The mystery, of course, is how the seal ring came into the possession of our friend. I asked Annabelle for her opinion, but she only stared at me long enough to be rude and then said I may be the thickest man she ever knew. I requested an explanation of her remark but she refused to elaborate, still does, and I find the situation most vexing.
That said, I find it encouraging her spirits remain so high. I can hardly wait to get to a decent workshop and begin work on her replacement leg. I feel as if I am bubbling over with ideas for its refinement, and each day I add another note to my diagrams.
It will be so very good to get back home.
3.
sunlight sparkled off the serene blue water of the broad canal as the Siruahn patrol kite glided toward the green grass of the Shastapsh landing ground. The placid waters of the canal contrasted strongly with the city itself, from which a dozen or more columns of smoke rose, although Nathanial saw no evidence of open fires. Whatever violence had visited here seemed to have run its course. Whether that was good news or bad remained to be seen. The three travellers clustered at the rail, studying the ground below anxiously, but whatever misgivings they had, all remained silent.
As the kite settled to the green sward, Nathanial was relieved to see a dozen red-coated soldiers waiting in formation, their two officers—one in red, one in dark blue—Earth humans although the others were clearly locally-raised. There was nothing unusual about that; most of the Crown troops on Mars were natives with British officers.
Corporal Tolni disembarked first and presented himself to the officer while Nathanial helped Annabelle down.
“Rather nice of them to send an honour guard, don’t you think?” he asked her.
“I suppose,” she answered doubtfully, “although they do not look particularly friendly.”
Nathanial turned to see the officers approach, the one in the lead, a well-tanned and handsome man in his early thirties, wearing the red tunic of the Army. The blue-coated naval officer walked a few steps behind. The Army officer turned to Annabelle first and touched the rim of his cork pith helmet.
“Miss Annabelle Somerset?” he inquired.
“And by whom do I have the pleasure of being addressed?” she answered.
“Very sorry, Ma’am, manners grow rusty from lack of use out here. Witheringham, Major, Fourth Syrtis Major Foot, at your service.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Major Witheringham, and I am indeed whom you seek. This is my—ˮ
“Hello, Annabelle,” the second officer said, stepping into view, and Nathanial immediately recognised the voice as that of Lieutenant George Bedford of HMAS Sovereign.
“I…oh, George. Hello,” Annabelle said, and Nathanial could see the colour rise in her cheeks.
“Why, Lieutenant Bedford!” Nathanial exclaimed, hoping to draw his attention away from Annabelle’s obvious embarrassment at her current condition. “So good to see you again. How fares HMAS Sovereign?”
Nathanial expected a polite greeting in return. Instead Bedford turned cold eyes on him and nodded to Major Witheringham.
“That’s your man, Major. That’s Stone.”
Witheringham gestured to his soldiers and two trotted forward, their rifles carried at port arms and, Nathanial noticed for the first time, mounting shining bayonets. Corporal Tolni stood at rigid attention by the formation, his face twisted in distress at the scene unfolding before him.
“Nathanial Stone, I hereby place you under arrest for the deliberate sabotage and destruction of the heliograph station Peregrine, and for the attendant loss of property and life. Guards, take him away.”
The End.
Next:
Dark Side of Luna by J.T. Wilson
Acknowledgements
Had it not been for a considerable number of people other than myself, this book would never have been. First and foremost, kudos to Andy Frankham-Allen, the series editor. The entire series of Space: 1889 & Beyond books would never have happened without his vision and tireless effort. Andy came up with the idea, pitched it to Untreed Reads, and sold them on the concept before they approached me. Then, when one of our authors had a scheduling conflict and had to withdraw from the project, Andy asked me to fill in with a story set on Mars, and this book is the result.
Beyond that, my thanks to Jay Hartman, founder of and senior editor at Untreed Reads, for his enthusiastic support of the project as well as for simply making Untreed Reads a reality. Thanks also to K.D. Sullivan, CEO at Untreed Reads, my patient fellow explorer in the surprisingly uncharted realm of licensing contract verbiage—at least for this particular sort of license.
My heartfelt thanks go out to my select band of readers—unstinting in their encouragement and unflinching in their criticism, the two qualities essential in a reader: Bart Palamero, Arturo Lorioli, Jake Strangeway, and Beth Strangeway, secret love of my life. (Don’t show Jake that part.)
A special thanks to Craig Cutbirth and Bev Herzog who were my hosts during the marathon writing sessions it took to bring this story in on time. Great food, great conversation, great friends.
Last, but by no means least, thanks to all the loyal fans of Space: 1889, both those who have been with the world from the beginning and those who have discovered it along the way and taken it as their own. This one’s for you, folks.
*
Frank Chadwick is no stranger to the Victorian science fiction field. He is the creator of the Space: 1889 universe, with the first in a series of role-playing adventures, board games, and miniatures rules appearing over twenty years ago. He is known throughout the gaming industry as one of its most prolific designers, with over a hundred published games. He is also well-known in the history and military affairs field, with over two hundred books, articles, and columns. His 1991 Desert Shield Fact Book reached number one on the New York Times bestseller list, but he still lists steampunk as one of his first and greatest loves. He also, currently, has two novels on the cards with Baen Books, one of which is a Space: 1889 novel.
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