Nathaniel turned his back to them both. “Then perhaps your suspicions of the real cause of this predicament have been discarded all too quickly,” he said darkly.
Arnaud and Folkard turned to exchange puzzled looks in perfect unison. Arnaud wanted to say something, but words failed him. He had seen Nathaniel dismissive of people before, but never at risk to his friends.
“What the devil are you talking about, man?” Folkard barked.
Any reaction from Nathaniel was brushed aside by a loud cracking sound, echoing throughout the flyer. The vessel rocked, causing Arnaud and Folkard to lose their footing.
“We’re entering the horizon of the rip,” Folkard announced from his position on the metal grating of the lab.
Arnaud looked up to Nathaniel, but he was no longer standing, instead he was stretched out awkwardly on the cot, a trickle on blood on his forehead.
Chapter Eight
“Whence Honour Springs”
1.
AS THE LAB
continued to shake, Arnaud scrambled over to the cot and checked Nathaniel. He was coming around, his eyelids flickering. “Arnaud, what is…?”
“
Soyez tranquille, mon confére.
” Arnaud reached for Nathaniel’s head, and wiped away the blood with his sleeve, revealing a very small cut. He must have hit his head on the bulkhead when the flyer shook. “Are you okay?”
Nathaniel blinked. “I think so. What the devil is happening?” His eyes flickered around the lab, following the cracking sound. “The vortex?”
“If, indeed, that is what it is,” Folkard said, returning to his feet.
Nathaniel shook his head, as Arnaud helped him to stand. “I do not understand. What else could it be?”
“That is what we came to ask you, Professor. Your precious governor is failing to have any effect whatsoever, and now we have the added problem of that plate Fontaine here brought with him from Mercury.”
Arnaud could not blame Nathaniel for looking confused; he, too, was confused. But mostly by Nathaniel’s shift in attitude. Only moments ago he seemed cold, provocative even. To assuage Nathaniel’s confusion, he explained about the plate and the effect it seemed to be having on the non-vortex. The ship rocked again.
“That cracking sound is
Esmeralda 2
straining from the pull of that tear out there,” Folkard added, once Arnaud had finished. “She was not designed to survive an aether vortex, never mind a rip in the aether.”
Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “It’s like
Peregrine
all over again.”
“Worse I should wager,” Folkard said, rather pointedly Arnaud thought. Still the captain felt some blame lay at Nathaniel’s feet.
“How long do we have?” Arnaud asked.
“I cannot say. If it were a vortex we would have experience by which to estimate, but that
thing
…”
“Is there anything we have yet to try in the engine room?” Nathaniel asked. “Perhaps if I look at the governor? I’m certain I can fix this. It was designed to help navigate a vortex after all. On
Sovereign
, surely you must remember, Captain, how easily we sailed the vortex then?”
Arnaud was still confused. Nathaniel was acting like a wild thing, clutching at straws. He knew that Nathaniel’s experience with
Peregrine
had a profound effect on him, but this reaction was at odds with his earlier composure. Can a man’s attitude shift so radically in so short a time? Without the influence of cognac Arnaud would have usually said no.
“Professor, you appear to be missing the point. That is
not
an aether vortex out there. Your governor is of no use now—if, perhaps, you had bothered to tell me that we were having problems with the governor
before
we got into this predicament then we’d have some kind of solution to grasp hold of.”
For a moment the coldness returned to Nathaniel’s eyes, but then it was gone. He looked directly at Arnaud. “The plate. You say it’s reacting to this aether tear?”
Arnaud nodded. “
Oui.
And the…
aether tear
…is reacting to the plate. I do not understand why.”
“Unimportant,” Nathaniel said with a wave. Arnaud wasn’t sure he agreed on that point, but for now their survival was of more importance. “Perhaps if we dispose of it? Destroy it! Remove the metal and the magnet is little more than another piece of metal.”
Destroy it?
Arnaud stepped in front of Nathaniel. “
Mon confére
, you cannot do this. You know what this means to me.”
Folkard spoke up. “Your personal attachment to this plate of yours is beside the point.”
Arnaud span on Folkard. “And if it was your copy of
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?
Would that also be beside the point?” Folkard’s cheeks flared. Arnaud knew he was wrong to bring up such a thing, he was almost betraying a confidence, but he could
not
let the plate go. It held Nathaniel’s imprint, kept him close at all times.
He felt a hand rest on his shoulders, and Nathaniel spoke to him softly. “Arnaud, I am
here
right now.
Ton confére.
You do not need the plate.”
Arnaud glanced back and looked up at Nathaniel’s grey eyes. He could not explain it, but a strange sense of contentment overwhelmed him, and he nodded. “
Mon toujours,
” he said softly.
My always.
2.
THE THREE OF
them made haste to the engine room, Fontaine carrying the plate close to his person. Folkard could not blame him for his attachment to it; he, too, had things of personal value with which he did not wish to part. But if it meant losing such things to save the lives of his crew, then he would not hesitate. And Fontaine would have to do the same.
Fenn looked up from his workings, scrambling about the engine room in a vain attempt to get the most out of the boiler and the aether propeller. Folkard wasted no time in explaining the situation, keeping his eye on Fontaine all the while. He and Stone stood to one side, conferring among themselves. Folkard was, once again, uncertain of Stone’s motives. He had thought that he’d finally got the cut of Stone, but recent events had brought all his doubts to the surface once more.
“I have a hammer,” Fenn said, reaching for such. “That should be able to make a pretty dent at the very least.”
“A hammer?” Folkard was incredulous. He was hoping for something more, but perhaps brute force was the answer. “Very well. Doctor Fontaine?”
The Frenchman looked at him with something like fear in his eyes. Stone whispered something in Fontaine’s ear, and with a nod he unwrapped the cloth from around the plate and placed it on the nearest workstation. Fenn and Folkard joined the scientists, and raised the hammer. Fontaine took a sharp breath.
“Wait,” he said.
“Doctor, now is not the time to be squeamish,” Folkard pointed out, irritation building in him.
Fontaine shook his head. “
Non
, but if anyone is to do this, it should be me. I…I am to blame for all this.”
Folkard had no time for such introspection. Action was required. “We can parse blame later, right now we need to destroy this thing and hope we can get clear of the aether tear.” He nodded at Fenn. “Give the doctor the hammer.”
Fenn did so, and without a moment’s hesitation Fontaine swung the hammer and brought it crashing down on the plate. Not even a scratch. Not to be deterred, he struck again, and once more the hammer had no discernible effect on the plate.
Broad he may have been, but Folkard did not reckon much on Fontaine’s strength. He asked for the hammer, deciding that, if anyone was going to save the ship, then it should be him. Certainly he was the strongest of the men on
Esmeralda
. He glanced at Stone, who was standing away from the three of them, his arms folded over his chest, watching silently. No, not watching,
observing
. Folkard narrowed his eyes. Stone would keep for later, if they all survived.
Summoning all the strength he could muster, Folkard brought the hammer down on the plate. The head of the hammer flew off the handle, careering through the air, missing Stone by an inch before bouncing off the bulkhead behind him. Meanwhile the plate, vibrated by the impact, spun on its axis and shot off the workstation to land on Fontaine’s foot. The Frenchman jumped back with a screech of pain, holding his foot in a fashion that would, under other circumstances, be comical, before toppling over due to his one foot being cemented to the decking by the magnet in his shoe.
Folkard looked to the handle in his hand.
“Well I think it’s safe to say that did not work.”
Stone picked up the hammer head and looked at it curiously. “No, indeed.” He glanced at Fontaine. “How is your foot?”
“Bruised,” Fontaine said, tentatively rising to his feet and testing his weight. “But I should live.”
“For now,” Folkard said grimly. He handed the hammer handle back to Fenn, looking like a child whose favourite toy had been broken. “Any other suggestions, gentlemen?”
“What about melting the plate?” Nathaniel suggested so quickly Folkard wondered if he had been harbouring the idea for some time.
Fenn shook his head. “That would deplete the oxygen levels, Prof; we couldn’t do that.”
“The ability to breathe will hardly be an issue either way, soon, Mister Fenn,” Folkard reminded him. He turned to Fontaine. “I believe you have a Bunsen burner?”
3.
THE FLAME FLICKERED
around the plate, causing the crystal to change colour, mimicking the angry blue of its source. Arnaud leaned in closer, amazed by what he was seeing. The flame was not
touching
the plate, merely dancing around it. He could not help but admire its beauty.
“Impervious,” Nathaniel commented behind him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Arnaud, but did we not see damaged plates on Mercury?”
Folkard interrupted. “Is this relevant, Stone? For whatever reason, the plate does indeed seem impervious now.”
Arnaud ran a finger over his lip. “Perhaps due to its proximity to the aether tear? Strengthening its molecular structure.”
“Is that even possible?”
Arnaud shrugged at Folkard’s question, and waved his hand at the plate.
“Apparemment.”
He turned to Nathaniel. “If we cannot melt it down, what can we do? It is
imperméable
to all attempts to destroy it. What have we left?”
In one way Arnaud was glad to see the plate resist. Although Nathaniel was there, Arnaud knew that he would not always be so. How could he? Once the mission was over and all the minerals were collected, what would keep them together? His usefulness to the British Government would be over, and he doubted even his father would be able to influence any further involvement from Arnaud. At least with the plate in his possession he would always have something of Nathaniel.
“The only solution left to us is to give the plate to the aether tear,” Nathaniel said softly. “It seems they are attracted to each other, and perhaps we ought not stand in their way any further.”
Arnaud swallowed. Nathaniel’s eyes did not leave his as he spoke. They lingered for a few moments longer, before he pulled them away and looked over at Folkard. The captain appeared not to notice. He was looking at the plate, still going through the spectrum of colour, and stroking his beard.
“How would you suggest we do that, Stone?” Folkard asked, only now looking at them.
“One of us will have to take the plate outside the flyer.”
Arnaud looked at Nathaniel in horror. “You cannot be serious? That is suicidal. Whoever would do such a thing?”
The three stood in silence, looking at each other before Folkard spoke up. “I must do it. As the captain of this flyer, it rests with me to look after its safety, and that of the crew. I have lived a full life, without regret. There is no need to waste your lives.”
“You cannot!” Arnaud said forcefully. “This is my fault, my responsibility. If anyone should do it, it should be me. We would not be here if it was not for my stupidity.”
Nathaniel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “I will not let anyone else die,” he said. “There is too much of that on my conscience already.” He considered Folkard carefully. Arnaud was not privy to everything that had occurred between the two men in London, but he understood enough to know that Nathaniel was talking of his younger brother who had died then. Over the past few months Nathaniel had wrestled with that, shifting the blame from himself to Folkard and back again. “I will not be able to live with any more death.”
Folkard held Nathaniel’s look. “If you do that, Stone, you will most certainly be sucked into the tear.”
“I am aware of that, Captain, but I am the least of us. Besides, on Earth I am already dead. William Brooker I am not.” He shook his head. “I can never return to my family, I will forever be hidden from them, living this lie in service of the British Empire. No, I cannot live like that once this mission is complete. I have to do this.”
4.
IT WAS MADNESS
to allow Nathaniel to throw away his life like this. Annabelle just could not believe that Folkard would allow it; there was no guarantee it would it even work. She now stood in the gangway, next to her cabin, watching as Nathaniel climbed into an atmosphere suit, Arnaud helping him.
She supposed she should feel sorry for both of them; over a year it had taken them to finally confess how they felt, and now this was it. The end for both of them. But she could not push aside her own feelings. She and Nathaniel had been through so much since Arizona. March 1888 seemed like such a long time ago. How much life could a person live in over two years? There was a time she would have said very little, but she and Nathaniel had been through
so very much
. He had saved her life more than once, became the big brother she never had. She smiled sadly, remembering how, once upon a time, she had believed that Nathaniel had
other
intentions towards her. How wrong she had been!