“Are you okay, Prof?”
Nathanial struggled to contain his emotions. “All ship shape and Bristol fashion,” he said, with a lightness of heart he just did not feel.
2.
FOLKARD HAD BROUGHT the Esmeralda 2 down some distance away from the scientific outpost. He thought it prudent; since events on Earth recently, Mercury was busier than ever, with joint British and Austrian science teams working together to mine the gravitar strata beneath the surface. It was still largely top secret, but Mercury was now a no-go zone for civilians. According to the report he had received before they had left Earth four weeks ago many governments were growing a little suspicious, but there was little way around it. It was presumed that gravitar would be discovered under the other worlds, too, but until that hypothesis was proven correct, they had to protect their secret. It was a conspiracy that Folkard had become a part of, for better or worse, as had his shipmates.
If he had his way he would have taken their flyer directly to Venus, as the Heart had told him, but Stone insisted they pick up Doctor Fontaine first. It had been quite a dilemma. As they passed by Luna he had felt the Heart’s presence, just as Doctor Grant had explained to him, only he had not been prepared for it. It was as if someone was tugging at his mind, bringing a force of weight on his head that was worse than any migraine he had had when a child. As Stone argued his point, Folkard had felt the need to direct the ship towards Venus and damn Stone! He had almost done so, too, tired of the unspoken resentment Stone continued to cast his way, but he had been ordered to enlist the help of Fontaine. Apparently such a geologist would be a benefit to their mission.
Folkard hoped it was so. He did not care for their presence on Mercury.
3.
ANNABELLE REGARDED NATHANIAL carefully. He stood before her, blocking the way out of their flyer. Now the door was open, and the Mercurian gravity, just one-half of Earth’s, was inside the ship she knew it would simply take a little pressure on her mechanical leg to propel herself at Nathanial. It was unlikely he would be able to stop the inertia of such propulsion. It was just as unlikely that he would escape such an encounter completely intact.
Could she do it? Annabelle suspected that yes she could. Ever since events on Peregrine she had been tested in ways she had never thought possible—the most horrible circumstances—and she had survived each test. It might even be true to say such tests had made her harder. She hoped not, but deep down she suspected the truth of such a statement. She did not, however, wish to harm her friend. He had stood by her through everything.
“Annabelle, the captain is correct. We should remain here; people know us at the station, we will risk the entire mission if we are seen.”
“Perhaps you will, but I will not. It is not I who is supposed to be dead.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. The reason behind Nathanial’s faked death was still too sore a point for her to exploit. She shook her head, hurt by the look of anger on Nathanial’s once gentle face. There was something in his pale eyes that scared her—an edge to them that had not existed before his brother’s death. “Nathanial, I beg your forgiveness, but I simply must go outside. I have to.”
“I do not see why. The last time we were here it was you who said you did not wish to return to this ‘wretched planet’ again. Your words, Annabelle, not mine. Why would you wish to step foot on Mercury again? You lost your…” Nathanial stopped and swallowed, nodding his head slowly. “I see. You hope the ghost of Colonel Shawbridge will visit you?”
That eventuality had not occurred to her, but now Nathanial had mentioned it… Perhaps Uncle Ernest would appear to her. Would that be such a bad thing? The ghost, the copy of him, had been so perfect. She had simply wanted to walk through the station, the place she had last seen him. It was silly perhaps, but just being in that station again…
“Nathanial, I have such happiness in my heart, and yet so much sadness. I am engaged to the most remarkable man, the first officer of the most advanced aether battleship ever. And what did I do for Valentine’s Day? I spent it trapped inside a box of wood and brass, out amongst the stars, with only a friend for company…”
“Was my company not good enough for you?”
“Of course it was. But…”
“Perhaps we can grow roses in the greenhouse if we are in the aether next year?” Nathanial offered her a smile, but it was hollow. Almost as if he had forgotten how to smile. “The final touch to a Valentine’s breakfast.”
“Oh, Nathanial, please do not jest so. I love travelling the aether with you… The adventures we have had in the last year! But by this time next year I wish to be Mrs George Bedford, not an engaged young woman out amongst the stars with only a friend for company.” Annabelle let out a sigh. “I have lost so much, Nathanial…”
Nathanial swallowed, his eyes glistening. “As have I,” he whispered.
She wanted to remind him that she lost so much more, but to do so would have been spiteful, and unfair. He had lost his brother, and cut himself off from his family. The latter action had been his decision. The losses she had endured had not been of her making.
It wasn’t just her parents she had lost. Even though Uncle Cyrus seemed to be of sound mind once more, he had been distant when she had visited him before leaving Earth. Focussing so much on the work ahead, working alongside Doctor Boltzmann and Lord Kelvin. Once again she had lost him to his work. And Uncle Ernest… he had been the last link she had to her father, his life-long and most trusted friend. Only he had died on Mercury seven months ago.
“Despite our new identities, we are not family,” Annabelle said, as gently as she could. “I need to go out there. Be a part of that place, even if it’s only for a short while. You must be able to understand that?”
Nathanial looked away from her, turning his bearded countenance to the dusklight of Mercury. He lowered his head. “Folkard will not be happy,” he said softly, then looked at her, that horrible edge in his eyes now sharper than ever, “and yet I feel my conscience will not be troubled by his mood.”
Annabelle did not like that. As she understood it Folkard had saved Nathanial’s life in London, his brother an unfortunate casualty of an assassination attempt. How could Nathanial hold the captain accountable? Annabelle feared she understood Nathanial less and less. He was so far removed from the man she had been reunited with on Luna almost a year ago.
“Before you go out, I need to make adjustments to your leg. It is set for Earth’s gravity, and just the slight misplaced footing could wound you.” Nathanial offered her a sad smile. “I cannot allow that.”
For all the pain on his face, there was something about the old Nathanial in that smile. Perhaps he would rediscover himself on this mission, Annabelle pondered hopefully.
4.
ARM IN ARM they walked towards Princess Christiana Station. It had been a good seven months since they had last visited Mercury, and Nathanial was surprised by the change in activity. It had been busy back then, but compared to now the station had once been a ghost town.
Nathanial cringed at the analogy.
People milled about purposely; scientists dressed in warm coats, while the red-uniformed British Army, equipped and prepared, patrolled with other men, dressed in a dark blue uniform unfamiliar to Nathanial.
“Soldiers of the Austrian Landwehr,” Annabelle whispered, “no doubt on loan from the joint Austro-Hungarian Army.”
“Working alongside our forces?” Nathanial was impressed. Not only by the fact that Emperor Josef was willing to allow his army to work alongside the British, but by the speed of their deployment. Everyone knew that the Austro-Hungarian Army was poorly trained in comparison to the British, so their presence here was little more than a token gesture. A reminder of the close ties between the Austrian and British government over Project “G”. He wondered how much was being kept from the Hungarian government, and how they would feel when it all came out. Which it would; it was merely a matter of time now.
Nathanial chuckled at the memory. “Ah yes, Miss McConnon. I suspect whoever took over from Colonel Shawbridge would not have appreciated his station painted pink. India this is not.” Annabelle looked up at him, smiling. He frowned. There was something in that smile, some meaning he could not decipher. Something akin to relief? He did not get a chance to question Annabelle on it, for his attention was pulled away by the welcoming call of a female voice with a slight Irish burr.
He looked over and saw the strong figure of a middle-aged woman approaching them. She wore a smile, which seemed at odds with her face, hardened through lack of smiling. She was the last person Nathanial had been expecting to see on Mercury.
“Professor…” she began, but Nathanial interrupted her abruptly.
“William Brooker,” he said with emphasis. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my sister, Miss Ann-Marie Brooker.”
Miss McConnon looked from Nathanial to Annabelle, confused. “What is this fopsy? I know very well who…”
Annabelle disengaged herself from Nathanial and began to gently lead Miss McConnon away. “Please, let us ladies talk in private away from the prying ears of our gallant defenders,” she said, nodding towards the nearest British-Austrian patrol. Nathanial was not entirely convinced Miss McConnon got the hint, for she continued to look at Nathanial as if he were mad. But Annabelle was not to be deterred.
“I shall be with Doctor Fontaine,” Nathanial said to the departing women. Miss McConnon opened her mouth to speak, but Annabelle waved him away, and turned back to the older woman.
Whatever she said did the trick, because Miss McConnon drew closer to Annabelle and the women started chatting fervently.
Nathanial smiled to himself. It was good to see a familiar face, and now it was time to see another. It had been a long time since he had heard from Arnaud, and they had a lot to talk about. With that in mind he continued on his way through the station toward the building that housed Arnaud’s laboratory.
5.
FOLKARD WAITED PAITENTLY while Lieutenant Horwell announced his presence. He had been surprised to find Colonel Davey’s aide sitting behind the secretary’s desk. He would have expected a colonel of Davey’s position to have a secretary, not task his military aide with such menial responsibilities. Perhaps Horwell had done something to incur Davey’s wrath, or maybe Davey simply was not happy with women working so close to him. There was nothing in his file to suggest such a character flaw, but Folkard had met enough old soldiers to expect such views on women.
Folkard grinned. Miss Annabelle would have a field day with the colonel.
He looked around the reception room. It was neat and functional, as to be expected for a building housing the administrator of a British scientific base—even if said base did look more like a small village. Albeit a small village in perpetual twilight—or dusklight as Miss Annabelle had insisted on calling it. A phrase she had heard when last on Mercury, by all accounts. Folkard himself had been on Mercury before, of course, some years ago when he had been a young lieutenant on HMAS Raleigh, but he had little chance to explore.
Although he had a mission to which he had to return, he was half tempted to explore for a short while. He felt certain that neither Miss Annabelle nor the professor would heed his advice and that they, too, would be in the station somewhere by now. Surely he could afford a few hours to explore? Miss Annabelle had explained something of their previous visit, of Hermes and the ghosts. Perhaps a walk to the World River was in order after he had delivered his orders to Colonel Davey?
He closed his eyes, imagining how it would feel to be reunited with dear Charlotte after eight years. She was never far from his thoughts, and never more so than in February. Eight years and nine days since her death. Since he had lost not only his darling wife, but also their…
“Captain Matheson, sir.”
Folkard opened his eyes slowly. He was not sure he would ever get used to being addressed by that name. This mission could not end soon enough for him; he had not been trained to be a spy, and working undercover did not suit him well.
He looked up at Lieutenant Horwell. The soldier was probably no more than 5’4”, stocky, with brown hair and shallow blue eyes, a smile never too far from his lips. There was something almost cherubic about his face. Folkard stood up, towering over the lieutenant. Horwell looked up, but did not seem to be put off by the height discrepancy between them. Good man, Folkard thought. Made of stronger stuff than you appear.
“The colonel is expecting you. This way, sir,” Horwell said and led the way to the corridor left of the reception desk. At the first door he knocked. They waited a moment before a gruff voice told them to enter. Horwell opened the door and introduced Folkard.
For a moment Colonel Phillip Davey looked at little confused, then he nodded sharply. “That will be all, Lieutenant. Unless Captain, ah, Matheson wishes some morning tea?”
Folkard looked at Horwell. The young lieutenant returned his look with daring. This was not an officer who planned on making tea for anyone. Folkard was tempted to ask for a drink anyway, even though he was not thirsty, but decided against it. He felt sure the lieutenant had better things to do. “No, thank you, my business here is most important.”
“Very well.” Davey dismissed Horwell, and, once the door was closed, he stood up from behind his desk and regarded Folkard carefully. “Forgive me, Captain, but when Horwell informed me of the arrival of a Captain Richard Matheson I was most perplexed. To turn up on Mercury unannounced is most irregular, especially now, but now that you’re here… What can I do for you, Captain Folkard?”
“Ah.” Folkard stepped forward and accepted the offered hand.
Davey smiled and stepped back. “Before you leave, might I trouble you for a tour of Sovereign? There’s few stationed out in the aether who have not heard of your vessel. And indeed it’s illustrious captain.” Davey indicated the seat on the opposite side of his desk. “Please be seated.”
Folkard sat. “Alas, it seems, being stationed on Mercury leaves you behind the news somewhat. I am no longer captain of Sovereign, I am, in point of fact, heading a very hush-hush mission for the Admiralty, hence the assumed identity.”
“I see.” Davey was silent for a moment. It was obvious that he wished to ask more, but he was an old officer and knew better than to enquire about the nature of secret orders. He would be told what he needed to know, and no more. “Very well, what can I do for you, Captain Matheson?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Personally nothing, I fear, except to release to my command your resident geologist. Doctor Fontaine’s presence is required for the success of my mission.”
“I see. Well, I highly doubt Doctor Fontaine would consider himself under the command of anyone, least of all men like us. However…” Davey leaned forward, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on the desk. “I’m afraid it is not only I who is behind the news.”
6.
“NORMALLY I WOULD be behind my usual desk, but poor James has got on the wrong side of the colonel this past week.” Iris sat back with a smile. “Between you and me, my dear, Colonel Davey has the temper of the Devil. I’ll be glad to return home at the end of this month.”
Annabelle looked around the mess hall. Breakfast was almost over, and the hall was slowly emptying of people. All strangers to her. “Why are you still here? I thought you would have left after… Well, you know.”
“Sure and I wanted to,” Iris said, “but I decided to stay on, make sure that Ern… Um, Colonel Shawbridge’s reputation is maintained. Such queer events took place here, and I feared your uncle would be maligned for them. Held responsible.”
Annabelle reached a hand out and gently squeezed Iris�
�. “I’m sure Uncle Ernest would have appreciated that.” She looked around, and lowered her voice. “Have you seen him at all these last seven months?”
“Once or twice.” For a moment Iris looked sad, then forced a smile. “But he seems to be at rest now. Certainly in the past month or so the ghosts have stopped appearing completely. You might have noticed the lack of familiar faces?”
“I did notice. I was hoping to maybe see Doctor Schell again… Maybe even Uncle Ernest.” Annabelle shook her head. “Where is everyone?”
“All replaced. I can’t say I completely understand what is going on, but other than the scientists, everyone on this station is now military trained. Military doctor, even a military chaplain.” Iris sighed. “I have only been allowed to remain as Colonel Davey’s secretary because I have a reputation for keeping secrets.”
For a few moments the two women sat in companionable silence, drinking tea. It was, according to Iris, a particular brand shipped in from India. Annabelle liked it; it was light, with a nice perfumed smell to it that reminded her of rain. Neither women knew each other that well, but Annabelle had seen a softer side to Iris after a few days on Mercury, and knew the woman missed Uncle Ernest more than Annabelle ever would. In another life she may well have become his second wife. For Annabelle, though, the real loss was found in his connection to her father.
“If I may ask, what has happened to you since you were last here? Your leg was not like that as I recall,” Iris said, an embarrassed flush in her cheeks.
“Oh, Iris,” Annabelle said, feeling the emotion well up inside her, “the most dreadful things seem to follow me. It feels like I am a curse to everyone who cares for me. My parents, Uncle Ernest…even Uncle Cyrus. And now dear Nathanial.”
“Now, dear, I am sure that is not so.” Iris reached into her cardigan and produced a handkerchief which she passed across to Annabelle. “I seem to recall that Professor Stone was quite taken with you.” She indicated the ring on Annabelle’s finger, and Annabelle dabbed her eyes. “Is he the lucky man?”
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