Space 1889 - Luftschiff Voraus.pdf - Space 1889 - RPG

Luftschiff Voraus!

Absently, von Richthofen looked over at his brother.

Lothar was wide-awake in his hammock and raising

himself on his elbows, grinning broadly at him. “What was

that you said?”

Lothar laughed. “I said: Always daydreaming! Do you

dream of potting a Thunder-Lizard? Imagine such a head

on the hunting lodge wall back home!”

Manfred smiled. He and Lothar had spent many silent

hours in the woods of their Prussian home stalking the

great stags. “No brother. I think that I am eager to fly

again. I am eager to seek the heart of this mystery. You

alone know of my private feelings. I must know my

Lotte’s fate.

Lothar’s smile evaporated abruptly. “The Doctor’s

niece. Have no fear; I know that they will be found safe

and well. Madness for a military mission to have taken

civilians along at all.”

“Doctor Redl was ever a man to have his own way. He

fought for the expedition; he would go along; he would

take Lotte along.” Manfred struggled to control his

bitterness. “He –.”

The shrill whistle of the voice-pipe cut him short.

Taking the mouthpiece from its hook he listened briefly,

then: “At once Kapitän. Lothar; we fly.”

Numbed by the thunderous beat of the engines in LZ43s

forward and aft gondolas, Manfred von Richthofen rested

his elbows on the sill of the celluloid window and gazed

out and down at the misty Venusian jungle below. The

splayed tops of the green-black cycads nodded below

rushing wisps and tendrils of the ever-present cloud. He

could almost imagine the crash and roar of unseen

Thunder-Lizards shouldering their brute way through the

dense world-forest below.

Looking through the open back of the tiny amidships

gondola, he could easily see the gently swaying form of his

brothers Albatross, hooked up to LZ43s keel. Great God,

how he longed to take his own machine out on patrol.

The fuel reserves that were kept for the aerostats was

meagre enough – no more than eighty litres above that

carried in their machines’ tanks – in addition, Kapitän

Krenz had allowed the brothers a proving flight two days

before – a brief one.

Brief had been the theme of this whole mission. He

and Lothar had been late additions. One week’s training

on SL9, the army’s old wooden Shutte-Lanz ship with a

hastily rigged capture trapeze. Just a week and then –

away!

LZ34 had been extensively modified with a kit of parts

that enabled her to undertake aerostat operations. Her

length had been extended by twenty metres to take her to

an extraordinary 120 metres. She had been stripped of her

military equipment to save weight. This and the extra lift

her now much greater internal volume gave her the means

to comfortably hoist aloft the two Albatross scouts, the

third central gondola and the equipment needed to

support them aloft.

Their sister-ship the LZ44 was missing. Three weeks

before she had been on a survey mission beyond the

Kaiser Frederick III range, out past even the Akna Hills.

Her last report via her Marconi Voltatic Spark set had

been entirely routine and with no intimation of trouble; it

had contained her last position report. So, even though

she had probably gone down, her crew had provisions

enough for a month, small arms and two maxims that

could be unbolted from their emplacements in the hull

and mounted on large-wheeled field carriages. Provided

that her commander, Schmetterling, had made some sort

of controlled descent, Kapitän Krenz had been sure that

her crew could hold out.

In the control car forward, Kapitän Julius Krenz of the

Imperial German Airship Service replaced the speaking

tube. Looking back he could see the two young aviators

clap helmets and goggles on their heads. Heat and humi-

dity made the leathers of the earth-bound aviator

unnecessary.

The younger Richthofen boy, the tearaway Lothar was

exiting the gondola in his shirtsleeves! He grabbed the

tube again. “Leutnant von Richthofen! I may be familiar

with Army methods, but in the airship service we go on

operations properly uniformed. I request you to wear your

uniform tunic!” He smothered a smile in his large Imperial

as the abashed young man hastily donned his jacket.

“Trimsman! I want you to stand ready to adjust our

attitude when we cast those young devils free.”

“Jawohl,” Trimsman Klosterheim responded sturdily.

He took a steady grip on the trim wheel at the side of the

cabin – so mounted as to improve his chances of noting

any fore-and-aft imbalance.

“Engine start”, reported the Engineering Officer, a

young Swabian named Rommel. Gears and drive chains

conspired to turn cranks clipped to the airscrews of the

Albatrosses. A couple of pops, a bang and clouds of blue

smoke and the 160hp Daimler-Benz engines bellowed

into life.

“Very good. Herr Rommel, prepare to let go fore and

aft.”

“Jawohl Herr Kapitän.” Rommel’s hand gripped the

release lever.

“Let go.”

“Aerostats released.” Rommel turned to watch them

go. “Clean separation.” The airship lurched upward, re-

lieved of almost 2000 kilograms weight. Klosterheim gave

way then met her, keeping the mighty airship level. Rom-

mel marvelled again at the miracle of powered, heavier

than air flight as the two machines dropped away like

diving kingfishers to build their airspeed before formatting

on the LZ43.

Kapitän Krenz nodded in satisfaction. “Signalman.

Make ‘Search’ to our children out there.” The lamp

clacked, and both aerostats waggled their wings in

acknowledgment, sun flashing on their wings as they

banked away.

disc of his airscrew. The interruptor gear did its work

perfectly. A glance at Lothars machine revealed a similar

stabbing flame. All was well and they were ready for all

contingencies.

What was that? Manfred pushed his goggles up onto

his forehead. A glint, surely too steady to be sunlight on

water. Could it be metal?

Banking and diving, he lost altitude rapidly until he

was circling a scant two hundred meters above he tree-

tops. My God! Yes it was! He jabbed his finger down-

ward. Lothar waved back; he had seen it too.

Below them lay the straggle-boned wreck of the LZ44.

After the ticklish business of hooking back on to the

LZ43, the two aviators reported to Krenz.

”Although her back is broken, ‘44 looks substantially

intact, Kapitän.” concluded Lothar.

”Hauptman?” enquired the Kapitän. They were seated

around what might generously be described as a card table

in the commander’s tiny cabin.

”I concur,” said von Richthofen. ”There is no evid-

ence of fire. There may be survivors.”

Krenz now had a weighty decision. Ought he to risk

his ship to a perilous landing without a mooring mast or

ground crew that his beautiful ship would need? To ask

the question was to have the answer. ”Very well then. We

shall make landfall and begin searching. Hauptman von

Richthofen, will you take station in the control car for-

ward with me? I would wish you to guide us in.”

Manfred glanced back over his right shoulder. Lothar’s

yellow-tailed machine had taken station a little above and

behind him. Good. Their view of the ground would over-

lap. Twice the chance to see LZ44. Her pale buff skin

should be easy to spot against the vegetation.

Hot, damp air roared in his ears. The leather flying-

helmet he wore did almost nothing to muffle the noise.

He clawed it off in a single motion. That was better. The

wind whipped his hair, stinging his forehead. He could

feel the occasional hot bite of castor oil on his cheeks.

The rapid clatter of the ash-and-walnut prop soothed him

beyond his ability to express it. He was a man at one with

his element, the air.

At times like this he rather pitied the dull fellows who

shuttled the space-lanes between the inner planets. A drab

existence clapped up in a riveted iron and steel box

floating through the gasping cold of the ether. Better by

far to be a creature of the skies be they blue, indigo or the

toxic yellow-green of Venus.

The Venusian airs gave his wings twice the lift they’d

have had in an earthly sky – the anaemic atmosphere of

Mars would have confined him to the lowlands. He was

beginning to wonder how one of Anthony Fokker’s old

monoplanes would have fared here. His triplanes were

needed on Mars if they were to get above two thousand

meters above “canal level”. Joyfully he banked to port,

leading Lothar to the next track of their pre-arranged

search.

He dipped his Albatross’s nose briefly. Lothar did the

same. Time he felt for a weapons check. A brief yank on

the charging lever and his air-cooled Maxims were ready.

Tak-tak-tak-tak. A brief stream of lead poured through the

III

Matros Engel and Rigger Klein sweated and cursed in

LZ43’s nose cone as they struggled to pay out the three

hundred-metre bowline. Engel shackled a pair of grappl-

ing hooks to the end. These would be used to snag the

ground. Many attempts were needed before the hooks

caught, and the electric winch tore it free three times

before a sound grip was established. Klein wound in a few

tens-of-meters to be sure of the ships grasp of the ground.

In the control room Helmsman Schmundt allowed the

breeze to bring her, like a weathercock, nose into the

wind. As she settled, he cranked the annunciator, signal-

ling ‘idle’. The noise of her airscrews died away to a

mumble leaving LS43 with just enough headway to come

up her cable as it was winched in.

Clank – clank – clank – clank went the winch’s pawl.

Every gain the winch made was against the airships buoy-

ancy. The captain could have valved off hydrogen, but

replacing the lost lifting gas would have meant unshipping

the whole cumbersome generating gear and waiting

tedious hours while more “cooked”.

When she was at treetop height, rope ladders tumbled

from her sides and crewmen scrambled down. Armed

with heavy mallets and long iron pegs, they nailed the

ladders to the forest floor as other men stood ready with

rifles to defend them.

Other men took curious, corkscrew-bottomed poled

and fastened metal handles through loops at their top

ends. These they carried some little way out from the ship

and screwed the poles into the soft, treacherous Venusian

clay. Once withdrawn, the loops had cables passed

through them and up again into the airship where they

were tightened with hand-cranks.

Even though the men were sweating and tired by this

time they were spurred on by Trimsman Klosterheim to

hew down several of the great cycad ferns. These had

their great bushy heads lopped with saws and the resultant

logs were piled into a crude stockade.

Engineer Rommel supervised the emplacement of

their only Maxim on the stockade walls to provide a base

of fire should there be an attack of thunder lizards or

some more unknowable threat.

Nor did any of the other officers spare their efforts.

Manfred stood watch with a rifle while his brother led a

small party transferring a stock of food, water and ball

ammunition to the stockade. Lothar kept the men work-

ing cheerfully with a combination of example and rough

banter that he knew he could never match. Kapitän Krenz

supervised the laying of charges that blasted the tree ferns

down, greatly easing the task of the saw-and-axe-wielding

crewmen.

At last it was done and the men were fed, some falling

asleep as they ate. A small party were given coffee and

detailed to take the first watch.

Krenz, Rommel and the brothers von Richthofen

conferred. ”Gentlemen, I feel we are secure for now. We

will let the men rest and tomorrow we shall send a party

on foot to the LZ44 and see what we may find. Rommel,

you and young von Richthofen can turn in.”

The young men gratefully went to find a place to

sleep.

”This is very difficult for me, Herr Kapitän. I... There

was – is, I pray – a young woman among LZ44s

complement. She and I – ” Manfred paused unable to go

on.

Krenz nodded slowly. ”Doctor Redl’s niece. I am

familiar with the identities of all this aboard LZ44.”

”Ja, Herr Kapitän. She and I have an understanding

that we shall, with her uncles permission, be engaged on

her return from this mission.” Manfred coughed and drew

on his cigar. ”I would know what has happened to her, for

either good or ill.”

”Does your brother know?”

”Ja, Herr Kapitän. He knows, you know and I know.

No one else. Herr Kapitän, please, now that I have given

you my confidence, may I ask that you respect it? It will

alter the nature of my relationship with the men. You

know how sentimental they are apt to become.”

”And you would not be the ‘poor Hauptman von

Richthofen’. I understand. Manfred, my boy, I can give

you this guarantee – I will keep your secret as long as is

does not conflict with what we are trying to do here.”

Kapitän Krenz offered him his hand. ”How do you say?”

”Herr Kapitän, I am satisfied. My own personal

considerations will not interfere with the mission” He

took the proffered hand. ”Thank you.”

”Let us say nothing more. Tomorrow you, Lothar, and

I shall take a party to the wreck and see what we may find.

Young Rommel can remain in charge here. He is a capable

fellow – fancies himself quite the tactician. Have you

heard he is writing a book on infantry tactics? Remarkable,

you young men.” Krenz cast away the wet end of his

cigar. ”We shall turn in now. There will be much to do to-

morrow. And we must take a watch tonight.” He clapped

Manfred on the shoulder. ”Come! To bed!”

”Manfred. Come with me please and talk a while.” Krenz

took cigars from his pocket case and handed one to

Manfred who lit both of them with a waterproof match.

”Thank you my boy,” said Krenz, exhaling a great

plume of oily smoke. ”You are a good officer, von

Richthofen.”

“Herr Kapitän.” Manfred wondered what was coming.

He could guess.

”You and your brother did well today to find LZ44 so

quickly. While a bit brash, young Lothar is a credit to you

and your family. But you.”

”Herr Kapitän?” asked von Richthofen, a serpent of

dread coiling in his stomach.

”What is it that oppresses you so? You have been

silent and reserved since you came on board. You seem...

preoccupied.” Krenz paused, plainly uncomfortable. ”Do

you have a personal stake in this business? Forgive my

bluntness.”

Next morning a typical Venusian torrential downpour

wakened the crew of LZ43. No tarpaulin or oilskin would

keep it out. Moments later the sun was blazing fiercely

again, filling their little clearing with steamy vapour.

What a place, thought Lothar as he wrung out the

kerchief he had mopped his face with. His uniform would

be ruined. What was next? Snow? A smattering of frogs?

“Get fallen in you men,” he yelled at a little knot of

crewmen. The airshipmen shouldered rifles and variously

put out pipes, cigars and cigarettes.

Krenz ambled over, solar topee on head and stick in

hand. “Shall we be off, Leutnant?”

“In just a moment, Herr Kapitän. Ah, here is my

brother now.”

“Gentlemen,” said the Kapitän with his usual courtesy.

“Shall we get on?”

“Ja, Herr Kapitän. The men have broken their fast.

This is for you.” He handed over a vacuum flask. “Pea

and ham soup.”

“Ah, yes. That will do for me nicely. Thank you, von

Richthofen. Let us be on out way.”

weeks in the Venusian jungle had done their terrible work.

The bodies were in unspeakable condition. Manfred

looked in and abruptly turned away, stomach heaving.

Lothar pale and sweating abruptly threw a hand against

the hull and vomited again and again. ”I am sorry, this is

the first time...”

”Terrible, terrible.” said Krenz, only just maintaining

his composure. We must – ”

”Let me Herr Kapitän, please.” Manfred took out his

sheath knife and tenderly cut away the identity discs. He

rubbed the aluminium bright again in the soil. ”Horst and,

and Soderburgh.”

”I knew them,” said Krenz. ”They served with me on

my last commission.” He heaved a deep, deep sigh.

”Good men, both. We shall give them a Christian burial

here. Let them lie where they fell for their fatherland. For

it is true that this is a struggle for survival as dreadful as

any war: these men fell in the battle for the conquest of

this terrible place.”

Although the airship-wreck was only two kilometres away,

it took Krenz’s party the better part of the morning to

reach it. To Manfred the journey was a nightmare of toil.

The tough brush resisted the effect of their Argentine

machetes with the will of a living combatant. Eventually

they beat down rather than cut the vegetation. Before very

long at all they were covered in sticky sap and bits of

brush that were difficult and painful to tear free where

they adhered to the skin.

Clouds of insects dogged them mercilessly, clogging

ears, nose mouth and eyes. More than one man was

driven to frantic blasphemy in his torment. Klosterheim

spoke sharply indeed to a man who started to douse them

away with his canteen. “D__d fool! Do you want to be

drinking from that?” He pointed at a deep, sucking

footprint that oozed yellow, liquid mud. “Now get on!”

Finally though, Lothar and another man, Bauer, broke

through the foliage. They found an area the size of a

sports field that had been flattened as though by the foot-

step of a giant. There lay the wreck of the LZ44. She had

broken into two parts, with great quantities of smaller

stuff scattered around. The body of a man lay almost at

their feet and their passage raised an enormous cloud of

the ubiquitous insects.

Krenz took Klosterheim aside. “I want you to form a

perimeter with the younger men. I do not want them

rattled by what they may see inside. Let them smoke;

heaven knows it may help to keep these wretched insects

at bay. Keep them under control – see that no-one

wanders.”

“Jawohl, I understand.” Krenz tugged at his fine

beard. “By twos, Herr Kapitän?”

“If you please, Klosterheim.” Krenz turned. “Haupt-

man, Leutnant, Professor, Wittman and… Engel. If you

would be so good as to accompany me.”

The tail of the LZ44 was largely wrecked. The elabo-

rate venetian blind of elevators and stabilisers leaned

drunkenly over to one side. When the hydrogen had

escaped the gasbags, the framing had collapsed somewhat

under its own weight, giving the hull a fat-bottomed, pear-

shaped aspect. The doped fabric of her skin was still

bright and the black paint of her name – ”Schwalbe” –

could still be seen. Nevertheless, this was no swan that

would soar the Venusian skies again.

Inside the crushed remains of the rear gondola, the

hum of the insects rose again to a roar. ”Dear Heavens

above”, breathed Lothar. Pale now, he looked ready to be

sick. ”Herr Kapitän.” Krenz looked. Among the shattered

equipments of the gondola lay the remains of two – men?

Apart from the mutilation inflicted by the crash, three

The control car yielded three more corpses. They were the

First officer and two more crewmen. The First’s body was

in particularly bad shape, as though torn by beasts. Lothar

was nothing if not thankful. ”We at least know that there

were eighteen survivors.”

”Ah, but where might they be? I have not the men to

go blundering about the bush. That will only yield us

casualties.”

”Herr Kapitän! Herr Kapitän!” Manfred had been

looking in the cabins aft.

”Yes, Hauptman, what to you have?”

”The Marconi shack. I found this.” He thrust forward

an oilskin packet. It had been sealed by small, expert

stitches. ”That was done by a woman’s hand, I am sure”

Krenz did not miss the swift glance that passed

between the brothers von Richthofen. ”Hmmm. Perhaps

so.” He took out his clasp knife and slit the parcel open

down one side.

Inside lay a paste-backed book, bound in blue cloth.

The mould that splotched its wrappings had not touched

it. ”LZ44’s log.”

”The last entry, Herr Kapitän. What does it say?”

Manfred could barely contain his agitation.

”It is in my old comrade Schmetterling’s hand. Ah –

yes.” He cleared his throat and began to read.

”May 17. Another eventful day mapping the terrain. Clear skies

and the air singularly calm. LZ44 continues to perform well.

”Rather than descend in the business of sample collection, I

instead elected again to lower the basket with two men in it. They

could again take botanical samples from the forest canopy and

expose photographic plates. The men have become quite expert in

manipulating a pair of shears wired to the end of a broomstick!

”Dr Redl’s assistant has already completed her first series of

watercolours documenting the botanical and insect samples we

gathered two weeks ago. They are remarkable for the completeness of

their detail. I am sure that until the day comes when colour

photographic apparatus becomes possible her work will be

unsurpassed.

”Doctor Redl himself has described over ninety new species of

organism and has done me the honour of naming one ‘Schmett-o-

saurus’ – Schmetterling’s Lizard. I am feeding it scraps of bacon in

my cabin until his little belly groans under the strain.

”I intend to take my party to the northeast. There I shall take

up a position at the entrance to a cave system that we spotted on

some high ground yesterday. I have guncotton with which to make

mines and electrical detonators to set them off. I have a rifle for every

member of our party as well as one of LZ44s maxims, which

survived the crash undamaged.

”We are ready to go now. I estimate we have two or three days’

march ahead of us to travel the twenty kilometres we must. We will

carry the wounded in their hammocks. The maxim will likewise

take two to tow on its carriage. That leaves seven of us unburdened

enough at any time to carry the explosive materials and ammunition.

We all carry as much food as we can in addition to our other stores.

Every one of us who can lift or carry is burdened with 25 kilograms

of stores – even Fräulein Redl. I trust that this being Venus, water

will not be a problem – we certainly can carry no more than is in our

canteens.

”That is all. Fräulein Redl will seal this journal in a waterproof

packet. I pray that relief shall come to us soon.”

Krenz paused. ”Here he breaks off and then resumes,

the hand much more hurried, less steady.”

”Disaster has overtaken us. LZ44 is a shattered wreck and I have

lost five men, including my First Officer, Lang.

”We flew northeast all morning, establishing our position hourly

by means of sun shots and the chronometer for our reports via the

Marconi apparatus.

”It was just after we had made one such report, Horst in the

engine car reported that he and his mate Sonderburg, had seen some

kind of flying beast in the distance. In the control car we trained

every glass at our disposal to port in an attempt to spot them.

”Would that we had not! Some five kilometres distant we saw

them, circling high in the updraft from a nearby volcano. They were

some specie of flying reptile; pterodactyls; or pteranodons. I am no

expert. They did not fly, but rather soared as the condor. They must

have imagined us prey for, quick as thought they were upon us.

”I heard a brief cry as two of them smashed into the rear car.

One of them fell, broken by the force of the impact to be torn by its

brothers. The other of them bore away an object. Not a man, but

undeniably a part of one.

”Even as we recovered from this horror, further impacts told us

of collisions against our hull.

”Mindful of my ship’s safety and that of the souls aboard her, I

ordered that lifting gas be valved off and speed raised. I had it in

mind to speedily dive away from the predators.

”It was impossible to raise speed as the engineering crew were

already dead or incapacitated. It was at this time that poor Lang

lost his life in a brave attempt that was within the highest traditions

of our service to communicate to the engine car.

”Nor was our rate of descent to be controlled. The weight of the

predators and the slashing damage they had done our gasbags was

such that we fell precipitously. My last conscious thought was to order

hands to brace for impact. Then we smashed through the trees and

for a time I became unconscious.

”When I was again sensible of my surroundings, LZ44 lay a

wreck in this clearing we had beaten, and two more of my men lay

dead in the ruin.

”Three others, including Doctor Redl were injured. Fräulein

Redl who has some medical training assisted my orderly with the

wounded. The Doctor appears the worst off of the lot. He has injured

his head and appears stuporous, only wakening for brief periods.

Fräulein Redl fears a fracture of the skull and I see no reason to

disagree.

Krenz stuffed the logbook into his satchel. ”That is all

there is. We shall return to the ship and – ”

”Herr Kapitän!” Klosterheim’s voice was shrill with

urgency.

They ran outside. The crewmen had formed a ragged

line. Two, no, three of the terrible thunder-lizards had

crashed their way through the jungle wall and stood,

roaring in confusion at the scattered manikins before

them. Manfred drew his revolver.

In the unreality of the moment he heard his brother’s

”My God!” and saw him fumble for his own weapon. A

Thunder Lizard, the leader of the little pack seemed to

hear him and fixed a beady yellow eye upon the pastor

and began to stalk toward him. It was only forty meters

away. Lothar finally got his pistol out and blazed off every

chamber. This was seemingly of no effect; the beast

roared and picked up its pace.

”Make ready! Shoulder arms!” called Klosterheim.

The lizard charged with its head lowered its mates at

either side of it.

”Concentrate your fire,” roared Krenz.

”Fire!” screamed Klosterheim.

Nine rifles barked an irregular volley. Nine bolts click-

clacked.

”Again: fire!” The lizard staggered, almost twenty

bullets peppering its head and neck.

”And again, range twenty meters, fire!” The huge

creature, all of fifteen meters from snout to tail dropped

with a crash, torn all over by rifle bullets. Some of the

men who had heard of the terrible lizards of Venus, and

had dum-dummed their ammunition in contravention of

international treaty. They had been remarkably effective.

The inexplicable fall of their leader had confused the

other two monsters. ”Free fire,” cried Krenz.

Perhaps it was the sting of rifle bullets that did it or

the unaccustomed pop-popping of musketry. Whatever

the cause, the two surviving Lizards turned and crashed

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