Daria on the Trail Dirigible Briefing
DISCLAIMER: This story is written for fun, not for profit. I do not own either A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. Nor do I own Daria Morgendorffer. The former belongs to GRR Martin and Daria belongs to MTV Viacom. This story based on the real Oregon Trail and has little or nothing to do with the computer game of the same name.
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Daria On The Trail*Daria On The Trail*Daria On The Trail
Lieutenant Stokes and I arrived at Fort Laramie's school room about thirty minutes later. Lieutenant Stokes plied me with questions about the future. I answered some of them: I also told him that a lot of the diseases that carried off so many children and adults in the here-and-now could either be prevented with vaccines or cured or with medicines. I also told him that the best way to prevent diseases was eating cooked food and drinking boiled water, good sanitation, washing, and quarantining when necessary. I also told him about hand-washing and the use of gauze masks when dealing with influenza or the common cold.
We also talked about family. Stokes came from a farm near Columbus, Ohio. He had been one of four children: two daughters and two sons. One of his sisters died from what I guessed was whooping cough. Being a younger brother and deciding that farm life was not for him, he had used his father's political connections for an appointment to West Point. He'd graduated four years before and had been posted to Fort Laramie just after the end of the Mormon War. To my amusement, I learned that he'd first been posted to Fort Adams at Newport, Rhode Island. I'd visited Newport and told him that many of the old houses were still there although some had been torn down to make room for millionaires' mansions. He was amused to hear that that the fort was now a museum, although he was annoyed to learn that the Army's presence had vanished and had been replaced by the Navy's.
I then told him about my family, about how my mother and father met in college, their time at the commune, then about our life in Texas. I told him that I'd been very unhappy in Texas and was glad to leave.
He then asked me about airships. I told him that I didn't know that much about them and that I couldn't design or build one to save my life. I did tell him that where I'd come from, they'd never become popular and that their roles been supplanted by fixed-wing aircraft. I then told him about my Uncle Ben bringing Rikka to live with us and what I'd learned about the Westerosi. I had just enough time to tell him about some of Rikka's antics when we arrived at the door of the building where I'd be briefing.
We entered and Lieutenant Stokes guided me to a room that looked like a classroom, howbeit lacking the bookshelves and the audiovisual equipment that had become prevalent by the turn of the Millennium. The room had chairs, whitewashed walls and, miracle of miracles, a chalkboard.
The room was already occupied by a woman with curly brown hair who looked to be only a couple of years older than I was.
"Hello," she said. "You must be the lecturer. I'm Samantha Carter. How do you do?" I noted her accent. She was a Northerner and by the sound of it, probably from the mid-Atlantic states or possibly the Midwest. I wondered if she was married and if so, to whom.
"I'm Daria Morgendorffer," I said. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Are you thirsty?" she said. "Would you like some water?"
"Has it been boiled?" I asked.
Ms. Carter gave me a strange look. "Yes," she said. "Although I don't see the point. Boiling makes it taste flat."
"Where I come from, boiled water prevents the transmission of many diseases by killing the germs that cause them," I said. "Many diseases in the here-and-now are caused by bacteria or viruses transmitted through contaminated drinking water. Boiling the water kills germs and reduces the risk of disease. So does washing hands."
Mrs. Carter made a face. "Those airmen said much the same thing last year," she said.
"It's common knowledge where I came from and I suspect that it was common knowledge where they came from, too," I said.
I gestured towards the wall. The room was clearly used as a schoolroom and still had the day's lessons written on it. "Is this the chalk board?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"I'm going to have to make drawings for the men's briefing," I said. "I'm going to need all of it." I said.
Ms. Carter stared at me like I was mad. "But the children's lessons," she said.
"I'm sorry," I replied, "but a dirigible is a very complicated machine and I want to do what I can to show what the men should examine or salvage."
"All right," she said and began wiping away the children's lessons. When she was done, she gave me a look that seemed to say "There. Are you happy now?"
I chose not to take the bait. I decided to pretend that I'd misread her expression.
"Thank you," I said. I then picked up a piece of chalk and went to work. By the time the other soldiers started drifting in, I'd completed side and end drawings of what I suppose a typical dirigible looked like. I included details like the framework, engines, control car, and the gas cells that provided the lift. When I was done, I turned to face my audience. This being 1860 and my audience being Army officers, my audience was all male.
Just before 3:00 PM the Colonel and his adjutant came in and the assembled offices rose to attention.
Eeep. I had a moment of panic and started sweating.
"Good afternoon," said the Colonel.
"A couple of days ago Lieutenant Potter encountered this young woman at the Sutler's Store who said that she was a displaced time traveler. After questioning her and examining some of her personal effects, I have reason to believe that she actually is one."
"Before she came out to the Great Plains, Miss Morgendorffer was a history student at a Northern college, and while her field of study was history and not engineering, she is able to discuss dirigibles," said the Colonel. "I decided to ask her to share what she knows about them in order to prepare ourselves for the salvage expedition we expect to send out to the wreck site in a few weeks."
"Miss Morgendorffer, the floor is yours."
I then introduced myself, averred any expertise concerning airship design, but letting them know that I knew of the history of the US Navy's experiments with rigid-frame airships in the 1920's and early 1930's. I then told them that I had ideas as to what components they were likely to find at the wreck site and what they should try to salvage and bring back with them.
I then explained what a dirigible was and how it differed from blimps and tethered balloon. I talked briefly about what sorts of gasses they used to provide lift, informing them that hydrogen was very dangerous.
One of the officers informed me that the dirigible crewmen used helium.
I then discussed what I knew about the Navy's experiments with dirigibles in the 1920's, their planned purpose, and that the Navy abandoned their research after three out of their four Zeppelins crashed.
As I was discussing why I believed that the dirigible had probably been brought in from somewhere else, I noted some of the officers eyeing each other and nodding. I suspected that they might have heard the same explanations from the surviving airship crew when they arrived at Fort Laramie the previous summer.
I then listed what artifacts they should salvage from the site, ranging from the large like the engines and propellers to the small and fragile like light bulbs and electrical switches.
After discussion drifted to the topic or whether or not anyone could build a dirigible in the here-and-now (I believed that it would take an inventor at least fifteen years and incredible amount of capital), the Colonel thanked me for my services and declared the briefing over.
"I think Miss Morgendorffer has not only given us much to think about but has confirmed much of what those airship crewmen told us last August," he said. He pulled out a pocket watch. "I believe that the young woman has provided ample information as to what we can expect to find at the wreck."
"Thank you for coming, Miss Morgendorffer," he said. To my surprise, I got a round of applause. The Colonel rose from his chair and walked to the lectern. "We will have another meeting in three days to plan how we will organize and equip an expedition to the crash site," he said. "Mr. Stokes, I would appreciate it if you would escort Miss Morgendorffer back to her camp site."
I gave a sigh of relief. My part was over.
Contrary to what I anticipated, the Colonel's departure was not a cue for everyone to depart. Some of the officers gathered around me and started asking me questions. I answered them as honestly as I could: that I was from Boston in 2006, that I had no idea as to how I'd traveled back in time, and that I was traveling west with a party of Emigrants. Some did ask me about the future and about my family, reminding me that the only blood relative or counterpart for miles around was Bethany Ann.
The officers began to drift out, leaving me with Lieutenant Stokes and also Marcus Ashfield. Marcus stared at each other for a moment, then I decided to make the first move.
"Marcus, I've never been good with these situations," I said. "Are we still talking to each other?" Marcus gave me a weak smile. "Can I ask if it is Marcus or is it Lieutenant Ashfield?"
"Call me Marcus," he said. "You know, I've never heard your Christian name."
"It's Daria, Daria Morgendorffer," I said.
"Seriously, I consider you and Bethany Ann the closest thing I've got to family in the here-and-now," I said.
"Surely you have other ones you could call on," he said.
"I think I'm going to leave William Barksdale of Mississippi alone," I said.
"William Barksdale the fire-eater?" he said.
"The same," I said. "That one of his descendants or her counterpart disapproves of certain aspects of Mississippi life would not make him happy."
Marcus made a wry grin, then chuckled. "No, I suppose not," he said.
I dug my cell phone camera out of my pocket and powered it up. I still had some charge left and I'd planned to save it for later on, but I'd gotten another lesson that family was important after all. I pressed a couple of buttons and my phone moved to the file mode. "Here, let me some pictures of my family," I said, showing him a group photo that one of Rikka's friends had taken of us during a visit to the house in Lawndale.
Together, the three of us began walking towards the married officers' quarters. I was a bit apprehensive as to what sort of mood Bethany Ann would be in or whether she would eve talk to me when we arrived at their quarters. Marcus knocked on the door, then went inside. Bethany Ann and a colored servant came out a short time later. Bethany Ann gave me a look of disapproval.
"So how did it go?" she said.
"I told the men what I knew and told them that I don't believe that anyone is going to fly cross-country by dirigible for at least the next ten years," I said. Her cheek muscles flexed and she almost smiled.
"So what are your plans from here?" she said.
"I plan to continue to Oregon," I said. "I figure that I still owe the Trouts for taking me in when I was out on the prairie alone and by myself. I intend to do my best to get them there."
"I'm surprised that you don't want to stay here and then find your way East," she said.
"I want to go to Oregon because I'm scared stiff of most of the diseases found east of the Missouri and I want to be someplace where I could build up my immunity before I decide what I plan to do next," I replied. "That means that I'll be leaving with the Trouts either tomorrow or the next day."
A little girl poked her head out the door and said "who is that lady, Mommy?"
Seeing her made my eyes bulge. Whoever this kid was, I was certain that she wasn't one of my ancestors. Was she someone who never existed where I came from or did her counterpart die before Bethany Ann married again?
Bethany Ann shushed her and told her that I'd be gone soon.
I paused until the little girl went back inside. "Seriously, Bethany Ann, you're the closest thing I have to blood kin out here and I consider you and Marcus family, whether we like each other or not," I said. "I wanted to say good-bye before I set out for my company's camp site and wish you well."
"She also is carrying a device that stores photographs and has pictures of some of your descendants," said Marcus. "I've seen some of them."
Bethany Ann looked at her husband as if she was going to call him out for lying, then changed her expression.
"I'd like to see some of them," she said.
I pulled out my cell phone, then showed Bethany Ann some pictures of my Mom and the rest of our family. Bethany Ann averred that Mom and Aunt Amy looked like they could be related, but did not believe that Rikka could be. By luck I had images of Grandma Barksdale and Audelia Pearson with me: I showed those to her. Bethany Ann said that Grandma Barksdale might be, then I asked the big favor.
"Could I take a photo of you all?" I said. "If I get back to where I came from, I could share these with other descendants."
"You can do that?" she said, intrigued.
"Really," I said.
Shortly afterwards, I had photos of Bethany Ann, Marcus, and their daughter Ruth. Her servant Grace declined to be photographed. I then handed my cell phone to Marcus and he took pictures of me standing next to Bethany Ann.
"I wish I could send you copies," I said, "but I don't think anyone will have the means until long after I'm dead and Ruth is a very old lady herself."
"That's all right," said Bethany Ann. "If you preserve that gadget of yours, someone will remember."
"Can I write you?" I said. "I know we disagree on certain things, but someday you might want to tell some of your other children that you met a woman going to Oregon and tell them about her adventures." Bethany Ann gave me a look that made me wonder if I was pushing my luck.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," I added "and I hope to be at the Platte River Bridge in a week or so."
Bethany Ann gave a chuckle.
"I think I can live with that," she said.
We said our goodbyes. Bethany Ann, Marcus, their daughter Ruth, and Grace went inside and closed the door.
"That went better than I expected," I said as we started back to my camp.
"What were you expecting?" said Gerald.
"The Siege of Balaclava," I replied.
