“Apologies, sir. I’ll ensure that I don’t grow complacent back here.”
“Glad to hear. Right, how are the engines holding up? You’ve had no further problems I trust?”
“Still a tad temperamental, but they’ve been functioning far better than they were.”
Folkard strode over to one of the workstations and peered at the gauges and mumbled something under his breath. Fenn was desperately trying to stay alert but the lethargy was pulling at him.
“Well, everything seems to be reading well, correct pressure… Yes. I have navigated a course that puts us out of range of the aether vortex now, so there shan’t be any trouble from now on. You must make sure that such problems in here are avoided in future. For example, had a Russian ironclad been following us…”
Fenn’s ears pricked up at those words. Folkard turned from the controls and stared at him, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.
“Sir, we would be able to avoid an ironclad’s attention with ease, even if the Russians had our exact location and route,” Fenn said, his voice shaking.
“Why on Earth would the Russians ever have such delicate information? I need not remind you of the importance of the secrecy of our excursion in the aether.”
“Well, hypothetically speaking, sir.”
“Well within your hypothesis, please elaborate on how the Russians could possibly have access to such information?”
“I’m not sure, sir. I…”
“But it is your theory, is it not, Seaman?” Folkard snapped, cutting him off at the quick. “An odd theory, I must say. But perhaps you have experience in the area.”
Fenn froze, heart in his throat. The deception could not continue. “Sir, I have something to admit, as you must have guessed.”
“Enlighten me, Mister Fenn,” Folkard said, his face frighteningly impassive.
“During shore leave, in London, I was ambushed by Russian agents. They seemed to know so much about who I was; that I had served on board
Sovereign
…”
“I’ve been able to feel your guilt, Fenn! I’d prayed for the sake of the Navy that your trouble was nothing of magnitude, but now I see you for what you are!” Folkard’s voice bellowed through the engine room, causing Fenn to retreat from his attentive posture.
“No, sir, I…” He took a step back and lost his footing as one of his shoes was drawn to a low laying pipe by its magnets. He quickly righted himself, banging his arm on the speaking tube and knocking the cap open in the process. He straightened himself up; he could not look weak in front of Folkard. “Sir, they beat my ribs, breaking a couple I’m sure. They threatened my family! But they only wanted to know about this mission. They…know Professor Stone is alive. Believe me, sir, I did not want to tell the Russians anything, but…” He swallowed hard. “I meant to use his alias, but the threats were too much. I…I am sorry!”
Folkard was silent for a few moments, his eyes boring into Fenn. The young seaman had heard much about the captain’s wrath, served with him on
Sovereign
for long enough. This was it; he would be strapped in irons as soon as they reached Mars.
“Does the oath that you swore on your country mean nothing to you?” Folkard asked, his voice level with menace. “Count yourself lucky that you are required to maintain this engine room. Had this been under different circumstances, you’d be rotting in the brig!” Folkard drew himself up to his full height. Despite being some inches shorter than Fenn, the seaman could not deny the power his captain carried. “Or tossed out of the airlock for treason. As soon we reach Mars you can consider yourself bound by law. Now return to your duties.”
Folkard walked swiftly out of the engine room, leave Fenn feeling numb.
He remained in the same spot for several minutes, with Folkard’s words resonating through his mind.
His career was over. Worse, his whole family would be shamed when the charges were levied against him. Better to end it now.
3.
FOLKARD WAS DELIGHTED
when Annabelle rapped on the door and joined him on the control deck.
Esmeralda 2
was now just over half way through its voyage to Mars, and it was turning into an arduous journey, what with the disturbances from the vortex, and the strange behaviour from the crew. It was pleasant to be accompanied for short periods of time when on duty, as it was ever so tedious. It was a blessing that his company wasn’t exclusive to his small collection of books; three of which he had already finished. While Folkard knew he wasn’t as young as he once was, piloting a small aether flyer hardly tested his abilities.
“We are making good time to Mars then, Captain?”
Folkard, from a craned look at Annabelle when she entered, noted that she was looking fairly well given the atmosphere on the flyer. “Indeed we are, Miss Annabelle, past the half way mark now. And how have you been keeping?”
Annabelle walked up to the idle chair adjacent to Folkard’s and sat, strapping herself in. “Not brilliantly. Nathanial continues to act in an erratic fashion, but that merely supplements my true worries.”
“What is bothering you?”
Annabelle did not answer immediately, and when she did she spoke hesitantly. “I don’t want to sound like one who belongs in an asylum but, I have been hearing things.”
Folkard paused. “Things?”
“Well, one thing to be precise: A child.”
Folkard looked out into space, but his eyes were fixed on the small girl who was still running from him. “Don’t count yourself alone in that, Miss Annabelle. I thought it was my mind playing tricks, but I have heard it, too,” he said. “I first though it was the result of a practical joke, but seemingly not.”
There was silence. Folkard saw something in the corner of his eye. He shot a look out at the aether, but only the stars were to be seen. Annabelle craned her head to gain a look.
Nothing.
A sound became audible, slowly seizing their attention. Folkard and Annabelle snapped out of their gazes and paused. Fluctuating in volume, it continued, dominating the control room.
Folkard turned his head, it was a voice, ghostly and distorted. If Folkard did not know better he would have claimed the voice to be that of Seaman Fenn, but that was ludicrous, after all Fenn was in the engine room. What was the voice saying? He strained himself to hear.
Russians?
Folkard and Annabelle turned and shared a look of mutual bewilderment.
“I assume you heard that, Captain?”
Folkard nodded grimly.
4.
A DIM HUMMING
emitted from beneath the cot, disturbing Nathanial from his sleep. Not that he minded so much, after all the intensity of his dreams had not abated, although beside him, Arnaud continued snoring peacefully. It was a steady pulsing beat, not unlike the sound a heart makes when heard through a stethoscope.
If the laboratory had been closer to the engine room, Nathanial could have passed the noise off as an effect of the boilers or some such. Irked by the constant intrusion he finally opened his eyes.
Had the noise been there before? He supposed it might have, but regardless, it was becoming unbearable. Nathanial looked at Arnaud and began to question himself. If the geologist could sleep through the humming, was he really hearing it? It wouldn’t be entirely unheard of. Especially given the strangeness of their trip from Earth so far.
Pressing his ear to the cot, the sound became clearer, quieting when he moved his head back up. It was definitely not imagined. He got up from the cot and looked at Arnaud. How in heaven’s name could he sleep through it? Thinking of Arnaud’s long time in the depths of Ceres, Nathanial supposed Arnaud had slept through worse.
He kneeled down, peering into the darkness underneath the cot, and reached an arm out. The only thing that he felt was Arnaud’s leather satchel. Indecision wrought his mind. He did not wish to pry into his friend’s possession without permission, but the humming was definitely coming from within the satchel—he could feel the vibration through the leather. He could not help but give in to the intrigue; he blamed the scientist in him, always wanting to know the answer. Having no desire to disturb Arnaud, Nathanial took the satchel over to the workstation and, glancing back at the Frenchman to confirm he was indeed still sleeping, proceeded to slip open the clasp of the satchel and remove its contents.
His first thought was that it must be some sort of joke. Rising off the table and floating in front of him was an inch thick, hexagonal plate. Recognition brought with it an unwanted memory. His first trip to Mercury last year, and similar plates formed around the body of Professor Fournier—an image that left quite an impression.
Without thinking, he made his way across the room and shook Arnaud awake. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, still shaking him, ignoring the look of shock on Arnaud’s tired face.
“
Que l’enfer
?
”
“How could you, Arnaud? You know exactly what the plates are. You fool!”
Arnaud’s grogginess dissipated and his eyes enlarged as he regained his senses. He looked first at Nathanial, then around the room until his gaze fell on the desk where the plate still floated. He closed his eyes and sighed. “It is not so simple,
mon confére
,” he said, eyes still closed.
“It is very simple,” Nathanial scoffed. “This explains everything: the weird dreams, the hearing things, everyone acting oddly. It’s all to do with these plates. They are nothing but trouble. You were there, Arnaud. You know what they are.” He stepped away from Arnaud, his mind running through everything that happened on Mercury. “What if Hermes is here, on this ship, trying to manifest again?”
Arnaud looked at Nathanial in worry but his expression changed to one of hope almost instantaneously. “No, remember, the souls of the dead merged with Hermes. They would not let him manifest in such a manner as before. There is just no way that they could let him trick and torment anyone like he did on Mercury.”
Nathanial wanted to argue back, but saw logic in what Arnaud was saying. Nonetheless… “Let us hope to God that what you are saying is true. It would not do well for Hermes to come back. I do not think he is overly fond of us anymore.” He grinned momentarily at Arnaud, before regaining a stern
façade
. “We have side-tracked. Why on Earth are you carrying that plate? What could have possessed you to endanger yourself…to endanger
Annabelle
in such a way?”
Arnaud looked around the laboratory as if trying to find something to help him. He gave up and sighed again. “When you left Mercury, I missed you more than I had anticipated. I carried on with my research, and hoped every day to see you again. No matter what I did, my thoughts always returned to you.” A sad look fell upon his face, as if he was remembering those times.
“I decided to go on long walks to take my mind off your absence. So unlike me,
oui
?” he added with the usual twinkle in his brown eyes. “
One night I was returning from one such walk, and I thought I heard your voice. I rushed in to my laboratory, thinking you had returned. Instead, I found a ghost of you flickering in front of me. It vanished before I could talk to it. I knew straight away it was caused by the plate that we had studied. That it must have somehow caught an imprint of you.” Arnaud took tentative steps towards Nathanial. “I’ve kept the plate ever since, because it felt like I had a part of you with me at all times, and that made me feel…it made me happy, despite the risk. I could not let you be taken away from me again.”
Nathanial looked Arnaud up and down, at a loss for words. Usually he would have had a witty retort for him, but Nathanial’s mind was rocking like a boat during a storm. Instead of continuing their conversation he headed to the door, turning back to look at Arnaud once more before leaving.
“I cannot…I need to think…” He shook his head. This was wrong. “I need to be alone,” he mumbled, hating himself for the look of hurt that took control of Arnaud’s usually joyous expression.
5.
NATHANIAL RUSHED OUT
of the laboratory, and headed directly for the one place often devoid of people. The greenhouse. He glanced through the door, checking the cost was clear, and once sure he entered. He made his way deep into the greenhouse, until he found himself by the window looking out to the aether. His reflection cast a haunted look back at him.
Just what was Arnaud doing bringing the plate on board the flyer? Or keeping it at all? He paced the greenhouse trying to calm himself. His mind was full of questions, and not enough answers for his liking. He was most fond of Arnaud, but…
What Arnaud had said; his reason for keeping the plate. It was absurd! They were both men, and this was… This was not how God made man to be. So many years he had spent wrestling with this, trying to find a reason, to understand. He had hoped that perhaps out in the aether he would meet God, and discover the truth, but since leaving he had seen so much more. Things his mind could not have imagined. And… No.
How could he explain his own feelings for Arnaud?
He started to pace the greenhouse, stopping when he caught a glimpse of someone at the rear of the room. There had definitely been no-one in the greenhouse when he had entered. How had someone managed to sneak in without his realising? He walked around to the person and caught himself.
“You… What…what are you doing here?”
The figure spun around and greeted him with a grin. The man was tall—not as tall as Nathanial, of course—with white hair. Nathanial approached him.
“Sir, what are you doing here? Did Arnaud bring you aboard somehow?”
The man looked at Nathanial and laughed a deep, fulfilled laugh. “Come now, Nathanial. There is no need for formalities now, we are well acquainted. Call me Sébastien.”
And it was true; it was Arnaud’s father, Sébastien Fontaine, looking just as he had when Nathanial had last seen him in London. “Very well, Sébastien,” he replied, regaining his senses. “Will you not tell me how you came to be aboard
Esmeralda
?
One does not simply appear on a flyer mid-…” He stopped abruptly, and thought of the Mercurian plate. “Of course, another ghost. I was right, this is all because of that damned plate.”