Fanning knew that Dingbang had been the person to find Ketteridge and had offered the services of the Frozen Beauty to carry the cargo. That would mean that he had been the first to be infected. And this was the result. After the disorientation and strange behaviour came paralysis.
Seems that would mean that Montgomery was infected soon after Dingbang, unless the degree of hard work he had engaged in had accelerated the effect. Fanning knew that snakebite venom spread faster when a person was agitated. Perhaps this was the same.
No one was stoking the furnace and that meant they would lose pressure. Fanning did not want to die, but if killing Ketteridge and this fungus meant drowning them all in the ocean, that was what she would do.
Handles controlled valves on the pipes that led up to the balloons. She decided not to close them. Remy had already started the process at his end. He knew what he was doing, even in his confused state. She did not know what effect closing them at this end would have.
The new pipes leading down into the cargo hold were obvious, along with the hole that had been made through the deck to accommodate them. She moved across to the newly cut access, got down on all fours, and peered down.
Several layers confronted her: first, the one-inch-thick wooden deck itself and then a six-inch layer of some woollen substance. She did not think it could actually be wool from an animal but it had that appearance. Next came a thin wooden layer that supported the wool, a gap of three more inches and finally a double thickness of one-inch wood with a half-inch gap between.
The wool must provide the primary insulation to prevent the heat of the furnace reaching the cargo hold that would normally be filled with ice.
Most of the space was occupied by the heating pipes but between them she could see the deck of the hold about ten feet below. The heat coming from the pipes warmed her cheeks. She looked but there were no control valves for these pipes. It seemed Montgomery and Remy had not considered it of sufficient importance since they would be dismounting the system as soon as the journey was complete.
Fanning studied the gap around the pipes. It would be a squeeze and touching the pipes would be very painful. She could hold her hand no closer than an inch before it became too hot. At a guess that would be all the space she had.
There was no need to tie back her hair. Before the experiment her hair had reached all the way down her back, thick and strong. Frank did not like being in a girl’s body; he had insisted she cut it short. She took a deep breath. In this instance going head first would be better so she could see what she was getting into. And on this occasion there was no risk of falling to her death.
Just suffering severe burns and perhaps being murdered by Ketteridge. Or worse, getting turned into fungus food. She reminded herself she already was.
There was the question as to what happened after the paralysis stage. What happened to the victim then? Maybe they just died anyway.
With that comforting thought she lay down by the hole, stretched her hand down into it, tucked her head in and wriggled her way inside.
The heat against the back of her head and shoulders was intense. This was the hardest part as she had to bend her body into the gap. The smell of burning hair hit her nose. There was nothing she could do about it. More of her body came over the edge and the weight on her arm increased.
She brought her other hand round and brushed the back against a pipe. Searing pain shot through her and she bit down on the cry of agony that wanted to explode from her lips.
Keeping her fingers on the wood lining that composed the roof of the cargo hold she let herself drop further. The smell of burning fabric now filled her nostrils, but she had no idea what was touching the pipes.
She descended further and her head popped out into the hold. The noise of the engine room diminished.
The sound of a solid thump reverberated through the hold but the source was behind her head.
“Christ!” muttered Ketteridge. “Stop fighting, you bitch.”
He made the sound of someone having the wind knocked out of them. Fanning twisted her head to see the upside-down image of Ketteridge slamming the captain’s head into the deck. Qi lay on the deck with her hands tied.
This did not stop her from jerking her head free, slamming both fists into Ketteridge’s face and twisting so she could kick him in the thigh with her bound feet. He staggered back, recovered his balance and kicked her in the head. Blood bloomed from her nose.
“We mustn’t be late!” said Qi, then coughed. “We have a cargo to deliver.”
Ketteridge had his back to Fanning.
She let go, deciding a momentary brush against the scorching heat of the pipe would be a small price to pay. She dropped to the deck.
xviii
Now
Fanning’s fall took two agonisingly long seconds under reduced gravity. And for all that time she thought Ketteridge would notice her and turn. But there was no reason why he should. Her fall made no sound.
As the deck approached she stretched out her arms just as she had falling from the door in the engine room. This time there were no obstructions. She absorbed the speed of her fall and bent her arms. She brought her legs down and finished her silent fall on all fours with barely a bump.
Fanning looked up at Ketteridge and the captain. Qi was face up and he had his foot on her neck. She writhed this way and that, but with her hands and feet tied she was unable to escape.
Though he had her pinned he was still able to use his hands and was in the process of opening up the special brass and wood box. The captain’s thrashing weakened and her face was very pale. Paler than usual—Ketteridge was strangling her.
Even if it was possible to survive the initial infection, Fanning knew the second one was fatal. She glanced across at the grey mound that had once been Dr Morbury. Some parts were gaining a greenish hue as if it was maturing.
First things first. Stop the captain from getting infected.
Ketteridge reached into the opened case as Fanning took a short run and flung herself at his head. She had no particular plan in mind, other than stopping him from infecting the captain and getting his foot off her neck.
Fanning slammed into him. He carried a lot more mass than her slim frame, but he was not expecting the attack and she was moving fast. Fanning wrapped her hand round his neck, as she flew into and past him. The sudden addition of her weight and velocity pulled him off balance.
The jar of fungus slipped from his fingers. As she knocked him to the side, across Qi, they both watched the inexorable descent of the glass container. It hit the deck and shattered. Green fungus spread out across the deck, perilously close to the captain’s head. Tendrils, freed from the container, tasted the air.
Ketteridge twisted as they fell together so she was under him as they landed, both of them face up. He jerked his head back and slammed it into her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her.
He pushed himself up on to his knees and turned.
“You!”
She pulled her legs back and slammed her feet between his legs. She must have missed. He fell back and flailed with his arms to keep his balance, but he was not writhing in pain. Fanning was pushed faster in the other direction and ran into something soft.
She screamed and rolled away from the remains of Dr Morbury, frantically brushing at her hair trying to dislodge the sticky remains. She hoped it was not capable of growing tendrils yet. Well, even if it was...the cargo hold seemed to tilt and she staggered. She saw that Ketteridge had not staggered. He had tilted with the ship.
She rubbed her eyes. And giggled. Something inside shouted at her to pull herself together. She focused on Ketteridge with difficulty.
“Having problems?” he asked, his voice booming in her ears. “Come here, Fanning.”
Her left foot moved forwards, she frowned at it. “Stop that, you’re not going anywhere,” she said and the foot moved back under her.
Come on, Liza, wake up.
She looked around
for her brother. He wasn’t there. She shook her head, she lost her balance, staggered back and came up against the door. The captain was going to get the second dose. Fanning had to move, had to get past Ketteridge.
The door, Liza.
She wished he’d stop pestering her. He was always telling her what to do, always wanted his time in charge. It was her goddamn body. He had no right to it.
She felt behind her.
“Come here, Fanning.”
Don’t do it.
“Go to hell,” she said to both of them.
“There’s no hell, Fanning.”
She looked up at Ketteridge. There were two of them; she straightened up her eyes and the two merged into one. He was walking towards her.
“There’s only death.”
He reached out for her.
Fanning gripped the handle of the door behind her, and turned it. Ketteridge put his hand on her shoulder. She brought up her other hand and held his tightly against her. She pushed back, the door opened, and she fell with it, pulling Ketteridge with her.
Her arm twisted awkwardly as she clung to the handle. Ketteridge followed her out and true gravity took hold of them both. Fanning pulled his hand from her shoulder.
“No!” he cried as he fell past her. He tried to grab her and she felt his fingers run the length of her body, catching momentarily on folds of cloth that he could not grasp.
She heard the splash.
Looking down, she noted they were barely twenty feet above the surface of the sea.
Fanning had been ready to breathe a sigh of relief but there was no time. They would hit the water within minutes and that would be the end of everything. So that would be all right.
Goddamn it, Liza Fanning, get your behind in motion. You want to kill your brother?
Fanning shook her head. She hated her brother; she could just let go and fall herself. What would he do about it then?
She did not let go.
She lifted her dangling feet and got them on to the deck, then arched her body until most of it was balanced inside. She pushed against the door and forced herself into the hold.
The captain was moving but Fanning could see a line of tendrils crawling across the floor in her direction. Not waiting to close the door, she launched herself once more across the deck. This time she stopped by the captain’s head and prepared to stomp on the tendrils.
No, Liza, they’ll get you instead.
She took hold of the captain’s bound wrists, yanked her from the ground and sent her flying across the hold towards the stairs. Those tendrils are really quite pretty. She smiled; it would be so nice just to pick them up and put them back in their little pot.
We’re going to crash, Liza.
xix
Now
Fanning staggered away from the fungus with its delicate and tantalising tendrils. She focused on the captain. They had to get the heat back into the balloons so the ship did not crash.
The knots around the captain’s hands were tight and took a great deal of concentration to undo. Qi’s eyes opened as Fanning worked at them.
“Fanning.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“You need to hurry up.”
“Yes, Captain.”
There was a pause as Fanning managed to pull an end of rope through, though it did not seem to help a great deal.
“Mr Ketteridge?”
“Overboard.”
“He was trying to stop me delivering the cargo.”
Fanning paused at the curious comment. Every time Fanning’s mind wandered her nagging brother would yell at her from the back of her mind, keeping her on track.
If the ship goes down the cargo won’t be delivered.
“The ship is going down, Captain.”
“What? Why?”
“Mr Darras shut off the heat.”
“Mutineer!”
“No, Captain, he thought he was doing the right thing.”
She unthreaded another end and the rope came loose. The captain pulled her hands free. She ran her hand across her forehead where her straight black hair was matted with blood.
“Darras is a fool, I’ll tell him.”
“Let me untie your legs.”
The rope binding the captain’s ankles presented less of a challenge and as soon as Fanning was done Qi bounded to her feet. “I’ll be having words with Remy Darras,” she said as she headed up the stairs.
She paused at the top. “Fanning!”
“Captain?”
“Get that door closed and tidy up in here, it’s a mess.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Once Qi was gone Fanning looked around. She desperately wanted to clean up as the captain said. And get the fungus back in its jar where it would be safe. She wanted to touch it.
But her brother would not let her.
Under his instruction she pulled open the remaining boxes, taking care to avoid the creeping horror on the floor. Instead she covered it with straw and bits of wood. She did the same with the makeshift cubicles constructed by Montgomery, disassembling them and piling up the pieces on the remains of Morbury and Lambington.
Then she extracted her matches and set light to it all.
Even in her confused and biased state she was aware that setting a fire inside the ship was not the very best idea. But her brother could see no other solution. They could not toss the fungus into the sea. It might survive. And it was too dangerous to be permitted to remain.
So, in spite of the flames, Fanning stayed with the fire, keeping it under control and ensuring it did not spread. She watched as the fungus dried in the heat, ignited and was consumed until only cinders remained.
As each was destroyed she extinguished the flames by spreading out the burning embers and stamped them into dust. She destroyed it all.
Through the haze of her confused thoughts she noted that they had not landed in the ocean. Her brother kept at her from the back of her mind, forcing her to remain focused on the task, not letting her sleep which she desperately wished to do.
Not until the last of the cargo was cremated, her pretty fungus was no more and the fires were all out. Choosing a corner the furthest from the stairs and the burnt-out embers she curled up and her brother went quiet.
* * * * *
Fanning opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. The ship was not swaying and she was at full weight. The porthole of her cabin was open and the mixed cacophony of a city filtered in, along with a moist heat.
She pulled the sheet from over her and stepped awkwardly down to the deck. She realised she was clean and the clothes that hung over the back of the chair were the same.
Her head was clear but she could remember every detail of the events with Dr Morbury’s cargo. Every single one.
She raised her fingers to her neck where she had been pierced by Ketteridge’s tendrils but could feel nothing. She put on the clothes; the trousers, shirt and waistcoat provided a form of armour she could use against the world.
She was filling her pipe when there was a knock at the door.
Beatrice Cameron came in. She was wearing her smile and carrying a cup of tea.
“I’m glad to see you’re up,” she said. “You were unconscious for so much longer than the rest of us. We were worried.”
“Everyone is all right?” said Fanning, laying aside her pipe and taking the tea. It was strong and slightly sweet, just the way she liked it.
“We are, though embarrassed by the whole affair.”
Fanning shook her head. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, “none of us were in our right minds.”
“Except you,” said Beatrice. “We are all in your debt.”
“Captain going to throw me off for destroying the cargo?”
Beatrice laughed. She had a sweet laugh. “Oh no, the captain knows you saved her life in particular as well as the rest of us.”
Fanning nodded and took another mouthful of tea.
There was a crash from som
ewhere in the ship. Fanning frowned.
“Remy and Terry are removing the heating pipes. And Ichiro is scrubbing the decks with carbolic.”
“No more Venusian plants then?”
Beatrice shook her head. “No, Captain says from now on, just ice.”
.
~ end ~
.
That’s the end of the Frozen Beauty’s adventures for now,
make sure you’ve joined the mailing list to make
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THE ICE PRINCESS:
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Until then, if you enjoyed these books, why not try other stories from the Voidships world such as MURDER OUT OF THE BLUE featuring Maliha Anderson:
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About the Author
When he's not sitting at his computer building websites for national institutions and international companies, Steve Turnbull can be found sitting at his computer building new worlds of steampunk, science fiction and fantasy.
Technically Steve was born a cockney but after five years he was moved out from London to the suburbs where he grew up and he talks posh now. He's been a voracious reader of science fiction and fantasy since his early years, but it was poet Laurie Lee's autobiography "Cider with Rosie" (picked up because he was bored in Maths) that taught him the beauty of language and spurred him into becoming a writer, aged 15. He spent twenty years editing and writing for computer magazines while writing poetry on the side.
Nowadays he writes screenplays (TV and features), prose and code.
Dr Morbury's Cargo Page 7