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

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  “And Baron Bellaseus is that lord?” Folkestone asked.

  “We thought so after examining the MEDUSA papers,” she said. “After questioning Marie Poulpe, we captured operatives in a series of raids. Interrogation of the prisoners led us to believe that a high-raking officer of MEDUSA controlled that valley. We were unable to infiltrate the valley, so we set up a covert observation post to watch comings and goings. While I had no absolute proof that the aethership I followed was the same one reported leaving the valley, I have no doubt now that it was.”

  Hand shook his head in disbelief. “No steamers, no gaslight, no nothing—hard to believe there’s any place like that, especially on Earth. Even the smallest one-horse dorp of the Martian Highlands knows what a steamer is, even if they don’t all have gaslight.”

  “Very few places on Earth escaped the Alexandrian Dispersion, and even fewer were not touched by the Industrial Illumination,” Folkestone said. “For a valley to be like that now, there has to be a conscious effort to keep it that way.”

  “Before the MEDUSA angle arose, the nature of life in that valley was ascribed to an eccentricity,” Lady Cynthia added. “The world is full of eccentric people, both those who choose their own eccentricities, and those wealthy enough to force their eccentricities on others. As far as Section 6 was concerned, it was in another land, no source of danger to the Empire, and none of our business.”

  “I wouldn’t like living there,” Hand muttered. “Not at all.”

  “When people do not have a choice, they learn to live without a choice,” Folkestone said.

  “Live free,” Hand murmured. “Or die.”

  “It did not affect the Empire,” Lady Cynthia repeated. “It was none of our business.”

  “Perhaps it should have been,” Hand said.

  Lady Cynthia started to speak, but remained silent. She sighed. As was usually the case, there was no arguing with a Martian.

  “Well, it is now,” Folkestone interjected. “If that is Bellaseus’ stronghold, that is where he will go to lick his wounds.”

  “And, hopefully, Khallimar too,” Hand added.

  “Lady Cynthia, if you please, enter the coordinates of the valley into the navigational calculator,” Folkestone said. “I think it would be best if we came down as near to that castle as possible.”

  “Surely we should call for a concentrated attack,” she said.

  “And if Bellaseus is not there after all?”

  “Yes, then he will be alerted,” she realized. “He would then avoid any hiding place that could be traced to any holdings.”

  “Better that we reconnoiter, gather information, and only as a last resort call in an attack,” Folkestone said. “However, we will need to alert the Admiralty, both in London and Syrtis Major, as well as your friends in Section 6.”

  “Given MEDUSA’s involvement,” Lady Cynthia said, “Section 6 will insist upon command and control of any operation.”

  “That is something they would have to work out with your father, isn’t it?” Folkestone suggested with a wry smile.

  “Oh Lord,” Lady Cynthia sighed.

  * * *

  In the dusk, the inhabitants around Castle Bellaseus witnessed a second light drop from the purple welkin. Unlike the first, this one evoked fright and caused people to drop into the dust and pray.

  Less than an hour earlier they had seen the return of their Lord, but they thought nothing of it, for he and his attendant demons often went upon mysterious errands in his aerial chariot. The other chariot had not come quietly, dropping from sky to castle, but had rather swept in from the west, passing low over the villages amid cries of panic and alarm. The Lord’s chariot they knew but from a distance, as one sees a passing comet in the crystal firmament. The second was a dreadful artifice, a mechanical terror.

  While some groveled and his their faces, others looked up and wondered what changes this augury might portend.

  Unknown to the citizenry of the isolated valley, two great wills contended within the ancient walls of Castle Bellaseus. The people, like sheep, gazed upward, but they saw only spectral lights in the windows of the castle, unnatural lights which did not flicker like their rough tapers and torches of pitch.

  Usually they averted their eyes from the castle, for one never knew when the Lord might look back with his dark sorceries, but this evening nearly every eye peered upward. Portents alerted them to the winds of change stirring in a valley where nothing ever changed. And, looking up, they saw a third light descend from the outer blackness, but this one quietly and covertly, and not directly into the walls of Castle Bellaseus.

  * * *

  “We have to put our differences aside,” Lord Khallimar said. “If we are to have any hope of bringing MEDUSA back, we must put the past behind us, forget the mistakes you have made.”

  Baron Bellaseus bit back words he wanted to spew at the man who had once been his best friend. During the long and ignominious flight from Hephaestus, companioned with his own bitter thoughts, he realized that Khallimar’s death meant the death of MEDUSA. It had not been his own skills at organization or his ability to ferret secrets which allowed MEDUSA to rise unsuspected by the powers of the Solar System, but Khallimar’s vision, the man’s skill in warping the wills of men to that vision.

  Bellaseus gained minds through fear, but Khallimar won souls with words alone, how he himself had first been won over. Even with the remnants of his spy network and the energy equations, he knew he could not recreate MEDUSA. At best it would be banditry, gathering treasure through extortion, exacting revenge through the application of terror. He alone could never bring about the change they had envisioned for the peoples of the Solar System. He would merely replace one form of chaos with another.

  Then he discovered Khallimar still lived.

  “Yes, we have had a falling out,” Bellaseus said. “It happens even amongst the best of friends. Misunderstandings? Yes, on the parts of both of us. But, as you say, we must go forward from here, and that is something we must do together. Our vision…your vision must be brought to fruition.”

  Khallimar smiled. Bellaseus had always had a knack for saying the right thing at the right time, and for making things happen. Even as a young student at university, venturing beyond the rainforests of his homeland for the first time, Khallimar had recognized the young Baron’s ability to make things happen. While Khallimar had vision, he did not possess the skills to manifest that vision in a concrete way. Khallimar could make the hearts of men burn, but Bellaseus could make the men work. Like it or not, they were opposite sides of the same coin.

  “The peoples of the Solar System must be brought together and naught but the hand of MEDUSA can shape them,” Khallimar said. “They must be lifted from chaos and given purpose. Only then can we reach for the stars and grasp those far worlds.”

  “MEDUSA will rise again,” Bellaseus said, lifting his glass.

  Khallimar raised his own glass, then sipped the wine.

  “We must establish a new base of operations,” Khallimar said. “Unfortunately, all my industrial holdings now seem to be known to British Intelligence, nor can I chance using the resources of any of my puppets, no matter how carefully I masked my interest. At least I still have tangible assets which I can put to good use.” He paused and frowned. “I would very much like to know who was the traitor amongst us.”

  “Traitor?” Bellaseus returned the man’s frown. “I thought…”

  “You thought a single British operative could amass so much information about me and MEDUSA without help from within?” Khallimar asked. “Or, you thought it might have been me?”

  “I thought Poulpe might have revealed more to his daughter than we believed,” Bellaseus replied. “It also occurred to me there might have been indiscretions within the organization that might be utilized by a Section 6 operative, or a persistent Sûreté detective.” He swirled his wine contemplatively. “And, yes, it occurred to me, briefly, that you might have been the source o
f the information used against us.” Then he added quickly: “But, of course, that makes no more sense than that I would do it.”

  “No, it does not,” Khallimar agreed. “We have changed much since our youth, since the good old days, but neither of us have become such a man as who would put a razor to his own throat.”

  “We shall try to find the traitor as we regroup and rebuild, but it is likely the traitor either perished in the raids or in the destruction of the station,” Bellaseus said.

  “Or is enthrall to and ensconced with Section 6,” Khallimar pointed out.

  “Either way, he…”

  “Or she.”

  “Either way, the traitor is not likely to rise again,” the Baron said testily. Then, more evenly: “But we shall be careful.”

  The two men settled into an uneasy silence. Around them, the Baron’s servitors slithered silently, watching for a wine glass to refill, for some need to be satisfied. Elsewhere in the castle, the technicians and scientists who had arrived with Khallimar were being integrated into Bellaseus’ own staff, being watched carefully and at all times.

  “I have ideas where we might establish ourselves for the time being,” Bellaseus said.

  Khallimar gazed about dubiously.

  “No, not here,” Bellaseus replied to the unasked question. “The castle is secure and the valley inviolate, but we lack resources and it would be impossible to maintain the social balance of the valley.”

  “Your grand puppet theater,” Khallimar smirked. “How long can you keep the world at bay?”

  “As long as I refuse to let go the strings,” Bellaseus asserted. “I control their lives, as did my father and his before him, going back a full ten generations. The world was banished from this valley, and never returned. My people are born in darkness, reside in darkness, and die in darkness.”

  “And yet this evening the people who dwell in darkness saw a great light.” Khallimar drained his wine, smiled sardonically as a Naga slithered forward to replenish the drink. “Once seen, the light cannot be unseen.”

  Bellaseus bit his lip and tapped his fingers upon the table top. Khallimar was challenging him, like a dog who has entered a house not his own to mark territory. Sooner or later he might have to smack the cur to put him in his place, but during these brittle times it was more expedient to minimize his markings.

  “My people know better than to speak openly about the ways of wizards and gods, for I have my ears among them,” Bellaseus said after he stopped biting his lip and tapping his fingers. “If it is not forgotten, it shall at least not be spoke of.”

  “I am sure you are correct,” Khallimar allowed. “I chastised my pilot for his foolishness. He was overcome by the moment.”

  Bellaseus nodded, but he did not believe his former commander for a moment. He sat up straight as the thought went through him. Yes, if there was going to be a reformation of MEDUSA, a rebirth from the ashes, there would also have to be a reorganization, and that did not necessarily mean that Khallimar would, or even should, remain in a superior position.

  “Is there something wrong?” Khallimar asked. “You suddenly have an odd expression of sorts.”

  “No, nothing wrong…Lord Khallimar,” Bellaseus replied. “Just thinking of the future…our future.” He smiled thinly. “One of the places I gave thought to for future operations was Europa.”

  “Europa?” Khallimar looked at his comrade incredulously. “Are you mad? The Empire keeps a close watch upon Europa.”

  “Not so much a watch upon that moon as upon traffic bound for it,” Bellaseus corrected. “The quarantine.”

  “Upon the moon or the ships that approach it, it hardly matters, does it?” Khallimar challenged. “Besides, from what I have heard the reason for its quarantine is valid.”

  “What have you heard?” Bellaseus asked.

  “Mere rumors and whispers,” Khallimar admitted. “But, as we well know, truth is often found when one looks behind the rumor.”

  “Agreed.”

  “It is said that when Simon Marius termed that moon ‘demon-haunted’ in 1609, he…”

  “Only a thought, one of many,” Bellaseus said with a wave of his hand. “But we shall certainly need another isolated, and more defensible base…” He smiled. “…upon which we may locate our new energy weapon.”

  “New energy weapon?” Khallimar set his glass on the table so hard the stem cracked, causing a Naga servitor to rush in from the shadows with a replacement. “How can you possibly speak of such a project now? We were only able to mount the Hephaestus Project after years of preparation, not just in the organization of MEDUSA, but in the financing and construction of the station. Not only will the Empire and the others be watching for signs of our renaissance, but the research that was lost when…”

  All through Khallimar’s diatribe, Bellaseus’ smile did not waver. The Baron’s smile widened as he watched realization wash through Khallimar, as the once all-powerful leader of MEDUSA wrestled with the idea that tables had turned.

  “Viper!” the dark man hissed. He leaped to his feet, but restive noises from the shadows made him curb his natural intemperance. He could no longer do as he willed in Bellaseus’ realm, not for the moment. He sat down. “You have another machine.”

  “Not as powerful as the facility on Hephaestus,” the Baron admitted. “It cannot manifest the energy of the dark dimension at the same level, but its ability to do so should increase if the Mills and the targeting system are relocated elsewhere.”

  “You co-opted Martin.”

  “My dear Khallimar,” Bellaseus said smugly. “Martin was my man before you even knew he was alive.”

  “His posting to Hephaestus…”

  “Martin was a very strange young man, given to dark passions and murderous fits,” Bellaseus murmured reflectively, thinking of all the secret sins his investigators had brought to light. “He was very useful, to us both obviously, but the Solar System is a much better place without him in it.”

  “Where are the Mills?” Khallimar asked.

  “Hidden among the mountains surrounding my valley.”

  “And the machine itself?”

  Bellaseus pointed downward, into the great stone heart of the ancient castle. “Safe. From everyone.”

  * * *

  “Place gives me the creeps,” Sergeant Felix Hand murmured softly. “I keep expecting to see Frankenstein carting body parts, or maybe Varney peeping around a corner.”

  “Varney?” Lady Cynthia asked.

  “Varney the Vampire,” Hand explained. “Feast of Blood? Epic by James Rhymer?” He sighed. “You know, there is more to read than just the agony columns, society pages and cricket scores.”

  Lady Cynthia and Folkestone looked at each other and traded sighs. The trio had been inside the castle almost a quarter hour. They had previously overcome five Naga guards, who were now trussed up in a storage room. The sight of the Venusian reptiles had erased any doubts about the master of this ancient castle being anyone other than Baron Wilhelm Bellaseus, but other than the guards they had not seen a single soul.

  “Perhaps we should split up,” Lady Cynthia suggested.

  “Not a good idea,” Folkestone said with a curt shake of his head. “It would allow us to search more quickly, but would also triple the chances of our being discovered. If only we knew more about this castle.”

  “Despite our best efforts, we did not learn much at all about the interior of the castle,” Lady Cynthia admitted.

  “We know that it ain’t really a castle, don’t we?” Hand said.

  “What do you mean?” Folkestone asked.

  “Well, from what Lady Cynthia told us, we know the Baron don’t allow the people of the valley to have steamers, gaslight, any electrics at all, or any knowledge of the outer world, any way to get to it,” Hand said. “But we also know that the Baron does very well for himself.” He pointed to the fixtures along the wall. “Got the place fitted for gas, he does. Plus he brings workers in from V
enus, has aether-fliers, modern weapons and communications, and you know he must have a wine cellar, maybe even laboratories like they had on Vulcan.”

  “And your point is?” Folkestone prompted.

  “He got himself a right proper evil lair here, don’t he?” Hand announced. “Just like in…”

  “Yes, I’m quite sure,” Folkestone interrupted. “And no doubt Nicodemus Legend would know exactly what…”

  “Ah, you’re not getting my drift, sir,” Hand said. “It may look like a musty old castle, but it has to function like a modern base, no different, really, than a military post.”

  Folkestone frowned and wondered if all the sensational claptrap with which Hand occupied much of his off-duty hours really had rotted his brain, despite the effects of Mr Shakespeare.

  “I think I see what Sergeant Hand is getting at,” Lady Cynthia said. “We need to forget the castle is a castle. Find areas that could be used as landing and maintenance bays, follow pipes and wires, listen for evidence of engines and turbines.”

  “Exactly,” Hand agreed.

  “Then why the bloody blazes didn’t you just say so?”

  “Captain Folkestone!” Lady Cynthia scolded softly.

  “Pardon my language, M’Lady.”

  “I should bloody hope so.”

  They set off into the depths of the castle, keeping their eyes open for signs of steam and power conduits, listening for indications of modern technology. Each of them carried a backpack filled with shaped high explosives commandeered from one of Her Majesty’s military bases in Persia. Though Professor Swift, now in charge of the aethership, had orders to contact London if they did not return in an hour, they knew the final destruction of MEDUSA and the men who had tried to seize the political engine of the Solar System was at hand, one way or another.