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

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  Hand consoled himself with the thought that whatever duress or threats endured by Harkness, they surely could not compare with what Lady Cynthia had put him through. In short order, the three men were again in the launch steaming quickly back to Twilight Station, but this time accompanied by a passel of Jittle’s friends, all Mercurians, all simple fisher folk enamored of the mythical Martian Highlander manifested in their midst.

  Sergeant Felix Hand groaned, and reached into his pocket.

  Chapter 12

  Tanaka’s hand froze as he reached inside his jacket, mouth open in astonishment. He toppled face-first to the flagstone floor of Baron Bellaseus’ study.

  At Tanaka’s entrance, the Baron had half-risen from behind his desk. He was in the same position when he looked up and saw Zimmer in the doorway, blood gushing a head wound, the front of his tunic dark with his own life essence. Only then did the Baron realize he had heard the sharp report of Zimmer’s gun. He gripped the desk’s edge with bloodless hands to keep them from shaking.

  Baron Bellaseus had had a life-long association with Death, but he found it upsetting when Death came calling for him.

  Zimmer’s blood-slick weapon clattered against the stone. The man seemed on the verge of collapse, but he held fast to the doorjamb, refusing to fall. The Baron’s reptilian retainers swarmed into the room, hissing like a colony of vipers disturbed in their lair. They grasped Zimmer with gleaming talons, raking his flesh, trying to sink their fangs into his throat.

  “Stop!” the Baron shouted, his booming voice freezing the Nagas. “Take that man to the infirmary immediately. See that his wounds are attended to.”

  Four Nagas bore Zimmer into the care of the doctor on the other side of the castle. The others milled about, waiting for orders, fearing what the Baron might do if he found them derelict in their duties. Dread mixed with arousal as they sniffed the blood-scent rising from the corpse on the floor.

  “Pick it up,” the Baron ordered, coming from behind his desk. With steady hands he contemptuously grabbed Tanaka’s needle-gun. “Take the body away; dispose of it as you will.”

  He waited until all the Nagas were out and the heavy door was closed before he fell back in his chair. He breathed a ragged sigh, dropping the needle-gun to the desk. His hands shook again. He cursed his weakness, then his carelessness.

  After a very long moment, he stood, dropped the needle-gun in his own coat pocket, and poured himself a drink. He swallowed it in one gulp, then sipped at a second. A quick look in the mirror to ensure he appeared composed, then he headed for the infirmary.

  The doctor was surprised when the filthy Nagas brought in a human, but he knew it was no good trying to get a coherent account from the beasts. He roughly shooed them off and set to work. He had questions, but they could wait. It was unfortunate this fellow was so severely injured, but the doctor relished the opportunity to be a physician rather than a veterinarian. He finished suturing the last of the man’s wounds when the Baron entered.

  “The patient will live, Baron,” the doctor announced, bowing deeply. “The wounds were severe, but…”

  “He is not conscious,” the Baron snapped.

  “As I mentioned, the wounds…”

  “Rouse him,” Bellaseus ordered. “Now.”

  It was dangerous to end the man’s healing coma. The drugs that could propel him back to consciousness could easily kill him. But disobeying the Baron was equally dangerous, for the doctor.

  “What are you waiting for, Doctor?” Bellaseus demanded.

  “A moment to prepare the injection, Baron, that is all,” the doctor murmured. “The portions must be precisely measured else he might die.” He paused. “He might die anyway.”

  Under the Baron’s baleful glare, the medico measured various substances into a glass tube. When all was ready, he siphoned the mixture into a hypodermic needle. He swabbed an area on the man’s neck with alcohol, uttered a silent prayer, and plunged the thin metal rod into the carotid artery. The doctor began to perspire when the man did not immediately respond to the injection.

  “Baron, his injuries are…”

  “Rouse him to consciousness.”

  “Yes, of course, Baron, but extreme measures might…” His voice trailed to silence. “There is another way.”

  He crossed the tiled floor, unlocked a glass-fronted cabinet, and removed a smoky brown vial and a large hypodermic needle. He filled the cylinder with the contents of the vial, pushed aside the scraps of the man’s shirt, and thrust the needle directly into the heart. No use sterilizing the skin. If he did not immediately die, infection would be the least of his worries.

  Seconds seemed like hours as the doctor watched his patient for some reaction to the powerful stimulant. Hope ebbed and he started to turn toward Baron Bellaseus.

  Abruptly Zimmer jackknifed into a sitting position, his eyes wide and bulging. A strident scream erupted from the depths of his throat. His muscles bunched and corded like steel cables drawn to the snapping point. His face, chest and arms became mottled as blood vessels burst beneath his skin. Blood dripped from his nose and leaked out the corners of his eyes. As quickly as he had jerked into a sitting position on the examination table, he fell back, his body sounding as if it were a slab of beef slammed onto a butcher’s block. His back arched and his limbs spasmed as if a strong galvanic shock were passing through him. His head flopped to one side and he grew still.

  Even Baron Bellaseus, who had seen many terrible things, and had done worse, was shocked by Zimmer’s violent reaction to the doctor’s stimulating elixir. However, the extreme measure seemed, ultimately, a waste of time, for the operative was dead, of no further use. The Baron was irritated by Zimmer’s death, but infuriated by the doctor’s incompetence. He glared at the medico.

  “No, it may yet…please, Baron…” The doctor grabbed his stethoscope and placed the disc against Zimmer’s chest. “There is a heartbeat, Baron, very faint, but it is there.”

  The Baron pushed the relieved medical man aside. “Zimmer!”

  The man on the table groaned.

  “Zimmer!”

  The German’s eyes fluttered open. “Baron…” His voice was tremulous, little more than a breath.

  “Zimmer, tell me what happened.”

  “Tanaka?”

  “Dead,” the Baron explained. “You killed him before he could assassinate me.”

  Zimmer nodded with the barest of movements. “He said we had been ordered to report to you here.”

  “I gave no such order.”

  “As I discovered, sir,” Zimmer said. “Baron, I feel…”

  “Never mind about that, Zimmer,” Bellaseus urged. “Tell me the rest of it. Quickly!”

  “I discovered his treachery as we entered your valley, when I was trying to verify clearance,” Zimmer continued. “He attacked me, thought he had killed me, left me for dead on our ship. I found a weapon and…and…Baron, I feel very cold…”

  “Continue with your report, Zimmer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zimmer said weakly. “I found him, saw him, killed him. I did kill him, sir, did I not?”

  “Yes, you did well, Zimmer.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Why did he do it?” Bellaseus asked. “Under whose orders?”

  “I think…”

  “Yes? Tell me. Quickly.”

  “Lord…” The man’s breath gurgled upward. “…Khallimar.”

  “Zimmer!”

  The German operative was silent.

  “Zimmer!” He slapped the man.

  “It is too late, Baron,” the doctor said hesitantly. “With time and rest he could have…” The doctor paused. “The strain was too much on his heart. He is gone.”

  The Baron nodded. He stared at the ravaged husk. Zimmer had fought death to save him, and had resisted the grasp of death long enough to tell him what he needed to know. The loyal fool!

  “Dispose of the corpse, Doctor,” Bellaseus said. He turned and started out of the room
. “Turn it over to the Nagas.”

  “Yes, Baron,” the doctor said with a polite bow, glad his lord and master could not see the expression on his face.

  The Baron returned to his office, barely keeping his rage under control. How dare Khallimar send this man to assassinate him! It was clear to Bellaseus that Khallimar had finally put aside the mask behind which he always operated, that the old, ever-uneasy, ever-tenuous truce between them, one sustained only by a common vision of the future, was finally at an end. The Gordian knot of their relationship had been severed by a single blow. The sword-hand was Khallimar’s.

  They had always been rivals, even at university when founding what would eventually become MEDUSA. They had envisioned an ordered, peaceful future, all nationalities dissolved, all planets and moons united under a single banner, but there had always been differences between the two men, primarily about whose hand was going to wear the iron glove. But they had always subjugated those rivalries by focusing on their common goal.

  This final, irreparable schism was on Lord Khallimar’s head, as would fall the Baron’s vengeance for his intemperate action. What bothered the Baron was not the why of this attempt to change to the power structure of MEDUSA, but why now?

  In the privacy of his office and using the security guaranteed by aether-wave communication, Baron Bellaseus contacted operatives on many worlds, all people who were devoutly loyal to him. He was surprised when he discovered many of his most strategically placed agents had been moved to comparatively inconsequential posts within the organization, or were not found at all.

  More importantly, his elite corps of assassins, which had ever been the enforcement arm of MEDUSA, and his will, had all but vanished. Those who remained were questionable, if not in their dedication to MEDUSA then in their personal loyalty to him.

  Only Eck remained, but she had several strikes against her. He now wondered if her failures in Paris could be ascribed to the chaotic situation, as she claimed. What about London? Letting the documents fall into the grasp of Section 6 was unfortunate, but not exacting revenge was unforgivable. Had her allegiance switched to Khallimar? Given their bond, it was a possibility he considered only with the greatest reluctance. If Eck had turned against him, then Khallimar the fool might actually gain the upper hand.

  His greatest advantage at the moment was Khallimar probably thought him dead. Even when Tanaka did not report the outcome of his assignment, Khallimar’s overconfidence would kick in. It was a fault of which Bellaseus had often taken advantage during their long association, beginning in University when the two young men first laid plans to rein in humanity.

  Well, Bellaseus thought ruefully. It appears a worm can turn, just as a dog can have his day.

  After several hours, the Baron knew his current status within the organization, discovered through blinds, intermediaries and the masks worn as the spymaster of MEDUSA. Very few of his sources knew with whom they were dealing.

  He began to understand the Khallimar’s coup, and the rationale for its timing. Bellaseus considered the loss of Pandora a definite set-back for MEDUSA, but Khallimar took no steps to replace it. A spy within Khallimar’s household reported a hurried flight to the prime energy facility. There could only be one reason.

  Like a spider at the center of his web, Bellaseus listened to the information flowing along the strands, the whispers from his many spies. He analyzed and speculated. When the information could take him no farther he contacted Eck and directed her toward a pick-up point in the English countryside.

  Perhaps she had turned against him, perhaps not. Either way, he would need her skills, and he was sure of his ability to control her.

  The benighted people of Bellaseus’ valley watched a massive craft rise from the midst of their Master’s castle. Most fell to the ground in fear, but there were a few, as there always were, who hid and watched, filled more with wonder, and rage, than terror.

  Eck was ready when the aethership dropped from the gray sky, leaping through the opening. Barely had she cleared the portal when it closed and the craft leaped into the aether. She made her way to the control center, passing Nagas who stood motionless guard.

  “The assignment did not go well,” Bellaseus observed.

  “They were waiting for me.”

  “Yes, such things do happen,” the Baron said. “Any quarry will become more dangerous when it is aware of the hunter.”

  “Or I might have been betrayed,” Eck suggested, moving to stand at his side.

  “It is possible,” he agreed. “There are always enemies within.”

  Eck watched for the slightest indication he might be behind her failures, or that he had come to kill her. As always, his features told her nothing, as hers were blank to him. He sat in the command chair, facing forward, even though she knew he was observing her as closely as she was him. The few human crew members attended to their duties, ignoring the conversation, just as they ignored the Nagas who devoutly guarded the godhood of their master.

  “Does it hurt?” the Baron asked.

  She raised the brass and steel arm that had been fitted by an artificer after the doctor saved her from death. There had been no time to make any cosmetic adjustments, to hide the struts and joints, the gears and the tiny engines. Before she again went on an assignment, she would take steps to conceal the prosthetic arm, for an assassin who attracted attention was hardly an asset. But the time for such niceties would have to come later.

  “No, not much,” she lied.

  “We are going to where Khallimar is,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise but made no comment.

  “I might have need of your skills,” he added.

  “I live to serve,” she replied.

  “But whom do you serve?” he asked. “That is the question, is it not? A question we must also demand of ourselves.”

  She tilted her head slightly, mildly surprised. “That is indeed the question,” she agreed. “It is a question we must ask others, but I think it a question we need not ask ourselves.”

  “All who join MEDUSA must take an oath,” Bellaseus pointed out. “I wrote that oath long ago, as a young man who wanted to impose order upon chaos. I executed that oath to all, and I have executed those who violated the oath.” He paused. “I administered the oath to all but one. Blood triumphs over mere words.”

  Eck waited patiently, just as she would await the presence of a target in her crosshairs. She knew the Baron wanted to tell her something, but she also knew he had to come to it in his own way. She could not rush him. She stood motionless, silent despite the pain gnawing at her phantom flesh.

  “Where is your loyalty, Eck?”

  The directness of the question startled her, but she hid her surprise. In all the years she had known Baron Bellaseus, he rarely asked a direct question. It was not in his nature. That he asked one now betrayed the importance of question, the consequences.

  “I am loyal to MEDUSA,” she replied.

  “And by MEDUSA…”

  “You are MEDUSA,” she said. “The executive power of the organization may be invested in another, but you are the heart and soul of MEDUSA. I live or die for the goals of MEDUSA…I live or die for you. I serve none other…and never have.”

  After a moment the Baron sighed, then nodded. He gestured to the chair beside him, which on a standard aethership would have been for the First Officer. Suddenly nervous, but hiding it with an assassin’s icy calm, she sat down.

  “There is much to tell you, much you must understand.”

  With an economy of words, Baron Bellaseus informed Eck of the sudden power changes within MEDUSA and suspected reasons behind them. He told her of the assassination attempt by Lord Khallimar. She understood his behavior, and sighed inwardly. He told her what he had learned about the investigations of Section 6. He told her of Pandora Station’s loss and the two troubleshooters on Mercury, sent by the Admiralty. He did not fully explain the significance of all events because even when pushe
d into a corner it was not in the Baron’s nature to share secrets.

  However, because the precipitous tip of power within the MEDUSA organization had left him with few resources upon which he could call, he revealed more than he wanted, but never more than he needed. When he finished, he leaned back in the control chair and watched her carefully.

  “What you have told me is very disturbing,” she admitted. “I know your feelings, for they mirror something of what I felt in the wake of my failures. I blamed you for them, for forcing me to act contrary to my nature. It even crossed my mind that perhaps you or one of your agents were responsible for the crippling documents put into the possession of Section 6.”

  He nodded.

  “But I was wrong,” she continued. “It was not you, but another, our common enemy…the enemy of MEDUSA. The results of all the apparent missteps and the stolen documents have worked in favor of the Special Executive…and only him.”

  Bellaseus stroked his chin. Without Poulpe’s defection, without the destruction of Pandora, without the documents falling so easily into the grasp of Section 6, Khallimar would never have been able to move his own agenda ahead so precipitously. It was a level of subterfuge he had never expected in the visionary, but one could not argue with facts.

  “He must be stopped,” Eck said. “The new weapon will bring order to the worlds of the Solar System, but it must not be his hand that holds the whip. It must be yours. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure you prevail. You can count on me completely.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, smiling faintly. “Go get some rest. You will need it.”

  Baron Bellaseus watched his daughter leave the bridge, still full of doubts.

  Chapter 13

  “The only way to approach Hephaestus is by mathematical calculation,” Professor Swift said, gesturing toward the blackened ports of the aethership. “And it’s even more difficult to discover it by exploration than by observation, a reason most astronomers still consider it a chimera. In each case, the problem is the Sun.”