Lin Carter - Callisto 8 - Renegade Of Callisto

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Renegade of

Callisto

Lin Carter

BOOK ONE - TARAN, SKY CADET

1 - Masters of the Upper Air

Human ingenuity is the crowning marvel of all Creation.

And, of all the works of man’s invention, I regard the unique and unparalleled

ornithopters of Thanator as among the more ingenious and remarkable.

To conceive of the very notion of a flying machine in a society whose science has yet to

progress beyond something resembling the High Renaissance is in itself remarkable.

And it would have seemed even more remarkable to me had not the mighty brain of

Leonardo-that titan intellect of the Renaissance-duplicated the feat of the unsung and

nameless Callistan engineer who first conceived of the ornithopter. For the Florentine

superman himself dreamed of a flying machine that flew as a bird flies-by flapping its

wings. But some Callistan genius actually perfected the concept, from its initial

visualization to the physical reality.

It was lifting gas, found only in the White Mountains, that made the dream of

weightless flight come true. Sometimes I wonder whether, had hydrogen or helium been

known in the Florence of Leonardo da Vinci, the age of flight might not have begun

centuries before the Wright brothers.

When my friends and I succeeded in destroying for all time the power of the cruel and

rapacious Sky Pirates of Zanadar, we wrote finis to their unchecked reign as masters of

the upper air. And from the ruination of their buccaneering kingdom we carried off the

secrets of constructing the sky-ships. Thought and experiment and a certain amount of

luck had enabled my people of Shondakor to construct a Sky Navy: now we were the

masters of the upper sky, Lords of the Air.

The Golden City of Shondakor enjoys a kindly and beneficent reign over the kingdoms

of Thanator. Its rulers are not likely to employ their new airfleet to conquer or subject

neighboring realms. I can say this with utter certitude, and a degree of pride as well, for

I and my beloved Princess, Darloona, are the rulers of Shondakor.

The sky-ships are immense and ungainly, albeit weightless, and require the strength of

human muscles, or the lucky direction of the winds, to give them motive power. Even

the little four-man gigs must be pedaled-for all the world like airborne bicycles!-in order

to fly. And this has long bothered me: this discrepancy between the technological

marvel of the huge flying ships themselves and the primitive muscle power required to

move them about the sky.

I could see no reason why some form of lightweight engine could not be added to their

structure to drive the jointed and mobile vans. And I had long intended to seek

sufficient leisure in which to tinker up such a device, as yet unconceived even by the

most advanced Callistan genius.

But, alas, the rulers of cities oft have many weighty burdens to occupy their time, and

leisure is a rare commodity for kings. Making just and needed laws, enforcing them

with alacrity and even-handedness, establishing tax rates (and collecting them) ,

dispensing justice, hearing the argument of suits, studying petitions, overseeing the

various governmental offices, officiating at ceremonial functions, laying cornerstones,

rewarding loyal service and punishing the venal-these and a thousand other bothersome

duties add weight to the burden of a crown, and a ruler dares to delegate his authority

only so much and no more.

But once the power of the insidious Mind Wizards had been crushed, and we had

returned from our long wars on the Far Side of Thanator, my kingdom entered upon one

of those golden times kings dream of. Peace reigned, and Shondakor was at enmity with

no other nation or people. Trade flourished, since we had newly entered into close and

cooperative alliance with our neighboring cities, Soraba and Tharkol, and an abundance

of wealth and prosperity flowed through our gates.

Thus it was that I seized the advantage offered by this brief, prosperous, peaceful period

in Shondakor’s history and turned my attention to the reinvention of the airplane engine.

Since I had long been an aviator on my native world, I didn’t think that the project

could be other than simple and easy.

Well, it proved a lot more difficult than I had imagined. It is one thing to be able to

order pistons and fuel tanks, propeller blades and spark plugs from the nearest supply

house, and quite another to try to describe them to a bunch of bewildered Renaissance

craftsmen and artisans!

Take, for example, that plain and lowly device, the simple spark plug. What, exactly,

goes inside the damned thing? What is it made of?-how much goes in?-how is it

processed?-what are the sizes and weights and proportions of each component?-and the

precise sizes, weights, and proportions, if you please!

Reinventing the airplane engine meant I had to reinvent a hundred other gadgets first,

and the tools to make them, too. For many months I kept the craftsmen, artisans, and

ironsmiths of Shondakor, Tharkol, and Soraba busy, busy, busy, putting together

engines that blew up, caught fire, or did nothing but sit there like mere dead lumps of

metal.

A thousand times I would readily have given it all up for just one of the primitive little

gas-gulpers that drove the Wright brothers’ box kite at Kitty Hawk. But, constantly

redesigning for something lighter in weight and less complex, I persevered. And,

eventually, success was mine.

The problem went beyond merely building the tools and the parts; the trouble lay in the

fact that the lifting gas contained in the double hull was ferociously explosive and

flammable, and the hull itself was only heavy paper laminated with coat after coat of

baked-on glue. One, spark from the engine and we would have a flying torchl I had to

devise a way of keeping the engine out of contact with the hull of the craft, and

eventually I came up with the notion of hanging it on the tail, mounted by means of a

metal bracket. This way, any sparks that went flying out in the black smoke would be

whipped away by the slipstream behind the sky-ship.

It was crude-and it was complicated-but it worked!

The Sky Navy of the Three Cities by this period consisted of some eight of these flying

ships. Among these were the Xaxar and the Jalathadar, which had been salvaged from

the destruction of Zanadar, and the Zarkoon, the Avenger, the Arkonna, and the

Conqueress, which had been constructed in the shipyards of Tharkol. My country had

its own shipyards by this time, and our two new vessels, the Shondakor and the

Darloona, completed the fleet.

Still more vessels were under construction at Tharkol and in Shondakor, in a variety of

new designs. Among these were some purely mercantile transport ships financed by the

merchants of Soraba, and a squadron of small, speedy scout-vessels which would be

employed to patrol our mutual borders.

Naturally, once my engine was perfected, the older ships were outfitted with the new

invention and their old, cumbersome apparatus of hand-turned wheel systems was

removed from the mid-deck hold. And all of the ships newly built or currently under

construction would automatically be fitted with the “Jandar engine,” as it had been

named.

Until a new modern squadron of scouts was ready to be launched, we employed the old

four-man gigs for that purpose. These curious vessels resembled outrigger canoes with

rigid wings: they were small, light, speedy, and maneuverable. Their supplies of lifting

gas were strictly limited, because scouts could carry only a light cargo. Young,

relatively lightweight Shondakorian cadets were therefore trained to fly them, usually

boys in their teens.

One of the cadets was Taran, the little jungle boy Prince Lankar had rescued from the

web of the giant spider in the Grand Kumala, and whom he had brought along with him

to Shondakor. The bright, good-natured, likable lad soon made many good friends, and

after Prince Lankar returned home to his-and my-native planet, Earth, little Taran stayed

in Shondakor and was enlisted as a cadet in the legions of the Golden City. When we

began to train a cadre of young officers for the Sky Navy, the lad begged to join their

ranks, and thus Taran of the Ku Thad became a sky cadet.

When Prince Lankar first encountered Taran in the jungle country, the child was about

twelve-slender of build, with coltish legs and a sturdy chest and shoulders, emerald eyes

twinkling mischievously under an unruly mop of red-gold curls, with a full-lipped,

childish mouth whose softness was belied by the resolute and manly set of his jaw. But

by the period of which I write he was nearly fourteen, a tall, longlegged youth who had

not lost his boyish. sense of prank-some fun, but had added to it a more serious sense of

responsibility.

We had all grown immensely fond of Taran. Indeed, it was not possible to resist for

very long his good humor and playfulness, and the very genuine earnestness with which

he tackled every task that came before him. Since he was an orphan, and therefore a

Ward of the Throne, all of us at court more or less adopted him and vied with each other

for the pleasure of his company. Sir Tomar, who was not all that much older than he,

had been as a brother to the boy; but now that Tomar and Ylana of the Jungle Country

were wed and had become the parents of twins, it was Koja and Ergon and Lukor and I

who served in loco parentis; too much older to be like brothers, I fear, we were regarded

by him as affectionate and indulgent uncles, nothing more. His heart he had given only

to Prince Lankar the Earthling, who had rescued him from the ximchak’s web. But of us

all I believe young Taran loved Koja the best.

On the surface of it, there was absolutely nothing about either of the two to draw them

together. Koja, of course, being a Yathoon Hordesman, was not even human: the people

of the Hordes are true arthropods, insect-men, tall, gaunt, ungainly, their stalking limbs

clad in horny gray chitin, their heads expressionless masks of horn with knobbed

antennae and great compound eyes like clusters of black jewels. Cold, emotionless,

devoid of sentiment, they are ferocious warriors, implacable foes, enemies of all men.

It is a matter of particular pride to me that, of all the men and women who have ever

walked the surface of Thanator the Jungle Moon, I was the first to make friends with a

warrior of the Yathoon Horde. Of this rare accomplishment I have written at length in

another portion of these journals,* so I shall not describe here the combination of

patience, cultivation, luck, and sheer accident by which the miracle was accomplished.

Suffice it to say that, once I had shared with Koja the true meaning of friendship, he

discovered for himself the meaning of love. And, of all the hundreds of comrades and

friends I have made during the years of my sojourn upon this fifth moon of Jupiter,

none, with the royal exception of my beloved Princess, lies closer to my heart than the

solemn arthropod whose slave and possession I once was.

Of all that brave and stalwart company, no more true and loyal friend have I than Koja,

whose selfless dedication and love for me I am proud and privileged to return.

On the surface of things, it seemed highly unlikely that Koja and Taran, being worlds

apart, would become the closest of friends. But friends they did indeed become, despite

the gulf that yawned between them, the differences of age, race, and personality. The

reason for their closeness may have sprung, in fact, from these very differences-for

neither Taran nor Koja had been reared here in Shondakor, and were thus strangers from

distant lands; in addition, both were unique-Koja, being the only Yathoon in captivity,

so to speak, and Taran, much younger than any of the others at court. Perhaps their

aloneness drew them together.

In the eyes of young Taran-still the eyes of a boy-the gaunt, solemn, humorless Yathoon

was the most fascinating of playmates-it was as if a child of my race could have for a

friend Winnie the Pooh or Reepicheep or the Tin Woodsman of Oz. And Koja, I knew,

had developed a warmly protective feeling for the children of our race. His own kind

mate but never marry, and do not rear their young personally, but in a far and secret

place near the South Pole of the planet, a realm they regard with superstitious

veneration as holy for some reason ‘ I have never known. Our custom of raising our

children in family groups seems strange to such as Koja; having observed the love and

affection we humans share between child and parent, I believe he envies us and yearns,

in the depths of his unknowable heart, to share in that closest of all bonds.

I know that my own little son, Prince Kaldar, now a chubby and tireless little rascal of

two and a half, crows with delight whenever Koja is near, laughs delightedly at his

solemn voice and expressionless face, loves to be bounced on his gaunt and bony lap,

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RenegadeofCallistoLinCarterBOOKONE-TARAN,SKYCADET1-MastersoftheUpperAirHumaningenuityisthecrowningmarvelofallCreation.And,ofalltheworksofman’sinvention,IregardtheuniqueandunparalleledornithoptersofThanatorasamongthemoreingeniousandremarkable.Toconceiveoftheverynotionofaflyingmachineinasocietywhosesc...

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