“Good. I was thinking we might use your heliograph to flash Sunward Observation. What do you think?”
“That’s a capital idea!”
“I thought so. The flyer is too large to enter the docking bay, but I’m sure they could send out men with fresh oxygen tanks to get us inside.”
The men organised and drank their tea. A little respite was needed, following their harrowing journey across the station’s underside, but they could not wait long. Dolan was still on the loose, and he’d had half an hour at least to do whatever he had planned, whether it was seize control of the station for himself, free van den Bosch and Hague, or something else.
“I’ll have him in shackles,” Fullbright said. “The drunken fool! No doubt he’s working for van den Bosch, even now!”
“How could he try and murder us?” Holmes said. “What game is he at, do you think, and who does he work for?”
“It’s van den Bosch, I tell you!” Fullbright said.
“I’m not so certain of that, Fullbright,” Nathanial replied. Briefly he told them what he knew about the stabiliser mystery, about van den Bosch and Le Boeuf, Torquilstone, and Professor Wren’s death. Provost and Holmes were stunned to hear that such a struggle had been going on, under everyone’s noses, for several months. Years, if one counted the time before Peregrine Station was constructed in the aether.
“So that’s why we were in Hell the day of the explosion in the greenhouse,” Provost said. “You never really explained.” Nathanial thought he saw a look of relief flash behind the botanist’s eyes, as if to say he understood now that he was not merely larking about that day but working toward a key point in the mystery.
“And you believe Dolan could be working for Le Boeuf?” Fullbright asked.
“It’s possible,” Nathanial said. “I’ve been thinking about the entries in Wren’s journal. He says that Le Boeuf and his assistant, a fellow named Brennan, were smuggled aboard after the last resupply ship left. The timeline shows that they arrived before the station had been pressurised. As you know, the threatening notes began arriving around this time. I believe the notes were from Brennan, just as I believe it was Brennan who was causing the havoc aboard the station. I don’t believe it was part of Le Boeuf’s plan, and he killed Brennan before the man could cause any more destruction. Or, before we captured him.
“Now, someone had to have smuggled these two aboard, initially. True, Professor Wren might have done so, but it’s doubtful he could do it alone. He would need help. I say this could be Dolan, who, like Le Boeuf, has proven he’s willing to kill.”
“Yes, but towards what ends?”
“Torquilstone, of course. I don’t believe van den Bosch when he says Le Boeuf is here to destroy him. I believe Le Boeuf needed to be near the aether for some reason to perfect his machine, a machine that could have limitless possibilities. If Dolan is in league with him, they may have wanted us dead. Fullbright and I knew about Torquilstone, after all, and once we had found and repaired the stabilisers, it was safer for them that we die.”
“Then by what you’re saying, we won’t face Dolan at all when we return to Peregrine,” Provost said. He went to the heliograph, lit two candles and slid them into the cabinet below the mirror. Here, a series of mirrors would reflect the candlelight onto the heliograph when its shutters were opened. “In fact, it’s likely we’ll face the opposite. His compatriots have shown a willingness and ability to disappear into the woodworks like termites. It’s likely Dolan will do the same.”
Fullbright spat a curse. “I knew from the start the man was trouble.”
2.
They roused Esmeralda and took her upwards to the very end of her tether. Fullbright flashed a brief message to Sunward Operations three times before someone finally noticed. A moment of silence ensued while a makeshift heliograph was assembled, one that tapped out a message that help was coming.
Two men were sent out to determine the problem. Sunward had mistakenly believed workers repairing Annabelle’s flyer had run into a problem. When the men arrived, they were surprised to find Nathanial and the others on their second cup of tea, embroiled in an animated debate over the practical applications of Babbage’s analytic engine. Four fresh air tanks were fetched, and everyone returned to Peregrine Station, Nathanial and the others tense and ready to begin the monumental task ahead of them.
Holmes suggested they arrange the memorial service immediately, declaring that a “couple of bad seeds shouldn’t deter us from doing what is right”, to be followed by the partial evacuation. His logic was clear. By winnowing the workers to manageable levels, they could address the subject of oxygen supplies, send emissaries to Mars for supplies and to inform British interests there of what was transpiring so it could be transmitted to Earth, and to send more to help locate Le Boeuf and Dolan.
Fullbright returned to Sunward Observation to order Operations to fire the stabilisers at once. Word of his doing so circulated among the workers, and they gathered in the basilica to listen with excitement to the good news. Cheers rose up among them as it was explained the nightmare was over.
Dolan’s betrayal was not mentioned. As he was popular among the workers, it was considered best to leave him out of all mentions of their success outside Peregrine, lest some of the men become upset. Nathanial added that there might be men on the security staff more loyal to the Irishman than to the whole of Peregrine. If that was the case, it would be imprudent to mention his crimes, especially when those same men would be armed and potentially dangerous. Instead, Provost announced after news of the stabilisers that they were disassembling their security staff temporarily, and that the men should return their rifles to the armoury until further notice. Some showed confusion at this, but Provost explained that all would be made clear later.
Nathanial pushed through the crowd and went to Annabelle’s quarters. He could find no sign that she had been there recently, but he had not expected it. Instead, he searched her belongings, hoping to find one of her weapons. The contents of her steamer trunk were in disarray, as if someone had gone through it recently. Nathanial wondered who might have been here. Hague, probably, or could it have been Dolan?
Under Annabelle’s cot he found her Bowie knife still in its sheathe. He hefted it, amazed at how heavy it was. This was hardly the weapon for a woman, he thought. The blade was eight inches long and an inch-and-a-half thick. Its edge, he knew, was kept razor sharp. He had hoped for her derringer, but this would have to do. He knew very little about the use of such a weapon, but he felt if he could get close enough the damage he could do with it, even being an amateur knife-fighter, could be significant.
Nathanial left Annabelle’s quarters. He looked about. The main corridor between Austrian and British was deserted. The station was the most quiet he had seen it since his arrival. The men must be down in the dormitories, preparing themselves for the memorial. Annabelle was supposed to meet Dolan at the quartermaster, according to van den Bosch the day he confronted Annabelle in sickbay. He should check there first. Perhaps he could find some clue as to where she went. Perhaps it would also provide a place for him to enter the air ducts so he might begin his search. Now was the time to end this.
3.
The station hummed as the stabilisers fired. Fullbright was correcting course. Good. Nathanial decided to return to his quarters before going to the quartermaster. He had an oil lamp there and could use the station’s blueprints as well to find his way about. He had nothing that illustrated the ductwork, but he could make assumptions as to where he was and what he was likely to see based on the station drawings themselves.
At his door panel Nathanial slid his fingers into the skull’s eye sockets and pressed the latch. The door clacked, and slid to the side.
Nathanial’s breath caught in his throat.
“Hello, Nathanial,” Annabelle said.
Chapter Thirty-One
“A Reversal of Fortunes”
1.
“I have a story to t
ell, Nathanial, but I have no time to tell it.”
He peeked through a small crack in the door. The workers were coming up from the dorms and filing toward British. The memorial service would take place in the galley, the only room large enough to hold everyone at once. He would give them another ten minutes to get settled. That should relieve the burden of any possible stragglers interrupting his work.
Nathanial slid the door closed and looked at Annabelle, who sat at the table near his cot. Her face and body appeared as if it had been in a war. She was dressed in a blue coverall with boots matching those of the men on the station, and the front of the coverall was stained with drying blood. Her arm, still in the bandage, looked swollen. The fingers on that hand were red and splotchy, perhaps from poor circulation. Her black hair was mussed and caked in places to the back of her head with brown, dried blood where she said someone―probably Dolan―had struck her. And her face had a number of new bruises on them. She had declined to reveal how she had received them. Nathanial could not help but wonder if Dolan had given her those, too.
Damn the man! It did not matter that the Irishman was dead. Nathanial wanted more justice for the man. Death, no matter how brutal it might have been (and given the bloodstains on her coverall, it had not been painless), whatever he had got was not enough.
“Are you all right, Annabelle?”
“My head hurts. I’ve injured it twice since we came here. Ah, I must look a mess, don’t I?”
“We should let Doctor Holmes examine you.”
“No. There’s no time.”
“I don’t fancy this, Annabelle,” he said. “I can’t tell you how I’ve worked these past eleven days to save Peregrine Station from the vortex, and now you want me to undo what I’ve done.”
“I’m sorry, Nathanial. We can’t allow Le Boeuf to succeed.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense. What is the term you enjoy so? ‘You must empty out the bathing-tub, but not the baby with it’? It seems we are doing that.”
Annabelle sighed. She looked as if she had not slept in days, either, though she appeared much the worse for wear. “We have no choice.”
“This conspiracy you imagine cannot compare with what they have planned. You say van den Bosch calls Le Boeuf the Devil. I say he is right. I’ve seen it. Dolan told me what they will do. We were supposed to die, you see, and no one was ever to know about Torquilstone, at least not until it was too late.”
“We do have a choice,” Nathanial said. “You say Le Boeuf has more agents here.”
“More than you or I could possibly find.”
“But we have to try.”
“Nathanial, we have to do this before they regroup. Don’t you see? Once Le Boeuf learns you survived, he’s going to try and kill you. We don’t have time for a witch hunt. We have to get everyone off this station, and within the hour, or he will find a way to escape onto one of the cutters. You know he can disguise his appearance. He’ll find a way.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “You don’t understand, do you?” She wept, and the tears shook loose onto her cheeks. “Please, Nathanial. He can’t be allowed to escape!”
Twice now he had seen her cry, once tears of sorrow, now tears of desperation. Nathanial went to her and drew her close. She accepted his touch and hugged herself against his side, burying her face into his lapel.
“The French Commune. They’ve unwittingly financed Torquilstone from the beginning. I don’t know what sort of sum van den Bosch paid Professor Wren, but it was not for the aether machine. The French believe Le Boeuf and his men are here to disrupt communications between Earth and Mars. They arranged for him to be smuggled onto the station and provided him the equipment he needed. They had no idea that he planned to build such a device while here. I don’t think even they would have agreed if they knew what Le Boeuf has planned!”
“I’ve seen Torquilstone, Annabelle. I know its capabilities.”
“Do you?”
The minutes passed, and soon it was time to begin. He peeked outside one last time to make certain everyone was safely within the galley. When he was reasonably sure the halls were clear, Nathanial and Annabelle snuck out into the corridor. In the pocket of his trousers he had Annabelle’s derringer, now. She had pulled it from Dolan’s corpse, she’d said as she gave it over in exchange for the Bowie knife.
“You’d get killed trying to use it,” she’d said of the knife. “Take the gun. Try to be within short range when you fire. It’s more effective, then.”
2.
They set a brisk pace through the basilica. Nathanial was nervous. He wanted to run, but Annabelle was in no shape for it. She also insisted on carrying Nathanial’s satchel, even though he had been of a mind to leave it behind. That she was able to match his quick step seemed a miracle.
“I’ve been through many trials the past two weeks, but it’s been worth it. I know what must be done, Nathanial. You may not want to believe any of it at first, but I ask you to trust me. You must trust me. If you don’t, Le Boeuf is going to bring something into the world that will eventually destroy it.”
They passed the galley. The doors were slid closed. From inside came the buzz of two hundred or more workers talking amongst themselves before the service began. Good, Nathanial thought. They had an hour, at least. More than enough time to do what needed doing.
Fullbright’s quarters were next to van den Bosch’s. Nathanial could imagine the Juggernaut was still abed. He doubted the man would have even wanted to attend the service if he had been of good health. Pressing an ear to the wall, Nathaniel heard the man’s deep snores, confirming his suspicion.
Inside Fullbright’s quarters, Nathanial riffled his friend’s possession until he located the station log, which Fullbright had dutifully kept every day since he had first come aboard. Finding the information they needed, Nathanial and Annabelle left British and returned to Austrian, heading straight to Sunward Observation.
3.
Nathanial went to Operations, a station along the left wall facing the viewport. The controls here were unfamiliar to him, but that was not an insurmountable problem. He located the stabiliser controls and studied them. The coordinates next to each control told him what he needed to know. Using the controls he fired the stabilisers, laying in a course for the aether vortex’s last known position, adjusted for time and velocity. Furthermore, he boosted the station’s own velocity to many times what it had been during the past twelve days, when they were drifting toward the vortex to begin with.
He stepped back, and Annabelle ruined the controls with the handle of her Bowie knife.
“It’s a power source. I abhor his methods for its construction, using subterfuge, terror, and even murder, but I cannot help but admire what Le Boeuf has created. It’s a grand device, and it might even one day see use. Imagine what can be done with it.”
“You’re a decent man, Nathanial Stone. You see Torquilstone and think of how it can be used for the greater good. You imagine a better England, a better Earth. But you are naive. You haven’t seen horror yet. Oh, you’ve seen dangers aplenty, but you’ve never seen a blanket smother the child it’s swaddling or the spoon that chokes the starving man.”
“Quit speaking in such ways, Annabelle. This is not you at all. Come to your senses and talk plainly, or I will drag you to see Holmes.”
“A weapon, Nathanial. Le Boeuf is going to use the Torquilstone power source to build a weapon, and he’s going to turn it on England. Dolan told me. ‘England will be the New Atlantis, burning as it falls into the sea.’ That’s what he said.”
“My God…”
“We have to destroy it, Nathanial. We have to destroy Torquilstone, and the only way to do it, the only way it can be accomplished without Le Boeuf’s agents murdering us before we’ve had our chance, is to do it now and to send it―and this station―into the vortex.”
“My God…”
“And Le Boeuf. Nathanial, he can’t be allowed to escape. If he escapes, he’ll take the secret with
him, and he’ll rebuild Torquilstone. Once that sort of device is unleashed on the world, even if he’s stopped, nations will destroy each other trying to possess it. It will be like Pandora’s Box, releasing evil onto the world. And once the box is opened…”
Nathanial let out a long sigh, feeling the tension in his shoulders. Regret wanted to overwhelm him, but he had no time for it. “Holmes is going to be upset when we interrupt the service, but we need to act as quickly as possible. We have perhaps two hours before the station strikes the vortex’s outer edge.”
Annabelle shook her head. “Not half as angry as Fullbright will be when he finds out you’ve destroyed the station.” She took Nathanial’s arm then. “We should get moving, then. There’s a lot to do in a short time.”
“Agreed. Let’s find Holmes and the others, and let’s leave this miserable place, once and for all.”
They had started down the stairs to the deck when a shot rang out. Annabelle cried out and fell over, grasping at her leg just below the knee.
Nathanial looked up from her to see a man dressed in Professor Wren’s ragged clothes, though the man no longer wore Wren’s ghastly face. In its place was the face of a handsome, distinguished gentleman with a charismatic cast to his eyes. His black hair, slightly receding, was oiled back against his scalp and slightly greying at the temples.
“Le Boeuf,” Nathanial said.
The man raised his pistol, pointing it at Nathanial’s head. “Professor Stone,” he said. “We meet at last.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Le Boeuf Triumphant!”
1.
“Careful, Stone. I intentionally shot Miss Somerset in the leg. I don’t have to be so discerning with you.”
Nathanial stood where he was. Annabelle writhed on the floor. She had made little noise after the initial shock of being shot, but she was demonstrating a ferocious level of pain. Blood leaked through her fingers.
series 01 04 Abattoir in the Aether Page 16