by K. G. McAbee
Nathanial barely was able to restrain a snort. Really, Jericho was enjoying Annabelle’s company rather more than was suitable. Although, admittedly, he did keep her occupied and out of his way.
Stone returned to the rickety cane table under an awning on the poop deck of the Aeronaut, trying without much success to keep from dripping sweat on his open notebook. He was eager to get back to scribbling notes and ideas for a new sort of hydraulic system, inspired by some of the things he’d seen in Forbes-Hamilton’s engine room. The inventor was standing behind him, gazing through a telescope on a tripod mounted at the edge of the deck.
“Rather a lot of air disturbance south of us,” Stone heard him mutter. “Appears to be moving quickly too.”
Stone ignored the man. Surely such a system would prove most useful… He wandered away into the recesses of his mind.
A heavy tread on the deck beside him brought Stone back with a start.
Thymon stalked past him and headed towards Forbes-Hamilton.
“We sshould land, ssir,” said the lizard in his sibilant speech. “Ssee there? It iss a flight of—” he said something indecipherable to Nathanial which sounded very much like “clothespins,” though he was sure he must have misheard.
Forbes-Hamilton called out, “Would you all get below, please? We shall be, uh, landing shortly, and I believe there may be a bit of turbulence in our future.”
Stone didn’t like the concern he could hear clearly in the man’s voice. He stood up, gathering his things, and called, “Annabelle, Jericho. Shall we go below and prepare to disembark at our next stop? No doubt we shall see something interesting there.”
“Nathanial, I can hear your unspoken ‘at last’ and I do not appreciate it,” Annabelle said severely as they all went down the ladder and headed below decks. “Remember, you are the one who promised Uncle Cyrus to take care of me. Honestly! As though I cannot do that quite well on my own. And I for one am having the most delightful time.”
Just as she spoke the last word, the Aeronaut gave a sudden jerk and twist sideways, almost as if the ship were dodging something. Nathanial knew that could not be the case. No airship could respond so quickly, almost like some sort of steam-driven wheeled land vehicle.
Forbes-Hamilton pattered down the ladder behind them an instant later. “Not to worry, not to worry,” he said distractedly. “I must just go down to make sure the boiler is in order.” He disappeared down the ladder to the lower deck, and they could soon hear the occasional “Dear me” and “Good Gad” and once an emphatic “Blast!”
Nathanial could feel himself blushing at the curse, and he was irritated to see that it had not affected Annabelle one iota. She smiled at Jericho and disappeared into her tiny cabin, calling something about “I’ll just find my hat” over her shoulder.
“What is it, old boy?” Jericho asked. “You look rather pale.”
At that instant, the Aeronaut gave a decided list to starboard, spun around, and Nathanial could feel the unmistakable dropping sensation in his nether regions, which could only mean they were falling.
“Grab hold of something!” he shouted.
Jericho gave a squawk and seized a convenient railing, one of many along the passageway. From Annabelle’s cabin, Nathanial could hear cursing far stronger than that used by Forbes-Hamilton. He would have felt embarrassed if he’d had the time, but he did not.
“Watch out for Annabelle!” he shouted. “Get her above deck as quickly as you can! I am going below to check on Forbes-Hamilton!”
Jericho nodded and began to inch his way up a deck no longer level; instead, it seemed to be canted at quite thirty-seven degrees, Stone calculated automatically as he headed for the engine room below. By the time he reached the hatch, the incline had increased and he very nearly fell into the yawning opening. He was just able to grab hold of the railing that lined one side of the ladder.
“Mister Forbes-Hamilton?” he called as he stumbled downwards. “Sir? We appear to be falling, and rather quickly. Will you come, sir?”
The only reply he received was a cloud of oily grey smoke, which set him to coughing. He pressed forward blindly, slipping on the last step and nearly falling but catching himself in time. He hissed in pain as something hot burned his outstretched fingers.
“Sir?” he called again.
No reply.
He was just contemplating the wisdom of leaving the inventor to his fate, since it looked as if they were all going down with his ship, when the Aeronaut righted herself. Since Stone had been canted forward against the pull of gravity, this time he did fall, sprawling onto the greasy decking below him. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch a breath of relatively clean air.
Then, two powerful arms pulled him to his feet and turned him, none too gently, around. His eyes steaming, his burned fingers throbbing, Stone looked up into the gleaming emerald eyes of Thymon.
An instant later, Forbes-Hamilton appeared from the smoky gloom.
“Are you harmed, Professor Stone?” he enquired. “Ah, I see you have singed your hand. Do come along into my cabin; I have some native remedies which are quite efficacious.”
“What…how…the others. I sent them to the deck.”
“Thymon made sure the small ones were ssssafe,” said the lizard-man.
“There, you see? No cause for alarm. Thymon here alerted me in time that we were headed into a cloud of kaloshpinas. They’re a kind of…well, I suppose butterfly is the closest Earth approximation, if you can conceive of a monarch with inch-long spines lining its wings. Plenty of time to take evasive action, though, don’t you know? Now let’s go see about the others.”
Nathanial grabbed him by his sleeve. “Sir, your servant just said they were fine. And my fingers are only singed. I really must know about your evasive manoeuvres just now; I do insist.”
Forbes-Hamilton looked up into Nathanial’s eyes, his own gleaming with pride. “Rather impressive, were they not? It’s all due to my—”
The airship lurched and Forbes-Hamilton fell into Nathanial’s arms.
Shouts and cries came echoing down the hatch.
“Shall we continue this discussion a bit later, my dear sir? I fear our airbags took some hurt.”
They had indeed; Nathanial saw when they arrived on deck. The first airbag was nearly deflated, and the second in the series of five was hissing like a gigantic tea kettle.
“Not to worry,” said Forbes-Hamilton. “We are just about to set down at Fort David. I shall do a few repairs.”
Annabelle ran up to Nathanial, her eyes shining in excitement. “Isn’t this thrilling? One would never have such an exciting trip in a larger ship. Oh, Nathanial, I am so glad we came to Venus! Aren’t you?”
Nathanial didn’t feel the need for a reply as the ship began limping towards the fort he could barely see in the misty distance.
6.
Command Post, Fort David
Her Majesty’s Smallest Outpost on Venus
“Don’t even mention it, I beg you.” Captain Perkins blushed, his ruddy face turning even redder. “It’s the least I can do for such distinguished guests. Do take another cake, Miss Annabelle. Mister Forbes-Hamilton, would you like another cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger? After all, such a thrilling display of navigation should be rewarded, what?”
Nathanial sniffed. Thrilling display indeed! The damaged Aeronaut had drifted like a deflated balloon, constantly sinking, to land about a mile from Fort David. It was the merest luck, he was sure, though he was still determined to find out more about Forbes-Hamilton’s innovative steering mechanism.
Stone, Annabelle, Forbes-Hamilton and Jericho sat on a wide veranda with Captain Josiah Perkins, commander at Fort David. On the broad steps, Thymon squatted, popping bits of fried letoh worms into his mouth with as much enjoyment as though they were chocolate biscuits.
The encampment, while far smaller than Fort Collingwood, the major outpost, was still big enough to boast a small airship hanger, a fairly larg
e settlement, and telegraph links to the other forts. The location of the camp, so close to the edge of the escarpment, gave it a slightly different climate than that of the forts further towards the centre of the plateau. There was, in fact, at this very moment a breeze blowing. While not cool at all, the movement of the air at least gave the hint, the merest feel, of a lower temperature.
Even though they had barely arrived, Nathanial could tell Annabelle was getting the itch to do something. He dreaded what she would come up with. Of course, Jericho and the others had told Perkins of their adventures, and he was also now enslaved to Annabelle.
“Mister Stone, would you like a brandy and soda? Just to calm your nerves.”
“I would,” Nathaniel said gratefully.
“As would I.” Annabelle smiled prettily.
While the captain looked a bit shocked, he mixed drinks for all, though Nathanial could see he added far more soda than brandy to the glass he gave Annabelle.
“Well, what next?” asked the lean captain as he settled back into his chair. “I mean to say, what are your plans now?”
Nathanial opened his mouth to insist on an immediate return to Fort Collingwood as soon as the airship had been repaired, but before he could even begin on his clearly reasoned argument, Annabelle said, “Why, I would truly love to see more, and do please forgive me, Mister Forbes-Hamilton, but a bit more of Venus from ground level.”
“Absolutely not!” Nathanial said, jumping to his feet and nearly spilling his drink. “I think you have seen quite enough, and Doctor Grant would never forgive me if I allowed anything to happen to you.”
Annabelle regarded him calmly, and this irritated Stone even more than usual. He continued, “I do not know what he is going to say to me already, bringing you all this way into such danger.”
“Really, Mister Stone,” said Captain Perkins, “I believe you’re being a bit too hard on this lovely lady. After all, we are on the Victoria plateau, though our little camp is quite near the edge of the escarpment, it’s true. I think we can find a few things to show Miss Annabelle. One should not come to Venus without having a bit of a look-about, some small bit of an adventure.”
“Adventure?” Nathanial snorted. “Please, Captain Perkins, do not encourage the girl. We have faced a charging dinosaur and been forced out of the air by razor-tipped butterflies. I think those are enough adventures for any young lady, do you not agree?”
“Oh, Nathanial, don’t be so stuffy.” Annabelle sipped her drink. “I’ve already discussed it. Dear Mister Forbes-Hamilton will be some time repairing his lovely airship, as he had to have some supplies brought in from Fort Collingwood. We can’t simply sit around and drink the captain’s brandy while we wait, can we?”
She smiled at Perkins and he blushed again, muttering “No, no, er, yes indeed,” into his walrus moustache.
“A short safari into the bush, Nathanial old chap,” chimed in Jericho. “Just the thing to see a bit more of Venus on the ground, so to speak. I mean to say, floating in the clouds is delightful and all that, but there’s nothing like getting one’s hands dirty, splashing some mud on one’s boots, is there?”
“I feel you are all in league against me,” Nathanial sighed. Then he forced himself to relax. “But perhaps you are right. A short—short, mind you, Annabelle—trip into the jungle while we wait for parts would not be such a bad thing, I suppose.”
“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it, Nathanial my dear?” Annabelle looked smug, as only Annabelle could. “After all, you know I can take care of myself. Do recall, I have my bow, and the darling captain has promised me a new quiver full of arrows.” She gave Perkins a brilliant smile, and he turned the reddest yet. “Just a day or two. I’m sure we can find a suitable guide, and you know how safe the plateau is. After all, it’s nearly England, isn’t it?”
“Now, Miss Annabelle!” Perkins sat up straight; even his moustache looked concerned. “Do remember, we are on a savage planet, full to bursting with creatures who would like nothing better than to have you for lunch.”
The crunching of letoh worms punctuated his warning.
Annabelle laughed. “Dear Captain! After what Nathanial and I went through on Luna, Venus seems like nothing more than a walk in the park.”
Nathanial drained his brandy-and-soda. What, he wondered, would Annabelle get him into next? His mind boggled at the thought.
7.
Fort David Township
The small settlement of Fort David was a bustling hive of activity. Settlers from many of Her Majesty’s colonies on Earth had taken the Queen’s offer of transportation and land; in exchange, they provided the Commonwealth with an ever-burgeoning supply of goods. The kalsa-wood indigenous to Venus was light and flexible, yet stronger than oak; great plantations of the kalsa trees were a main resource. Fruit and vegetable seeds brought from home grew huge and quickly in the hot and moist environment, and many of the local lizard species provided either meat or muscle for ploughs. The rich, deep soil of Venus produced exuberantly and there was a thriving market on Earth and Mars for the dried produce of the Venus colonies. It was hardly economical to transport these products in their natural state across the vast reaches of the aether to other planets, but the clever colonists had solved even this seemingly insurmountable problem. Whole crops were transported into the upper aether where the direct sunlight and the thin air dried them to the consistency of leather within a few days.
As Annabelle and Nathanial moved through Fort David’s marketplace, they heard a variety of languages, from Gujarat to Gaelic. Most people they saw wore clothing of the hotter regions of Earth, loose flowing robes and full breeches, with high leather boots to protect them from the smaller poisonous lizards, which had not been eradicated, though their numbers were far fewer than in the early years, during the first colonisation of the planet. In those long past days, very nearly half of all the settlers did not live out their first year.
Annabelle took a deep breath of the scented air. “Smell the fruits, Nathanial! Better than all the perfumes of Araby. Is not this a delightful planet? So very, very different from Luna.”
Nathanial raised his boot. He had had the misfortune to step in a large and steaming pile of varaneto dung; the sluggish herbivores, the size of water buffalo, were used as pack animals.
“Perfume indeed,” he said as he tried to clean his boot by wiping it on a convenient log, with little success. “Really, Annabelle, have we not looked enough? These folk are simple farmers; they have neither the time nor intention of travelling into the jungles.”
“Now, Nathanial.” Annabelle patted him on the arm. “You know Captain Perkins said there was an agency near here which handles trips into the bush for visiting gentlemen on their grand tour, and for scientists from Earth who come across the aether to study Venus.” She pulled a bit of paper from her leather gauntlet and checked its contents. “We take a left at the end of the market. We’re looking for Thorne’s Emporium. Come along. Don’t dawdle so.” Annabelle dashed forward, just missing a pair of varaneto bulls hooked to a wide low wagon heaped with pumpkins the size of boulders. The driver of the team saluted her with a wide grin and a flourish of his whip.
Nathanial gave up on his soiled boot and followed her. Perhaps the dust of the road—he looked down and grimaced—the mud of the road would clean off the dung by the time they arrived.
8.
Thorne’s Emporium
Nathanial looked down the long, narrow street—really, not much bigger than an alley in London—stretching before him.
“Annabelle?” he called.
Drat the girl! She would always insist on racing ahead of him. One day it would land them both in trouble, he was sure. Still, he thought as he paced down the alleyway, she carried a knife in one boot, a tiny derringer in the other, and she was well versed in the use of both. She was probably far better able to take care of herself here on Venus than he was.
Such dismal thoughts occupied his mind as he trudged down t
he rough walkway, covered over with warped boards, which, in turn, covered half the street. He glanced up from time to time to read the signs above each storefront; several of the wooden buildings towered quite three stories into the air, and here or there a brick one looked smugly at its neighbours, conscious of its superiority.
Wo Fat’s Laundry had clouds of fragrant steam billowing out into the already far too steamy air.
Morridan’s Best Gentlemen’s Boots promised “the finest lizard leather.”
Paneeri Teas and Cakes really smelled most inviting.
The end of the passageway opened to a much wider thoroughfare. Nathanial stepped up onto a raised wooden walkway.
“There you are at last, Nathanial!” Annabelle was waiting for him, tapping her booted foot in her usual impatient fashion. “You keep getting lost!”
“Well, if you did not dash ahead, you would not continue to lose me,” he pointed out, with some reason, he believed.
Annabelle snorted. “Hmph. Never mind that now. Here’s Thorne’s Emporium. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.
Thorne’s Emporium proved to be a long low building that stretched down the street to their right. Nathanial followed Annabelle to an interior redolent of the smells of odd spices and old clothes and leather. Several customers were being waited on.
A red-haired gentleman, his whip-lean form wrapped about with a dirty apron from below which peeked sturdy boots, bustled forward.
“Miss! Sir! Hezekiah Thorne, at your service. Do come in and tell me how I can help you.”
Annabelle gave him a friendly nod. “We are new arrivals in your lovely town, sir, and would like to see a bit more of the countryside. I was told by Captain Josiah Perkins that you were the man to see.”