Although he frustrated her greatly with his proper ways, she was thankful for his protection, for keeping her safe, for allowing her to stay with him at the Whites’ in Chatham Dockyard, even letting her bully him into joining him on his first trip to Venus. At the time she did not appreciate the effort he had made, the responsibility he had taken on when he agreed to her care out of respect for Uncle Cyrus.
Annabelle looked down. She had been so cruel to him back then, and now she felt ashamed.
“
Je viens de ton trouver, mon toujours,
” Arnaud said, and reached up to peck Nathaniel gently on the cheek. Annabelle pretended not to notice, but she smiled despite herself, glad that Folkard was already manning the control deck and Fenn was safely locked away in the engine room. She doubted either man would understand this display, and would most certainly be disgusted by it.
“I know, and now I must save you.” Nathaniel looked over at Annabelle. “Save you all.”
Annabelle put her hand to her mouth, feeling the sting of tears. She held them back. No, she would be strong for Nathaniel. Her protector.
Silently Arnaud turned away, but he was prevented from leaving by Nathaniel’s hand, which clasped Arnaud’s tightly. The two men looked at each other, but there were no more words that could be said. Arnaud returned to his lab, their arms reaching out until, finally, their fingers could no longer touch. The door closed behind him, and with a thump it locked tightly, sealing him against the forthcoming vacuum.
She walked over to Nathaniel, wanting to hug him, hold him and not let him go. But the cumbersome atmosphere suit would not allow that. In some ways, and God forgive her for thinking this, Nathaniel was more important to her than George. The love she had for Nathaniel was quite unlike that which she had for George, and he had been by her side through so much. She could not honestly have asked for a better friend.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Memories,” she replied. “It is nothing.”
“No,” he said, holding her hand. “Memories are all we have, ultimately. Every experience leaves a memory, and is that which makes us the people we are. I take with me so many happy memories of us.” He smiled sadly, and reached for the helmet of his suit. “If only things had been different, my dear Miss Somerset.”
She helped him secure the seal of the helmet, and looked at him through the glass. He offered her a final smile then turned to leave. She knew she should enter her cabin, pressurise the door, before he reached the airlock, but she could not move.
“Stop,” she cried, so sudden she surprised herself.
He stopped.
So many thoughts rushed through her head. “Please, I don’t want you go, Nathaniel. I…”
With no further response, he continued towards the airlock.
5.
WATCHING THE AETHER
tear (if they survived this, Folkard was determined to make that an official designation for the phenomena) was like watching Ouroboros dancing in the heavens. He was far from a scholar of history, but he had an interest in Greek mythology and was aware of Plato’s story about the self-eating being—supposedly the first living creature in the universe.
Could it be that this was what he was seeing? If Stone and Fontaine were to be believed, then that plate was connected to a being as old as Mercury itself. Maybe even as old as the universe. There was clearly a connection there. It seemed the aether was rife with ancient forces—the Heart, Hermes, the aether tear. Maybe everything in the universe was connected?
Folkard closed his eyes, trying to get a sense of the Heart. He had not felt its itch in a while, probably since
Esmeralda 2
had drawn near the tear. Connected, perhaps, but that was not to say in a good way. Humanity, after all, was connected through Creation, yet they were seldom bound together in unity. Perhaps it was the same for the Heart and Hermes, and for the Heart and the aether tear.
Eyes still closed, his thoughts drifted to Stone. Over a year ago he had tested the professor’s metal by having him board
Sovereign
by walking the gangplank thousands of miles above the English Channel. The young man may have been terrified, but that had not stopped him. Since then he had built up a healthy respect for Stone, but things had not be great between them since Edwin Stone’s death. He wasn’t sure if the professor still held him responsible, but nonetheless Stone had continued to prove himself and accepted Folkard’s leadership on the current mission.
Neither man had given the other reason for doubt since leaving for Mercury in February, but since departing Earth three weeks ago… Stone had not been his usual self. Negligent in some ways. Now though, now he was out there, doing what needed to be done to save them all.
The flyer shook. Folkard’s eyes snapped open, looking directly at the tear.
Godspeed, Professor.
6.
EXCERPT 87.
“Beyond the Inner Worlds: The Journal of Professor Nathanial Stone” (Published July 2011, by Chadwick Press)
Sunday July 6
th
, 1890.
Secrets are difficult to share, but it seems that sometimes they are not needed to be spoken. I see Annabelle looking sometimes at Arnaud and I and I am certain she can see the truth. Neither Arnaud nor I talk of such things, but it is there. Will we ever find the courage to utter the words? To confess? How would we live if we were to do so? Perhaps we should never make a declaration of such things. The truth would damn us both.
I thought that having Arnaud here would make things easier for me. Perhaps I was being selfish, needing some kind of solace after the death of Edwin, and, in some respects, the death of myself. I had insisted on him joining us, that we
needed
his expertise on this mission. Many were opposed to having a Frenchman involved in such a clandestine mission, but his worth has been proven. To the point that even Folkard has accepted him as a bona fide member of the team. And yet…
I feel uneasy with Arnaud being here. My feelings for him grow ever deeper, and we sleep in such an intimate way now, in a way unbecoming two men. We dare not speak of these feelings, and if we were to be discovered… Well, one suspects Labouchere and his cronies would have their day. A Subject of the Crown such as I. Seven years minimum… What a fall it would be!
Arnaud closed the journal. He could read no more; not that there was much more to read. That was the start of the last entry, written two weeks ago. Had things become so hectic on
Esmeralda 2
that Nathaniel ran out of time to write up further entries? It seemed so unlikely; his
confére
always found the time for his journal.
Never again.
Anger bubbled up inside him, seemingly coming from nowhere. Perhaps this is what he wanted? Together their lives would be impossible. Easier to give up.
Arnaud shook his head. No, that was unfair to Nathaniel. He was giving up his life for those he loved—was there a greater expression of love? He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rocking of the flyer. Nathaniel may indeed save them all, but Arnaud would lose so much as a result. He held the journal tightly, and whispered the words of his father’s favourite poem; Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s
Asunder
.
N’apprenons qu’à mourir à nous-mêmes.
Ne demande qu’à Dieu…qu’à toi, si je t’aimais!
Au fond de ton silence écouter que tu m’aimes,
C’est entendre le ciel sans y monter jamais.
7.
SHE REMEMBERED THE
story Nathaniel told her of his first walk into the aether—scaling the hull of
Peregrine
with Holmes, Fullbright and Provost to fix the stabilisers. At the time she was being held by Dolan; battered, bruised and degraded. But afterward, while being returned to Earth on
Sovereign
, he had explained to her what it was like to be out in the aether, with no world to hold on to. The very notions of up and down irrelevant. And now he was out there again, only this time it seemed unlikely he would return.
How could he?
Esmeralda 2
could not pull away from the aether tear, and she had engines working in her favour, all Nathaniel had was his strength. His ability to hold onto the hull of the flyer, while the plate and the tear reacted,
pulled
at each other, would be as nothing. What good was man’s strength against the primal forces of the universe?
Her breath shuddered, racking pain in her chest. She would not cry—she would not! She would be strong for Nathaniel, show him the respect he deserved.
“Oh, Nathaniel,” she said, the words escaping as a breath of hurt. “I will miss you…so very dearly.”
A knock on the door of her cabin stole her from the pain, and she looked up. Was it over already? Certainly
Esmeralda
seemed to be shaking less. She gathered her strength inside, attempting to prepare herself for a life without Nathaniel. What would she do? Continue on with this mission, or book a passage back to Earth once they made Mars-fall? Right now all she wanted to do was see George. He would know what to do.
“Nathaniel!”
She almost fainted at the relief, thinking that she was getting delirious again. She reached out a hand, letting it rest softly on the cold material of the atmosphere suit, made all the more colder by exposure to the aether.
He smiled at her through the helmet. The words she could barely make out, but that did not matter. Nathaniel was there, standing before her! She reached up and helped him unseal the helmet.
“How did you…?”
He shook his head, the ginger hair looking like a dirty brown through sweat. “I did not need to do much—the plate knew where it wanted to be. I simply let it go…home, I suppose.”
While Nathaniel removed the atmosphere suit, Annabelle returned to the control deck to inform Folkard of Nathaniel’s success. All they needed to do now was manoeuvre
Esmeralda
away from the tear, assuming it was still out there. Perhaps, now it had the plate, the tear itself would close.
The sight that greeted her upon entering the control deck, however, only served to destroy her optimism. Folkard wrestled furiously with the propeller wheel, while barking orders down the pipe to Fenn. He noticed Annabelle enter, and nodded her to the empty chair.
“It would appear Stone sacrificed himself for naught,” he said, his eyes returning to the view outside.
Annabelle looked. The tear was still there, only now it seemed to be worse, opening up like some maw waiting to consume them. But Nathaniel had said… She turned back to the captain. “I do not understand; Nathaniel let the plate…” She stopped abruptly, her dark eyes resting on the worst sight she had ever seen. Just behind the captain’s seat, looking like it was part of the bulkhead, was the Mercurian plate.
Chapter Nine
“Full of Sound and Fury,
Signifying Nothing”
1.
“
WHAT THE DEUCE
?” Folkard reached up for the plate, but it would not move. He looked at Annabelle. “How did this get here? I thought the professor…”
Annabelle could offer no explanation. She had been there; she had seen him enter the airlock. He said he disposed of the plate; why would he lie? She shook her head. This was silly. “How can it possibly be here? I saw Nathaniel with it; he took it to the airlock with him!” She thought back; had it been in his possession when he returned? No, she would have seen it. And he had no time to store it elsewhere. No, that was ridiculous. Even if he had returned with it, how could he have got it to the control deck without being seen?
“Could there have been more than one?” Folkard asked.
She shook her head. If there had been then either Arnaud or Nathaniel would have told her, of that she was sure. Either way, it still did not explain how the plate could have mysteriously appeared on the control deck. There was always someone there, and recently it had only been Folkard and she. “I can’t explain it. Maybe we should ask Nathaniel?”
“He has returned?” Folkard stared at her.
Annabelle wasn’t entirely sure she liked the look of surprise on the captain’s face. Honestly, after everything he and Nathaniel had been through together, she would have expected at least a small show of relief.
Folkard nodded curtly. “Then by all means bring him here, although what good it will do I cannot see.” He indicated the scene outside the flyer. “We’re still being pulled in, and there is simply nothing further we can do to prevent our demise.”
“Captain!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Somerset, but that is the short of it.”
Annabelle could not believe it. She had never seen the captain defeated before; even after the last visit to Luna when he’d first discovered the influence of the Heart, and he all but resigned his commission. He had bounced back, worked with Bedford to clear both her and Nathaniel’s names. He was not prone to defeat.
She stood from her seat. “We will find a way out of this, Captain. We do not give up. Or so I’ve always been led to believe from you.” Just as she made to move, the flyer rocked so violently that she found herself being flung through the air into the door. The deck continued to vibrate around her; the orrery crashed to the grating, soon followed by the aetherlabe.
She made to stand, but found her mechanical leg unresponsive. She lifted the petticoat of her dress, aghast to see the leg being wrenched from her knee as if by some unknown force. She fought back the scream of pain, tears in her eyes. Tearing at the skin of her knee joint, the leg tore away and flew across the control deck where it fastened itself to the bulkhead facing the aether tear.
“Captain, I…”
Folkard didn’t seem to notice. He only had eyes for the energy storm outside. “This is it,” he said, “we’re going in!”