Amidst Dark Satanic Mills (Folkestone & Hand Interplanetary Steampunk Adventures Book 2)

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  Hand massaged his tender ears. “Well, he made an impression on me, I guess you’d say, but I can tell you it ain’t a good one.”

  “Again, I apologize, Sergeant,” Swift said. “But Jittle has never seen a Martian before and was quite overcome by the event.”

  “That so?” Hand said dubiously.

  “Are you of the civilized Lowland or the savage Highland?” Jittle asked. Though he formed the words very carefully, he spoke with a very thick accent. “Or a wanderer of the dead sea bottoms?”

  Sergeant Hand growled.

  “Ah, a Highlander,” the Mercurian murmured.

  “Jittle, man the launch,” Swift ordered.

  “Aye, Professor,” the Mercurian replied. He headed down the dock, stopping every other step and looking back with an expression akin to awe. “Wow!”

  “Jittle means no disrespect, Sergeant,” Swift said as they made for the waiting launch. “Quite the contrary in fact. Seeing a Martian is, for him, no less remarkable and astounding than you meeting up with a Nightghast.”

  “They’re just myths,” Hand protested.

  “Yes, but you’ve no doubt been told stories about them?”

  Hand nodded. He suppressed a shudder as he thought about the tales heard as a wee lad in his isolated village, whispered to him by his Gran, of those loathsome flesh-eating creatures of the Martian Highlands. They had been the cause of many restless nights over the years. Even now, he could not hear a moaning wind in some godforsaken corner of the Solar System without harkening back to the bloody stories told with such glee by his evil-minded Gran.

  “Well, it’s the same with Jittle and Martians, often heard of but never seen.” As they boarded the launch, Swift reached down and picked up the book Jittle had sent flying at their approach. He held it out to Hand. “See what I mean?”

  Hand looked down at the lurid cover of a copy of Canal Pirates of Mars, a half-year out of date, and smirked. He had tried reading some of the dime-novels set on Mars, but he had found them more silly than exciting, utter rubbish. They might appeal to someone who knew nothing about Mars, but he would stick with his novels set on Earth, Venus and Mercury. They were authentic.

  “Jittle is more devoted to those books than I will ever be, but the Mars tales fascinate him most,” Swift continued. “To see you as he did…well, it’s as if one of his heroes jumped out of a book.”

  The launch moved away from the stone dock, seeking the deep channel of the river.

  Folkestone clapped his friend’s shoulder and gestured with his chin. “It appears you have a devotee.”

  Hand followed Folkestone’s gesture. Every few seconds, Jittle looked out the porthole, as if to ensure the Martian was still there and not a figment of his imagination.

  Hand groaned.

  “Why was the observatory built so far away, Professor?” Folkestone asked. “I would have thought it much more convenient to have all departments of the research station together.”

  “Two reasons,” Swift replied. “From the beginning, it was apparent that the Twilight Belt Research Station would be the center of all commerce and colonization on Mercury, which would mean, of course, an excess of gaslight and smoke, both of which interfere with optical observation. Second, there is no natural promontory on which to construct an observatory. On Mercury, just as on every other planet, it is always desirable to establish your astronomical perch as high in the atmosphere as possible. Here, however, you also have the advantage of being able to train the telescopes sunward and also into the darkness of the Solar System.”

  “Because of the permanent orientation of the planet?”

  “Exactly, Captain,” Swift said. “As you know, Mercury is ever locked with one half always turned toward the Sun, just as Luna is with the Earth. Mercury’s rotation around its axis exactly equals its orbit around the Sun, probably because of the great tidal forces.”

  “One side burning hot, the other dark and frigid,” Folkestone mused. “And then we have the Twilight Belt.”

  “Yes, the Twilight Belt, or Zone as some people call it,” Swift said. “A stable temperate climate, a breathable atmosphere and the ability to sustain water in liquid form. The world river is three hundred miles wide, is dotted with islands, and encircles the entire planet. All life, both flora and fauna, developed in or along the river and has adapted to its existence. Were anything to interfere with that existence, it would affect the warp and weave of all life here, the reason the Empire keeps the other powers of Earth on a very short leash. We are not just explorers and rulers on Mercury, Captain, but caretakers and guardians.”

  An odd opinion for an American, considering your own history, Folkestone mused, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Hand looked up. “So, if something were different, say Mercury had a rotation that exposed its entire surface to light and dark over a period of time, there would be no life?”

  “A Mercury such as you describe would not be habitable for us, the likes of Jittle, or any of the other life forms found in the Twilight Belt, but I think life would find a way to manifest itself,” Swift replied. “Life is as persistent as it is tenacious, and all it needs is the barest of footholds. We know, for example, that on Nightside there must be life of some kind.”

  “Frost worms and ice trolls,” Hand said confidently.

  Swift laughed gently. “More fiction than fact, I’m afraid.”

  Hand looked crestfallen.

  “But that’s not to say there may not be some nugget of truth in the stories you read,” Swift quickly added. “The miners who work in the eternal darkness bring back stories that are no less strange than what you’ve read, and some of the scientific expeditions sent out from Nix have reported seeing lights and flares in the darkness.” He shrugged. “Who is to say?”

  “And on the Brightside?” Hand asked hopefully.

  “Doubtful, but not impossible, though no one really knows,” the astronomer answered. “I’ve always thought that if there is life there among the fire and magma it is totally unlike anything we have ever known, perhaps a kind of intelligent energy, lacking any real physical form.”

  Hand shook his head slowly.

  “Just be glad we live in a universe where Mercury’s year and day are both equal to eighty-eight days.” Swift smiled. “Otherwise we would not be here.” He gestured to both sides of the river, to the city visible in the dusk and the far bank lost to sight. “And neither would any of this.”

  “Professor Swift,” Folkestone said, now that they were alone upon the immensity of the river. “Have you been told anything of why we have come to see you?”

  “I was not told the reason in the message received, but I can guess it has something to do with my intra-Mercurian planet,” Swift said. “Were it anything else, you could have asked just about any other stargazer and have been saved a trip to Mercury.”

  “Yes, it’s about Hephaestus.”

  “Indeed that’s why I…”

  “Now here’s something I’ve wanted to ask since the Admiral told us about it,” Hand interrupted. “I’m not the sharpest blade in the drawer, but I know that Hephaestus is a Greek god and that all the planets are named after Roman gods. That being the case, if there is a planet between the Sun and Mercury, instead of calling it Hephaestus, shouldn’t you call it…”

  “Yes, I know,” Swift sighed. “First of all, Sergeant, there is a planet orbiting between Mercury and the Sun. I have proof of it and I have plotted its orbit; at any particular moment, I know its exact coordinates. I could navigate an aethership to it easier than I could train the observatory’s solar-scope on it. Some say it is a phantom, but I know it is not.”

  “Then why not present the proof, Professor?” Folkestone asked. “I am sure the scientific establishment, not to mention various trade concerns, would welcome the addition of another charted world in the Solar System.”

  “My reluctance to settle the issue once and for all goes directly to your question, Sergeant,” Swift answe
red. “I want to name the planet, just as I have named all the comets I’ve discovered over the years. The problem, however, is that while naming comets is left to the discoverer, with certain prohibitions against frivolity and ribaldry, the name of something as important as a planet is the sole province of the BAS—the British Astronomical Society. And, as the Sergeant pointed out, all planets are named for Roman gods.”

  Folkestone and Hand glanced at each other, shrugged slightly, then looked back at the astronomer.

  “Personally, I think Vulcan is a rubbish name for a planet,” he explained. “Sounds idiotic. Hephaestus is the Greek form of Vulcan and I believe is much more poetic, more classical, more a name for the ages. As its discoverer, I feel my preference should be given precedence over a tradition that is purely arbitrary.”

  Folkestone stroked his chin. “Does that explain why you have chosen to work in British-financed observatories the past several years rather than American ones?”

  Swift chuckled. “You’ve found me out, Captain. I first saw the disc of Hephaestus transiting the Sun when I was in New York and started my calculations then. I almost made an announcement at the time, but when I realized what the scientific community would call my planet, I held back, praying none others would make the same discovery as had I. As I’ve worked in British observatories, I have used the time to refine my orbital calculations, but I also established a reputation and cultivated allies. Six more months, that’s all I need before I can go to the BAS with confidence.” His eyes suddenly widened and he looked as if he had swallowed a gnat. “Gentlemen, I certainly hope your mission here will not force my hand before I am ready…I have no desire to go down in history with the rum name ‘Vulcan’ attached to me.”

  “We have higher concerns than naming a planet,” Folkestone said. “The Empire is facing a crisis. We have reason to believe Hephaestus is involved. I have no desire to upset your plans, but the security of the Empire must be placed ahead of any personal concerns. The existence of Hephaestus might be revealed.”

  A rush of air blew out Swift’s mouth, a combination of a sigh and a moan. His body sagged.

  “I must put the welfare of the whole ahead of myself,” Swift said after a moment. “If my time among you Brits has taught me anything, it is the necessity of the Empire. Many of my countrymen revile me, not just for ignoring the national effort, but siding with Britain. They also decry the Empire’s policing of the Solar System. However, I’ve come to believe, if there’s anything worse than the British Empire being the Solar System’s constable, it is the British Empire not being the Solar System’s constable.”

  “Perhaps we can help each other, Professor,” Folkestone said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need information about Hephaestus…”

  “Vulcan,” Hand interjected.

  “…and you want the Astronomical Society receptive to your preference in naming,” Folkestone continued, scowling at the snarky Martian. “The Admiralty on Mars has considerable influence within the scientific community—most of the Empire’s scientists, be they astronomers, physicists or naturalists, are dependent upon the Royal Navy, both for aetherships and good will, in transporting and protecting expeditions around the Solar System.”

  “So if I assist your investigation of this matter, whatever it is,” Swift said, “you’ll help with Hephaestus.”

  “Vulcan,” Hand murmured softly, earning a booted kick.

  The astronomer sighed. “I really have no choice but to help, but I appreciate your consideration, Captain.”

  “Understand that I cannot guarantee…”

  “I understand fully.”

  “But I would do my level best.”

  “Well there you are,” Swift sighed. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. It would help though if I knew what you really want to know about Hephaestus.” He paused. “And why?”

  Folkestone and Hand exchanged a quick glance. With two other men, there would have been a need for an exchange of words, arguments and debates, but not between this human and Martian, who had saved each other’s life more times than either could count, not that either man kept a ledger. They served together not by command but by choice. Though separated by rank, they were fast friends and closer than brothers. In their glance, volumes were spoken, and a decision was made.

  “Very well, Professor,” Folkestone said. “But all we are going to tell you is confidential.”

  Swift nodded soberly.

  “Of course,” Hand added, “you may come to regret it.”

  The astronomer frowned in confusion.

  “There is a possibility we may have to go to Hephaestus,” the Captain explained. “If so, you’ll be our navigator.”

  Swift’s mouth opened but words failed him.

  Hand’s eyebrows raised just a fraction at the suggestion they might venture closer to the Sun than any known expedition, but he made no protest, gave no sign of dismay. They had been sent to Mercury for no other reason than to gather information about an obscure aspect of the investigation, an ‘easy’ mission after their recent mishap, but he knew from experience that the Captain never went half-measures on anything. Where they went, angels were too wise to tread, and demons quailed. In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides, Hand thought, if you did not thumb your nose at death from time to time, life became so excruciatingly dull.

  “Now listen carefully,” Folkestone began.

  Folkestone and Hand shared everything about the investigation into MEDUSA. From the discovery of Professor Poulpe’s body in a minor Martian canal to the destruction of the mysterious Pandora energy station in the Asteroid Belt to recent developments on Earth involving their friend Slaughter, they omitted nothing. At the mention of Section 6, worry flitted across Swift’s face, for the intelligence service’s reputation was widespread, and dark. When the two men finished, the astronomer leaned his head back slightly, staring at the diffused gloom above them as much as he stared at a contemplative nothingness.

  “Sometimes I think myself foolish, ignoring the ebb and flow of life,” Swift mused. “I devote my enterprise toward something that has existed millions of years, which will exist millions more. I convince myself it is infinitely more important than events which shape our lives and determine our fates. Foolish.”

  “Aw, don’t be too hard on yourself, Professor,” Hand urged.

  “I am quite sure that in a hundred years or so, people will forget entirely anything Sergeant Hand and I might do,” Folkestone said. “People will always remember you.”

  “As the discoverer of a planet no one will visit? Hephaestus?”

  “Vulcan,” Hand whispered under his breath.

  “No, because people remember dreamers,” Folkestone said. “They always have and always will…the writers, the artists, the scientists who shape the future. When people wonder how the world in which they live came about, they will ever think of the dreamers, not a couple of soldiers like Hand and myself.”

  “Yeah,” Hand agreed. “Old soldiers just fade away.”

  A wan smile curved Swift’s mouth and his eyes gleamed bright in the twilight. “I don’t know that I agree with you, Captain, but I do appreciate the encouragement.” He chuckled. “Well, even if no one ever thinks of me again, and Hephaestus is christened Vulcan, or even if someone else gets credit, there are still all those comets I’ve named…and I got a few gold and silver medals for my efforts. If nothing else, they’ll be worth a few bob.”

  All through the journey, Jittle had never stopped glancing out the bridge observation port at Sergeant Hand, as if fearful the Martian might at any moment vanish into the mist like a mirage. Suddenly the little fellow let out a sharp cry.

  “Ah, we are near Twilight Island,” Swift said. “Seen for the first time, it is quite a sight, but one best seen from the prow of the launch. This way, gentlemen.”

  They went to the bow as the launch began to slow. On either side, they saw the dim forms of islands in the stream, low dar
k shapes that seemed like dozing primordial beasts. Folkestone and Hand, staring ahead, saw nothing but a shifting haze.

  “As I mentioned back in town, they wanted the observatory site quite a bit more elevated than the surrounding land, enough to get above the dusk-mist, as they call it here,” Swift said. “Ideally, you’d like to find a spot smack in the middle of the temperate zone so you could train the appropriate scopes either sunward or toward the darkness, but everyone knew they would probably have to settle for some rise on one side of the river or the other, biased toward Brightside or Nightside. And then they found Twilight Island.”

  As Swift spoke, the mists seemed to part. A vast shape took form in the middle of the river. The island, however, was like none other seen during the uneventful journey from Twilight Station. The center of the island rose into the fire-tinged mist above the river, and kept on going, soaring into the sky-glare beyond the small planet’s perpetual dusk. Shielding their eyes, they stared up the sheer slope to the shining golden dome blazing at the summit, like a phantasm from a Venusian dream-spice vision.

  “This island is unique among all the islands in the great world river,” Swift said. Even though this was hardly his first glimpse of the marriage of natural wonder and engineering genius, his voice was still tight with awe. “No one has been able to explain its existence, but I tend to think it is an artificial creation.”

  “What? You mean…” Hand cast a quick glance toward Jittle, who had torn his gaze from the wondrous Martian long enough to guide the launch into the docking and freight area now visible upon the shore.

  “Hardly,” Swift replied, but his tone was bland, lacking either scorn or derision. “Who created the canals on Mars?”

  “Nobody quite knows, do they?” Hand admitted. “Built a long time ago, they were, but not by any modern Martian race, or even the Great Sea Kings for that matter.”

  “How about the Osirion in Abydos or the Sphinx Temple in Giza?” Swift asked Folkestone.

  “We used to think the Old Kingdom Egyptians did, but we know better now,” he replied. “Like the Sphinx itself, both of the structures are at least ten thousand years old. The answer to your question, then, is we don’t know.” He looked to the summit of the island, now rising above them like a finger of doom. “But, Professor Swift, on Mars and Earth you’re talking about engineering, here…” He gestured upward, at a loss for words.