In last week’s episode, David was assigned as a crew member aboard the St. Paul. In this week’s episode, David sees the airship that will become his home for the first time…
David shielded his eyes against the light of the morning sun as he scanned the eastern horizon once again. The morning was growing late, and the spectacular pink and gold sunrise was now giving way to a brilliant blue sky. He still saw no sign of the St. Paul.
David returned his attention to the long line of cars and trucks arriving at the impromptu parking lot. The east gate of the Rees Training Center was open to the public today, and all along the four-mile route that led from the east gate to the Tyropoeon Valley, personnel had been stationed to flag visitors through to the viewing area.
David wore the khaki slacks and blue T-shirt emblazoned with the cross and globe logo representing PIRA, the Parousia International Relief Agency. He’d been issued these shortly after returning to the Tyropoeon Valley HR office to sign the paperwork Patricia Craigen prepared for him. He was not quite over feeling embarrassed around her, but she never let slip any indication that she held David in low esteem. He appreciated that.
His job today was parking lot detail. They’d canceled all of the scenarios and drafted all the role players to help direct the cars that were making their way from the east gate to the graveled area they had marked with traffic cones and safety tape for visitors to stop and view the approach of the great craft. David waved car after car into neat lines until the arrivals started petering out late in the morning.
Once all the cars were parked, David headed back to his room to pack. Patricia Craigen had told him to be ready to leave for Tanzania that evening and issued him a single ‘jump bag,’ explaining that it was the only piece of luggage he would be allowed to take due to weight restrictions. She also gave him a packing list and sent him to the supply shack to be issued special gear.
As David strolled along the row designated explicitly for media, he saw a dour-looking reporter in a somewhat rumpled grey suit standing in front of a cameraman who was operating the biggest camera David had ever seen. They were filming next to a brightly painted news van with an enormous microwave transmitting antenna extended skyward on a boom twenty feet tall.
After some discussion with the cameraman about backgrounds and lighting, the reporter waited for his cue and then began his prepared remarks: “At nearly 100 yards long, the St. Paul is almost the length of a football field, and as tall as a seven-story building. The Lockheed Martin LMH-1 Hybrid Airship is a technological marvel that represents the vanguard of a new era in aviation. In this historic voyage, she will be the first ship of her kind to cross the Atlantic Ocean.”
The reporter seemed to be listening to a question being relayed to a hidden earbud. He grinned broadly at the question and replied, “I’m glad you asked, Mike.” Then he described the St. Paul like a teenager talks about a hot rod. “She’s got four V6 diesel-fueled engines, each delivering 300 horsepower to advanced variable pitch, thrust-vectoring propeller systems. The St. Paul can transport up to twenty tons of emergency relief supplies up to 1,600 miles before refueling.”
The reporter cupped one hand to his ear. He replied, “Yes, that’s right, Mike. Global Multimodal Logistics is the organization that donated the St. Paul and five of her sister ships to provide ‘last mile’ delivery capability for heavy and bulky goods required by disaster relief logistics networks….” He continued talking about GML’s project with another aerospace firm to one day develop electric engines and a solar panel system that would cover her envelope, and give her an essentially unlimited range, but David didn’t have time to stick around for the details.
David continued down the row of parked vehicles and noticed what looked to be a much smaller operation. There was no news van, and the camerawoman held a small portable device. The reporter was pretty, and David paused to hear what she was talking about.
“Hello everyone, this Is Tamia Smith with the Hermiston Herald, and today I’m standing here with Jake Rawlins, the President of the Hermiston Faith in Action Network. He is here to explain the unique collaboration between the arrival of the St. Paul and BarrelSafe Shelter, an international agency dedicated to providing emergency shelter to families that have lost their homes to disaster.”
“Thanks, Tamia,” Rawlins said. To David, the newly elected President of FAN was attempting to portray a stern and serious businessman’s image. He was failing at that, however, because his buoyant enthusiasm betrayed his youth, excitement, and pride at the day’s event. “As you know, the St. Paul is ideally suited for these types of emergency responses. The Hermiston Faith in Action Network was instrumental in establishing the link between the St. Paul’s logistics capabilities and the BarrelSafe Shelter tents that they will be delivering to Tanzania.”
“Could you describe that relationship?” Smith tucked a stray wind-blown lock of her hair behind one ear.
“Well, yes,” Rawlins said, nodding, clearly enjoying the attention. “Shortly after we first learned about the torrential rains ravaging East Africa, we received a call from Mitch Anderson, the vice president of Intermodal Technologies in Chicago. He explained that the St. Paul was also based out of Hermiston and asked if we would use our contacts with BarrelSafe Shelter to see if there was anything she could do to help them out.”
“How does the local Hermiston Faith in Action Network fit in with an international relief agency like BarrelSafe Shelter?” Smith followed with.
If possible, Rawlins’ smile grew even bigger. “Most people don’t know that BarrelSafe Shelter began as a FAN project in Cornwall, England, back in 2000. Since then, the partnership between the two agencies has been synergistic; FAN provides a great deal of support and coordination at the local level for BarrelSafe Shelter operations in countries throughout the world…”
As David cut across the parking lot towards the office, he passed yet another news van with its boom extended. By now, there was an interview taking place that was already well underway, and the immaculately dressed reporter asked a very distinguished-looking man about specific details of the St. Paul’s upcoming mission.
“Dr. Larbonne, is it true that the St. Paul is not the only airship delivering relief supplies to the flood victims in Tanzania?”
David gasped in amazement. Dr. Larbonne? He could barely recognize the Nasi of the Sanhedrin Council without his rabbinical costume. Without the flowing headdress, stone-encrusted ephod, and faux facial hair, there was almost no clue that the man standing before the camera was the same person who recently facilitated David’s recent RLV session. Dr. Larbonne appeared as a tall, lanky, clean-shaven gentleman in a plain blue blazer with a white shirt that he wore open at the collar. His silver-gray hair had the remnants of the blond that must have adorned the youthful head. But it was now cut short at the sides and combed into a dramatic swoosh in front that seemed to resist all the efforts of the moderate breeze to dislodge it. He wore rimless, rectangular-cut glasses, and David wondered if they were XR glasses or just normal ones.
“Oui, the St. Paul is the only airship delivering relief supplies, but she ees not the only airship responding to the disaster.”
David recognized the doctor’s French accent at once.
“There ees one other airship that has been called into service. She is a Chinese vessel, the Yuanmeng. That means ‘Dream.’ And she recently launched from her base in Mongolia. This is an extremely high-altitude surveillance vehicle that can operate for extended periods using only solar power. It is interesting to note that the Yuanmeng class of airships came initially from a French design by a company called Flying Whales.”
“So, the Chinese airship will not be providing relief to Africa?”
“No, that ees not quite right.” In his typically patient manner, Dr. Larbonne carefully explained some of the distinctions. “The Yuanmeng will be providing relief support of an entirely different sort. Her capabilities involve communication and surveillance. With the damaged infrastructure of Tanzania, she has been asked to route the bulk of the country’s telecommunication systems through her platform until the terrestrial infrastructure is repaired.”
“I see,” the reporter replied, nodding sagely. “And no other airships will be responding?”
“Ah…” Larbonne suddenly understood the intent of this reporter’s line of questioning: she wanted to know more about what some in the press were now calling “The Race.”
The reporter forged ahead, obviously trying to generate a headline. “We’ve heard that there is a fierce competition building between different airship industries.”
“I see,” Larbonne said quietly. His smile was genuine and disarming as if he was explaining to a young person, when he continued: “It’s true that there are several interests actively working above the Arctic Circle, including Hybrid Air Freighters out of England.”
David could tell the reporter thought there was more information forthcoming by the way she just returned Larbonne’s knowing look and kept the microphone pointed at him. Her tactic worked, so Larbonne continued. “For small cargo and short hops, the Canadian start-up, Solar Ships, has been performing magnificently with their smaller Wolverine class airships, although they have recently test-flown a Nanuq class prototype with a payload capacity very similar to the St. Paul’s. Plus, they seem to have mastered the use of solar electric technology for propulsion.”
“What about the big prize, Dr. Larbonne? Dominance of the global air cargo routes?”
“Ah, well this is another matter entirely,” he replied smoothly, unperturbed. “You see, for vessels such as these, financial economies of scale are only achieved with cargo capacities above fifty tons, and as you may already know, both GML and Aeros Aluminum Airships are in the design phase for their own super-jumbo carriers with payloads approaching 1,000 tons. I believe this is the ‘Big Prize’ that you are interested in?” Leaning forward slightly, Larbonne raised both eyebrows inquisitively and awaited her next question.
Seeming frustrated by not getting the story she wanted, the reporter came straight to the point. “But the mission to Tanzania; is it just a coincidence that it’s the same country where the new helium reserve is being developed?”
“Certainly, the flight of the St. Paul will serve as an important proof-of-concept test, but I assure you that our mission there is designed to serve the people of Tanzania. The St. Paul is just too small to be of any economic significance.”
The interview was interrupted by the sound of cheers building slowly from the parking lot’s far end. As more visitors located the source of the excitement, some began to lay on their car horns, and like a slowly rising wave of sound, it built to a crescendo.
David turned, and he saw her then, hanging pearl-white in the sky, framed elegantly against the distant backdrop of distant clouds in blue-tinted shades of gray and white. The St. Paul seemed radiant and alive with light as she soared majestically into her aerodrome. David held his breath, and he felt as though his heart soared with her.
Mesmerized, David stood transfixed as he watched the great craft slowly beat her way against the gentle westerly headwind and begin her final descent to the empty field that lay just outside the boundaries of the Tyropoeon Valley Center. The ‘runway,’ if it could be called that, was just a mile-long section of empty field that had been recently mowed to remove excess brush and tumbleweeds. The St. Paul’s nose flared slightly, and coverings retracted back to reveal her Air Cushion Landing System, or ACLS. These were the three large hovercraft-style landing gear of the St. Paul that allowed her to take off and land from any flat surface, including water. There was a loud, distinctive whir as the ducted fans spun up to pressurize the system, inflating first the rugged, flexible skirt, followed by a dense curtain of inflated ‘fingers’ extending below.
To David, it appeared as if the ship slowly descended straight down, landing much as a helicopter does. However, when the air cushion generated by the ACLS system made contact with the sandy soil, it kicked up a billowing dust cloud, and David could tell that she still maintained some degree of forward momentum. The rear-right ACLS touched down first, followed by the rest of the ship in a slightly bumpy landing that rocked the craft gently from side to side before finally settling down to taxi to the large, circular gravel pad located close to where the support crews waited for her.
The pilot pulled the St. Paul forward past the gravel pad and then did something David found quite remarkable. He adjusted the thrust-vectoring propellers and slid the entire airship sideways, aligning her rear cargo doors for loading and unloading on the gravel pad while still keeping her nose pointed into the wind.
The whirring sound of the ACLS changed then, and the variable pitch blades within the ducted fans reversed direction and sucked the air out of the system rather than blew it in. The result was for the entire ship to sink and grip the ground. Without any external mooring or infrastructure, the St. Paul was effectively parked.
A local DJ was on the scene with his radio station. Through a portable loudspeaker he shouted, “Welcome home St. Paul!” David could see the pilot waving from the cockpit, as loud country music bellowed forth in greeting. The crowd of onlookers began to mingle about, enjoying refreshments purchased from vendors in food trailers as the crowd devolved into a general sense of revelry.
While the propellers on the St. Paul’s hull spun down, two trucks approached the cockpit from opposite sides. One truck was marked water, the other diesel, and the drivers got out and set up traffic cones to prevent anyone from wandering into their work area. They proceeded to connect long hoses to the ballast and fuel hatches located along the sides of the St. Paul’s gondola. David could see the pilot and co-pilot through the large acrylic windshield conducting some final procedures in the cockpit. By now, the entire front of the cabin was barely peeking out from underneath what appeared to David as a massive mushroom-shaped balloon.
The crowd slowly dispersed, and while David directed traffic back towards the city, he had a good opportunity to observe the St. Paul’s ground crew at work. The main cargo door at the rear of the aircraft opened in the rear of the St. Paul, and a flatbed cargo truck pulled onto the gravel landing pad and then slowly and carefully backed up against the aluminum decking of her cargo bay. Two men were communicating with the driver as he guided the truck, and they placed rubber bumpers to avoid damaging the lightweight material. With more whirring and clanking of equipment, metal cables were unwound from large spools on the flatbed truck, and the landing crew went to work connecting them to some containers located inside the cargo bay.
“C’est magnifique, no?” Came the sound of Dr. Larbonne’s voice close to him. David had not noticed his approach.
“Oh, yes,” he said breathlessly.
David could not know it now, but he’d just been introduced to the ship that would become his home and one of the great loves of his life.
“Come along, monsieur Wilson,” Larbonne chided him gently; “You will have plenty of time to gaze at this lady. But now, you must get ready and be at the mission brief on time. The St. Paul sets sail in the morning!”