series 01 06 Dark Side of Luna

by J. T. Wilson

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dark Side of Luna

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  A Dream Fulfilled

  Acknowledgements

  Space: 1889 & Beyond—Dark Side of Luna

  By J.T. Wilson & Frank Chadwick

  Copyright 2012 by J.T. Wilson & Frank Chadwick

  Space: 1889 © & ™ Frank Chadwick 1988, 2012

  Cover & Logo Design © Steve Upham and

  Untreed Reads Publishing, 2011, 2012

  Cover Art © David Burson and Untreed Reads Publishing, 2012

  Space: 1889 & Beyond developed by Andy Frankham-Allen

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Other Titles in the Space: 1889 & Beyond Series

  Journey to the Heart of Luna

  Vandals on Venus

  The Ghosts of Mercury

  A Prince of Mars

  Abattoir in the Aether

  Conspiracy of Silence

  http://www.untreedreads.com

  “DARK SIDE OF LUNA”

  By J.T. Wilson & Frank Chadwick

  Prologue

  1.

  (1882)

  IT WAS Impossible! A girl of twelve, left to her own devices on an Arizonian ranch, had a million ways to occupy herself; yet her parents decided that Sunday was best spent not exploring these myriad possibilities, but engaging on a ramble with them. Annabelle Somerset was too young to defy her parents and, in any case, would never dream of such disrespect; surely, though, her parents detected her frustration at being impressed into the excursion.

  Her father, the great walker, decided the family should explore the Chiricahua Mountains. Her mother suggested the range, handsome though it might be, was too dangerous, particularly for Annabelle. Her father, however, stood firm and eventually won out, hence she found herself beneath the blazing sun of an Arizona midday. Their journey was largely confined to the lower mountains and Annabelle wondered why her mother held the opinion this range was dangerous. A giraffe would scarcely have difficulty on this walk.

  When they paused for a picnic luncheon some echoing noises attracted the attention of young Annabelle. The noises indicated the presence of life other than their own in the mountains, animal life from the sound of clattering hooves.

  “Mountain goats!” cried Annabelle, clapping her hands and running in the direction of the sound.

  “Annabelle, no!” her mother cried after her.

  “Let her go, Joan,” her father said languidly, spreading some jam on a slice of bread. “There is hardly a case for arguing with Annabelle in this mood. Besides, you can hear the hooves, it’s quite clear that it is nothing more than animals. Be careful not to frighten them, Annabelle!”

  “Yes, yes,” replied Annabelle dismissively. Had she known what was to follow, her response would not have been so casual.

  2.

  THE NOISES came from a cavern approximately twenty feet from where the Somersets had broken for lunch, and which went some way back into the mountain. Hoisting her petticoats up, Annabelle clambered over rocks to enter the cavern and then ducked her head to pass under the low ceiling of the entrance. The ceiling quickly rose, leaving Annabelle in a cavern some eight feet high and at least twice as broad. There was no sign of the mountain goats, however.

  “Here, goats,” Annabelle said, walking towards the centre of the cavern. She still heard noises from the far end, but she could not ascertain their source and the light dwindled the farther she moved from the cavern mouth. She recognized the noises as the clopping of hooves and snorts of a horse, or perhaps a team of them, and then heard a distinctly human voice. She could not make out the words, but the intent was clear: the speaker attempted to quiet the horse.

  Suddenly, she realized what she had fallen into and she had barely time to turn on her heels before someone grabbed her.

  Of course, even a mere slip of a girl such as Annabelle would hardly stand for seizure by an unknown assailant, and her bawling and kicking almost forced the kidnapper to release her. He clapped a hand over her mouth to regain control, but this only produced further squeals and a painful bite.

  “Annabelle!” came her mother’s voice from outside the cavern. “Ezekiel, hurry!”

  Before Annabelle could cry out again, her assailant dodged behind a rock, concealing himself from sight and holding Annabelle in a rough choke that left her unable to breathe or speak. As the villain finally loosened his grip and as her eyes adjusted to the light, Annabelle realised that he and she were not alone. Indeed, the man had a number of confederates, pressed against the sides of the rock. She could, however, see no glint of steel at the hips of the men, so these were not the pistol-toting desperadoes rumoured at her school.

  “Annabelle, I hope this is no joke,” said her father nearby.

  “Ezekiel, I did say this was no place for her!” said her mother, in a tone which blended reproach and anxiety.

  “No time for that now. If you heard her here, she must have wandered into the cave; let’s see what we can find.”

  Her parents’ figures appeared, silhouetted against the light. Annabelle strained to call out, but the man reapplied his choke and hissed at her in a language she had no hope of understanding. It was at this stage that she realised who her captors must be. Indians!

  She knew she had to warn her parents. She threw her hands against the strong forearm of the man and, finding some purchase, gave a strangulated cry which she hoped would serve as warning. The call, however, was incoherent and she realised to her dismay that it only drew her parents further into the cave.

  “If someone is holding my daughter against her will,” her father said, “then I insist you release her. I have some standing in the city; you would attract a higher ransom with me than with a child.”

  Something in her father’s tone caused Annabelle to hold her breath. Never had she heard his voice shake so.

  To their left and right, Indians drew their tomahawks. Their intent was apparent, made all the more horrific to Annabelle because she had no means of preventing it.

  She gave one final scream and, at the same time, the Indians flung their tomahawks, succeeding in both instances, catching her parents in the skulls. As the bodies slumped forwards, Annabelle became acutely aware of two things: the first, that she was now orphaned; the second, that she was the captive of a group of hostile savages.

  Chapter One

  “Homeward Bound”

  1.

  ANNABELLE SOMERSET knew HMAS Sov
ereign was the pride of the Royal Navy. It was an impressive vessel, capable of travel between the planets at velocities one might describe as “frightening.” Four hundred and some feet from bow to stern, it was a leviathan of liftwood, of brass, of glass. Englishmen aground would raise their glasses as it passed gracefully by, on its way to some unknown adventure, while Russians, Frenchmen and Germans alike no doubt privately cursed their luck at having no ship so glorious.

  But today, something was amiss. There had been no reported instances of turbulence in the aether, nor any hostilities that would lead to the ship being struck. Asteroids could hardly be at fault either. It seemed, rather, that it was simply lumbering awkwardly, flying not with the majestic strides of a stallion in full tilt but with the awkward gait of a hippopotamus on a rooftop. Engineers and navigators, she had heard, worried at the problem in the hope of redressing the balance and restoring Sovereign to its usual potency, but so far to no avail.

  In the ship’s sick bay, meanwhile, Annabelle found herself engaged in her own animated discussion with Sovereign’s first officer, Lieutenant George Bedford. Much had transpired since their first meeting. Most importantly, she had been whole seven months earlier, but was now without her right leg. Her companion, nominal chaperon, and increasingly her friend, Nathanial Stone, was now being held in the brig of Sovereign on suspicion of treason, the charge stemming from the total destruction of the prototype Heliograph station, Peregrine. Any suggestion of Nathanial’s culpability for that atrocity was dreadful nonsense, of course.

  “Surely you can see that these allegations are utter rot, Mister Bedford. You must be certain of that,” Annabelle protested.

  “It is not my place to judge his guilt or innocence, Miss Somerset, as I am sure you know. That he stands accused of treason leaves us with no alternative to incarceration and transportation home for trial,” Bedford answered.

  “A suspected traitor? I fail to see how there’s an ounce of plausibility in that tale. What happened at Peregrine Station was scarcely Nathanial’s responsibility and I’m certain the entire Navy can see that. Why, even Ordinary Seaman Byron was saying that he could see Nathanial’s innocence. Are you suggesting yourself to be less perceptive than a mere boy from a press gang?”

  “Your argument, I believe, in protestation of his innocence, is that the sabotage was in fact caused by a largely mythical French villain who stowed away on the station using a method that remains unknown. Which of these two tales sounds more plausible to you?”

  Was this why George had not come to see her earlier? Annabelle felt the blood drain from her face and anger cloud her vision. She abruptly sat up in the bed. “How dare you! Mythical? Was the bullet that shattered my shin mythical? Was the infection which took my leg, and nearly my life, mythical? If your own argument relies on the belief that I would deliberately invent these occurrences, and presumably cut off my own limb to make my ‘protestations of innocence’ more plausible, then honestly I wonder why you would even honour me with your presence, or why I am not also currently in chains. In either case, I think it time you left.” As she finished Annabelle was surprised to feel tears on her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away.

  George faltered and took a step back, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “I…that was not my intention at all,” he eventually managed, “I assure you, I have no such…no, you are quite right. I will leave you at once, and not pain you with my presence again. But first I offer my most humble and sincere apologies for my inexcusable remark.”

  He put his cap on and turned to leave as Sovereign lurched again, sending a number of medical instruments clattering to the deck and throwing Annabelle off balance. She cried out as she began to pitch to the side and toward the deck, but in a flash Bedford caught her in his arms and righted her on the bed. His face flushed, he stepped back again to depart.

  “My words are generally better-considered. I cannot explain why I spoke so stupidly just now. I only… You make an impression, Miss Somerset. Goodbye.”

  Annabelle looked down to conceal the flush she felt come to her own cheeks. As she did so she saw the outline of her solitary leg under the sickbay blanket, and she felt her heart sink. This verbal jousting, this game they played from habit—what did it matter? And now look where it had brought them! Would her angry words bring back her leg? Would they reopen the door to a future forever closed by a surgeon’s blade, wielded inside a dirty tent pitched in a Martian dry canal bed? She heard Bedford’s steps as he began to leave.

  “Wait,” she said, and Bedford turned back to her. “You do so as well, Lieutenant Bedford—make an impression. Sometimes I say stupid things I wish with all my heart I could take back. I accept your apology on the condition that when I say something outrageous and unforgivable, as I certainly shall, you will extend me the same favour.”

  Bedford looked at her for a moment, then walked back, took of his hat, and solemnly offered her his hand. She shook it. He seemed to relax a bit and she settled back on her pillows. Bedford pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat, his hat in his lap and his face still flushed with embarrassment. For a moment neither of them spoke

  “You said ‘in chains as well’, earlier,” he finally managed, “but Professor Stone is hardly in chains. The truth is I have already addressed the professor’s captivity with the captain. As you may have noticed, Sovereign is faltering. Boswell manages as best he can, naturally; however he intimated he would be grateful for assistance and frankly, the best man for the job is the man in the brig. I’ve made an application for the professor to be released from confinement in order to attend to this engineering problem. Guarded at all times, naturally, but released nonetheless. I fear an accused traitor is rather less of a problem than a shipwreck, after all.”

  “Has your petition been successful, Lieutenant?”

  “I fear not,” he replied sadly. “The captain feels that with our aether propeller already partially compromised, we can scarcely afford to put a suspected saboteur in close proximity to it. Naturally I’ve offered my judgment that the benefits outweigh the risks; however, while I may propose, it is for the captain to dispose. Incidentally, perhaps we might dispense with the formalities. You are not one of the crew, so no need to use my rank. Please call me George.”

  Annabelle was thrown slightly. “Really, I had no idea that you gave such consideration to how I might address you,” she said, not wishing to admit that she thought of him by his Christian name in any event. “In fact, based on the frequency of your visits here, I had no idea that you gave any consideration to me at all.” She attempted to recapture their previous mood of good-natured jousting, but the fact that her breathing had suddenly become shallow was testament to the conversation having suddenly become deep.

  “On the contrary, I have thought of you more than once since we parted company.” George displayed a nervousness she had not seen before, even when they had been surrounded by hostile Russians on Luna.

  “I, too.” The words stumbled out of her mouth as uncertain and awkward as debutant ice-skaters. She swore an oath inwardly on finding that she was no more gracious with her phrasing than she was with her feet. Her foot, rather. “I, too, have thought of you…”

  Any chance of further probing, however, was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Captain Folkard.

  “Ah, Bedford, I was expecting to find you here,” Folkard said, touching his hat in deference to Annabelle.

  “Really, sir?” replied George, somewhat taken aback.

  “Naturally! A good captain always knows where his men are, after all,” Folkard responded. “I was thinking, Lieutenant, Sovereign is experiencing more turbulence than expected in the aether vortexes of late. Hardly a problem for a seasoned flyer such as you or I, of course, but some of the younger men are complaining. Of course it would be preferable if White or Grant were here, but in their absence I thought perhaps it best if Professor Stone would be released from the brig and have a look. Guarded at all times, naturally, but releas
ed nonetheless. A bloodthirsty dissident is better than a shipwreck, after all, eh?”

  George responded with a smile so tight it would have served a lady well as a corset. Annabelle quite approved. “Excellent idea, sir. Really, I don’t know where you get these ideas.”

  “Yes, well, that’s why I’m the captain, after all, Bedford. They employ me to be the idea man, don’t you know.”

  “As you will, sir.”

  “I should note that this is merely a stopgap measure in any event. Providing the ship stays on course and regains nominal speed, we should arrive back on Earth in approximately seventy hours. By then, Miss Somerset, I hope you will be adequately recovered from your injury to travel. I trust Doctor Beverly is taking care of you?”

  “His care is adequate, Captain, if anything too solicitous. Indeed I would be more fully recovered had the doctor allowed me to use the ‘leg’ Nathanial and Kak’hamish built for me. Although not the most comfortable device, I managed with it for a time on Mars. And, in truth, it holds value beyond that,” she said softly, thinking of their deceased friend Kak’hamish, the artist who had carved the leg, not to mention saved their lives several times over.

  “I was appalled to learn of the loss of your leg, Miss Somerset. Once again, a consequence of the actions of that scoundrel Stone, I understand,” murmured Folkard.

  “Nathanial saved my life. Twice, in this instance!” Annabelle retorted hotly.

  “The same Stone that you recommend releasing, Captain?” asked George, pointedly, for which Annabelle was thankful.

  “Yes, quite so.” Folkard nodded, and Annabelle was certain she saw a slight smile on his countenance.

  2.

  “COME ON, you maggot, or you’ll be tipped the scroby before lights out!”

  Ordinary Seaman Ross McKittrick warmed to the part of overseer of Professor Stone. After a shaky start, during which neither man had been entirely comfortable in their respective roles, McKittrick settled into the task, drawing on his experience as a gaoler some years previously. He’d even managed to recall some of the more colourful language his co-workers used back then. The rifle that he had been armed with only added to the overall effect. Admittedly, nervous of the possibility of overexcitement and unwilling to actually fire at a fellow Englishman, he had taken the opportunity to remove the bullets. Still, he felt a smart rap aside the temple using the butt of the rifle ought to be sufficient to quell any belligerence and he had certainly not disclosed to his charge that the weapon lacked bullets. If only the engine room had been a more reasonable temperature, he might have enjoyed the novelty of his new duty.