil of its own. That, along with a few winglets, provided extra lift and manoeuvrability which justified the ‘hybrid’ part of its name. The inflated form looked very similar to certain kinds of body parts from all sorts of angles. Such comparisons were, as a rule, strictly forbidden among his Dive crew. The HAS was a beautiful girl, and Jon would not tolerate any blasphemous commentary to the contrary.
There was next-to-no technology that was passed down to Non-Root Worlds save for the essential use of Rifts for further exploration. Even where the first anchor Rift was deployed remained a mystery. A trade secret of Alpha, along with how worlds were discovered and linked. Way above Jon’s paygrade, in any event. But all Rifts thereafter required little more than a radio signal and a conductive ring to affix the event horizon to. The meagre power requirements could be fed from either side. This suited everyone perfectly fine. There were untold design limitations that could be overcome with just this technology alone.
Say, for example, a blimp required periodic helium refilling and refuelling. It could be filled in flight. And why would there be a need for engines when only thrust was required? Toss off heavy propellers and the massive fuel load. The HAS was gutted of almost everything traditional flying vehicles necessitated. As such the required inflated envelope was close to half the size of its non-Rift counterpart. His gorgeous flying beauty, when full-busted, came in at 50 metres long, 24 metres wide, and 13 metres high.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The white gondola sat snuggly nestled beneath the double ovoid crease. As the envelope inflated, pneumatic skids on opposing ovoids hoisted the cabin off the ground. The skids were puncture-resistant and could land on almost any surface. The cabin could comfortably seat a group of ten people on the chairs alone. A little wider than a luxury train car, but not as long, with plenty of standing headroom. The benefits of a rectangular form factor were obvious.
But why stay inside a ‘cramped’ cabin all day when the capacious comfort of the bunker was just an event horizon away. Accordingly, at the back of the cabin—where a lavatory might be—there was an inconspicuous human-height silver ring.
Constellations sparkled above while the balloon filled and unfolded. Anchor stakes were pinned to the ground to secure the ship. Their slack ropes pulled taut as gas bolstered its shape with every cubic metre. The pair stood together eating Onigiri rice balls with salmon filling and Nori seaweed wrapping. Dinner on the go was all Jon could manage tonight.
“It swells and bloats inch-meal,” said Kay between mouthfuls. “Like the air hoops?”
“Yes, but I'm blowing a special kind of air inside.”
“These sticky white grains of rice are delightful, by the way. The quality is better than southern imports by far.” She took another bite. “So, You are capturing air within animal skin?”
“Not animal skin, it’s a synthetic composite. A combination of materials not found naturally.” Finishing his food, he dusted his hands of stray rice.
“Remarkable, but to what end do you do this?”
Arms folded, he turned to her. “Do as I say, Kay, breathe in.” She did so. “Now breathe out.” An exhalation followed. “Is the air you breathed in the same as that which you breathed out?”
“It may smell different, I suppose, a bit more moist and warm.” She breathed into a free hand—the Onigiri in the other.
“It is called respiration, you take something from the air and exchange it for something that you put back. The air going into your lungs is not the same as the air coming out. Beyond the moisture, heat, and smell, there is something else. Breathe the same air again and again from a wet sack or in a cave, and eventually, it will deplete causing you to faint. Air is made up of many different kinds, but only one sustains you. Does any of this sound familiar?”
“I have never heard someone describe breath in such a manner; it seems rather trivial a subject to muse so deeply upon. Alas, your ruminations always have some purpose, so please continue, Master.”
“These different kinds of 'air' we call gases. The one we need to breathe—and incidentally fires also need to burn—is called Oxygen. You see, you eat air, just like you eat food and drink water. Tell me, if you drank oil, would it quench you?”
“Surely not, the thought alone discomforts me!” Keya mimed a gag response. Afterwards, she licked her fingers clean. No stray rice grain ever found the earth. Good thing he forced her to use disinfectant beforehand.
“Course not. Similarly, there are different kinds of things that flow: liquids. And only one sustains you, but the others have their uses. And that brings us to your question. Oil is lighter than water, fill a waterskin with oil and throw it into a lake or river and it will float. Fill it with air, and it floats better still. So what happens if you have a gas lighter than air?”
“Well, that’s preposterous! Air is not like water. For one, it has no surface.”
“If you lived on the bottom of the ocean your whole life you might think the same of water.”
“It does not ebb and flow like rivers and the tide!”
“What do you think wind is, no wait lemme guess too ‘trivial to ruminate’ on?”
“You cannot swim in air!” Her consternation was growing.
“Birds and fucking dragons do. What do you think? Everything just operates via magic!?”
“I-I refuse to believe such an asinine notion! Air cannot even be seen! There is no way, gods be my witness, that you could know so much about something so inscrutable! You will have to prove it!”
“With pleasure.” Jon glanced at the airship. There were a few hours left of inflation, and something else was necessary before that. They were in murky, darkness, relying almost entirely on sensors. It would remain so until just prior to launch. If I’m gonna give some poor sods a close encounter of the third kind, lights and all, best be ready to lift off soon after.
Jon reached into his pack and pulled out a standard surveillance balloon. Identical ones had been deployed—always at night—to give them their current map coverage and network. Unfastening the compact package, he let the flimsy white material unfold and activated the helium Rift valve. A slow hiss ensued, filling the envelope, rapidly offsetting weight with buoyancy.
“This is a surveillance balloon. Ultimately, I hope to get thousands if not more in the sky. The principle for this is the same as the airship. I fill it with a gas lighter than air, called Helium.
"Do you see how it pulls up like trapped air under water?” The balloon sagged with loose folds like a plastic bag trapping air in a pool. It would not be completely filled upon release since higher elevations had lower pressures and the inner gas would volumetrically expand.
“I do, but it could simply be a trick of this strange pellucid fabric.” Her cynicism was working overtime.
“Come over here, hold it yourself.” He held out the balloon, lifting stronger with every second. Keya approached cautiously and with slim fingers grasped the plastic above his. He let go.
“Oh, I feel it pulling! You swear you’re not a Wind mage?”
“Just the applied principles of science is all. Let go; it needs no help to fly.”
As Keya released it, the balloon bobbed a tad and then slowly rose into the starry sky. Its little sensor box dangled underneath dragged on slack material.
“You are a liar, Master.” The comment was sombre.
“How so?”
“I recall you promising no more than one great revelation per day. This makes it at least two since the morrow. Some doubts remain, but this is hard to deny. How is it you know so much and know it so well?”
“16 years of education, thirst for knowledge, and the Internet.” Listing on his fingers. “I realise the difference appears starker.”
“‘Stark’ falls short of what I feel,” replied Kay.
“Ja, I’m sorry about that.”
“Please don’t be.” Her head turned to him, but it was hard to make out her expression in the dark, even with infrared.
“Take a break, but don't wander beyond the cut grass. It’ll be an hour or two before the airship is ready.” Jon left for a perimeter sweep and to finish his Poker game with Lee.