Table of Contents

Copyright

THE DRACO EYE

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Space: 1889 & Beyond—The Draco Eye

By Sharon Bidwell

Copyright 2014 by Sharon Bidwell

Space: 1889 © & ™ Frank Chadwick 1988, 2014

Cover Design & Art © Tom Webster and

Untreed Reads Publishing, 2014

Cutter rendered by Mateen Greenway ©2014

Space: 1889 & Beyond developed by Andy Frankham-Allen

Based on Space: 1889 created by Frank Chadwick

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

Dark Side of Luna

Conspiracy of Silence

Mundus Cerialis

Leviathans in the Clouds

The Forever Journey

A Fistful of Dust

Horizons of Deceit Book I

Horizons of Deceit Book II

Blinded by Giants

Sphere of Sight

www.untreedreads.com

THE DRACO EYE

By Sharon Bidwell

Prologue

1.

Saturday 31st January, 1891.

THE BRITISH HAD DONE it; finally breached the main asteroid belt with the might that was HMAS Sovereign, their crown aether flagship. It was true that the Russians had beaten them to it, but not by as much as they thought. Improvements to Sovereign meant they were gaining. Commander George Bedford tried to keep his thoughts focused on this, the mission, as a distraction. He did not want to look at Professor Nathaniel Stone.

He and Stone had crossed paths on the way to the meeting, Bedford realising they had fallen into step before Stone seemed to, his head no doubt full of complex designs and ideas for projects that could aid the crew of Sovereign on her mission.

Stone’s step had been light and his stride long owing to him being the tallest man on the ship. Even when he’d finally noticed Bedford and nodded in recognition, his rate of acceleration meant he was the first to reach the conference room. A glance around, a disgruntled humph, and he’d tossed down some papers onto the table, before taking a seat.

Frustrated once again to realise his mind was focused on Stone, Bedford dragged his thoughts to something—anything—that would help him not to dwell on Folkard’s last communication to him, revealing truths he’d rather not know.

In desperation, Bedford cast his mind back some weeks to the re-fit of the ship.

Sovereign was still primarily powered by steam but the boilers were of a new design, constructed of exceptionally strong materials enhanced by metals and minerals discovered during many previous missions and adventures. Doctor Boltzmann, an Austrian physicist who designed the gravitar matrix now used on several naval vessels, had constructed many of the ship’s new systems, as had Professor Thomson and his team, enhancing Sovereign’s power through electricity. The newer, stronger mirrors and solar panels harnessed the power of the sun from greater distances.

This was now the ship of which Bedford was second in command, and she deserved him at his best. Alas, his thoughts drifted back to Nathaniel Stone when he considered that possibly not to be outdone, the professor had suggested a way of adding the new mineral, edwinite, to the water in the boiler. When a certain temperature was reached a chain reaction now increased the steam output.

Did he really believe Stone had invented this method to display his equality of intellect if not superiority? No, of course he didn’t, but he couldn’t help his natural inclinations of belligerence. He could almost hear Annabelle stating he was a commander, but also a man and only human, and humans could not always be generous. Bedford had taken a seat at the head of the table, pretending to go over notes for the meeting to avoid conversation. Now he took a slow, deep calming breath, accepting he required time to…not get over his newfound antipathy…never that, but to learn how to cope with it.

His emotions were just settling when Arnaud Fontaine, head mineralogist, entered. Bedford’s back stiffened and he managed no more than a polite nod at Fontaine’s hello.

“Bonjour, mon ami,” the Frenchman said softly as he took a seat next to Stone.

Stone shot him a sideways look, coughed, and continued reading some papers he had in front of him. Bedford tried not to make much of Fontaine’s searching gaze upon the other man’s face, but for however briefly that look lasted, he couldn’t help take note.

Was there trouble in paradise? The thought neither made him happy nor upset him. He didn’t know what to make of Fontaine. He didn’t really know the man, and now wouldn’t choose to more than duty required. He noted that Fontaine was looking markedly well considering all he’d been through—a fact that had initially left Bedford questioning his inclusion—and Bedford discovered with some pleasure that he was glad of his concern. He didn’t want to think his natural dislike of the relationship he now knew existed between the two men would completely change his feelings towards them. Bedford just wished he could put all that he had learned of the Frenchman’s errant behaviour down to Fontaine having been tortured, but the timing was wrong. He felt some relief though to realise Fontaine’s having suffered still angered him. Had that anger not been present, Bedford would have felt aghast of his own nature. No man, no matter what his crime, deserved such treatment.

He was further relieved to note that he was capable of separating ability from behaviour. He struggled with the concept, but he was capable, and that was an attribute he hoped to improve.

The good of the mission. Stone and Fontaine’s presence were for the good of the mission. Folkard had realised and accepted this simple fact, and Bedford would have to try to do the same.

Despite this resolution he was glad when, a second later, Doctor Robert Beverly, their chief medical officer, entered, footsteps shadowed by Senior Lieutenant Harry Boswell, staff engineer. The two men had obviously been talking, but broke off as they entered. Gruff but friendly best described the doctor, and being that both men were Welsh, they no doubt had a lot to chat about. Bedford allowed them to confer quietly before the meeting’s commencement, while other various heads of department filed in and took available seats.

For the purpose of this gathering the ship’s captain was not needed. Bedford would give him a basic rundown later. He understood the value of the research team in a way the captain of Sovereign didn’t, and he had spent a good amount of time already, and would likely spend much more, convincing the captain it was worth indulging them. Every time their value came into question, Bedford had taken to exclaiming over some new improvement to the ship that was owing to their shenanigans, as he’d occasionally heard their adventures called.

To start, Bedford took a maintenance report from Boatswain Joshua Palmer, and then, among other things, was happy to hear from Doctor Beverly that there were no serious health issues or injuries. To conclude, Staff Engineer Boswell reported that, “The new systems fit right in,” and were performing better than expected.

General business out of the way, Bedford stared around at the assembly. He had no need to remind them that their intention was to reach Planet X, the Drobate’s home world.

Bedford almost began his speech with “gentlemen” but caught his error, frustrated with him needing to remember there was a lady present. While he was now used to seeing women as part of the crew, old habits and all that had a way of lingering. Even for Bedford—a man who had no problem accepting women on board—he lapsed more often than he liked, and among some of the men there was a little resentment. Being married to the former Miss Somerset, he wouldn’t have dared voice such prejudices even had they been a part of his fibre. Fortunately for him and his marriage he had no problem with women serving in scientific or military matters. Katharina Wollf, an Austrian scientist, was on board owing to the British-Austrian alliance over gravitar and its use. As she understood the workings of gravitar and solar power, her help had been invaluable. No-one bothered justifying her presence for understandably political reasons, and something about her declared if she had to she could defend herself. He included her in his opening address of welcome.

Bedford cleared his throat and took a moment to give his next words weight. “We are breaking new records in aether flight, making good time, and we believe owing to improvements, we are fast catching up with Imperator.” His comments were a little leading; though designed to bolster morale, he was sure some of the crew were as tired by such attempts as he was. Mixed expressions of ambivalent emotions passed over the faces of those listening. There had already been losses and betrayal from some of those aboard the Russian Imperator—most notably that of Cyrus Grant; the thought always brought with it a pang of discomfort Bedford reserved entirely for Annabelle, Grant’s niece. While Bedford hoped to have seen the last of such treachery, he expected more loss to come. They all knew to catch up with Imperator would result in battle. “But before then we have the might of Jupiter to confront.”

There was some exchange of glances around the table that he’d anticipated. The decision whether to visit Jupiter had been a matter for discussion and some contention.

He looked at Wollf to take up the exchange of information. Her English was good, fortunately; however, she did have a tendency to talk down to people as if explaining science to children. In some cases, Bedford considered her approach preferable. One of her applied sciences was meteorology.

“There is belief that life began when gravity pulled dust and rock circling the sun together into planets.” There was murmuring from one or two at the table; others shook their heads glancing at Bedford.

“We are not here to argue science versus theology.” Bedford looked at Wollf. “Please continue.”

“The largest planet, Jupiter, prevented some of these pieces—enough of them to form another planet four times larger than Earth—from coming together. The result is the asteroid belt we passed through.” She clasped her hands together, leaning forwards on the table. Her blonde hair was as neat and smooth as her features. “Jupiter has a great magnetic field, much stronger than that of Earth. The pull is immense. Earth is always at risk from meteorite strikes. It is believed that Jupiter’s great attraction prevents many of these celestial fragments from damaging or wiping out life on Earth.” Wollf took a moment. “If Jupiter did not exist, neither would life on Earth.”

This comment produced more disgruntled murmurs. Bedford knew many at the table would argue with her that it was God who chose where life existed and only He had the ability to extinguish it. Where aliens from the depths of space fit into their mind set he could not say. Personally, experience had taught him a need for spirituality and a respect for science. As little as he really understood, science made him see the universe as all the more miraculous regardless of who or what had created it.

Bedford let Wollf continue with the few details they had ascertained or surmised about Jupiter before he broke in to inform them officially of the captain’s decision.

He took a deliberate pause to look around the table and then told everyone they were heading for Jupiter.

2.

THE ENSUING EXCITEMENT SPREAD to almost everyone, although there was one at the table who tempered emotion with logic even while exchanging smiles and congratulations. The decision was an interesting one. Captain Theobald had expressed his doubts in other meetings, while Bedford had always been convinced of the importance of the exploration. Apparently, he had convinced the captain of the same.

Going to Jupiter had to be intentional and although this was the first decision of this type it would unlikely be the last. Although they were following Imperator’s trajectory, and since planets were by their very nature not stationary, neither ship could guarantee coming across planets following a straight line. As the mission was partly one of research no-one should express surprise that the captain had come to this conclusion, but a few murmuring voices did.

“As we are convinced we must be gaining on Imperator the captain is willing to make diversions.”

Bedford’s reply had the silent spectator smiling. The second in command had a way of not saying things that were readily apparent. That Bedford had managed to convince the captain of the importance of exploration was interesting, particularly on such a dangerous place as Jupiter. Perhaps the commander had more influence on board than had first been surmised. A point won for the research team. No wonder so many around the table were smiling.

Still…Jupiter. Although there was no way to know for certain, the emissary of Le Boeuf wasn’t sure even Tereshkov would have made the attempt. Too great a risk to the ultimate goal. So why then were they going? What did they hope to find on Jupiter that would be of such great importance, and who on board believed so?

The only thing Bedford had chosen to reveal was the decision, but the why could prove far more interesting.

Chapter One

1.

Sunday 9th February, 1891.

“JAYSUS, BUT THAT’S BIG.”

Tally dragged his gaze from the porthole and his first sight of Jupiter. The view was…overwhelming.

By his side stood young Sophia Davies, or he should say Ordinary Wren Engineer Sophia Davies, not that he thought there was anything ordinary about her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to such military titles, but “ordinary” definitely did not apply to Chief Boswell’s niece. She was not only part of the new Woman’s Royal Navy Service, she was on Sovereign heading out into the universe beyond the asteroid belt. Tally had a great deal of respect for her and looked forward to moments when they had a chance to talk. Coming up on Jupiter, he’d been…he supposed naughty was as good a word as any, enticing her away from her duties for just a couple of minutes to one of the numerous portholes on the ship.

There she was… Jupiter. Large as life and twice as mysterious. Bit like a woman, really.

Aware he gaped, Tally worked to close his mouth and dragged his gaze to Sophia’s face. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her lips parted in a surprised “o”.

“I’ve never…” she began.

“No.”

“I’ve just never seen…well, anything, not to rival this.”

No-one had. No-one from Earth at any rate, unless those Russian fellows they were chasing had come precisely this way, and even if that were the case surely they’d beaten them by only a few weeks.

“I’ve just never, ever seen… Never imagined…” Sophia seemed to search for a way to express her feelings. “It’s so terrifying yet so beautiful.”

Tally found a need to clear his throat. Definitely like a woman then. He turned back to gaping out of the porthole until he was taken by surprise to find one of his hands clasped in both of Sophia’s.

“Thank you, Mister Cahalleret. Tally,” she added, no doubt remembering he had told her she was to call him that. Her cheeks flushed a little pink and the rest came out in a rush. “Thank you for convincing me to take a look. I’m…so pleased…to have shared this moment with you.” She held on to his hand for a moment longer while Tally struggled to understand what he was feeling, then she let go and turned abruptly. “I must return to my work.”

“Course,” Tally said, but Sophia was already departing, and he headed directly towards the laboratory so as not to spend a moment watching her retreat. His feelings for Sophia were…complicated. He supposed what he was feeling was less than a father and more than a brother. Uncle? He could settle for that.

He steered his thoughts to Jupiter on the way—a safer topic—and was still thinking about what he had seen when he stepped into the lab and his gaze fell on the good doctors. Doctor Arnaud Fontaine was designated head of the geological team on this mission—second only to Nathaniel Stone—with Doctor Marcus Kaplan working under him. Both men were acclaimed in their fields of geology and mineralogy. Tally didn’t doubt their credentials for a moment, but that wasn’t the only thing to admire about the men, especially Arnaud. He’d recovered quite well from the forced exposure of an alien substance upon his person, having been held captive and poisoned with jothrick. He was lucky to be alive and doing better than anyone had expected. Possibly in some part to the good care of Doctor Beverly. Sometimes Arnaud seemed distracted but Tally put that down to his often being otherwise occupied. Tally didn’t share his scientific bent, and… Well, other things about Arnaud made him uneasy. He wanted to blame Arnaud for leading Nate astray—although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the case—but he couldn’t deny Arnaud’s ability, dedication, or pre-occupation with the mission. Even Tally was taken with the incredible things he’d witnessed; things he could well imagine fascinated such learned men as these.

2.

KAPLAN SAT ON ONE side of a large work bench. Fontaine occupied a seat opposite. Numerous instruments and bits of wire were spread out across the table between them. Thanks to gravitar, nothing aboard Sovereign floated, but even so, those in charge would frown to see the state of the laboratory, so he was at first pleased to see their visitor was only Cahalleret. His relief came and went as he regarded the Irishman.

They had all thought they would be nothing more than mere passengers during the journey and had at first bemoaned hours of ensuing boredom. They needn’t have worried. Not much time had passed before Stone had come up with some suggestions that had the research team so fired up that they had given up on many things, including the desire for neatness. Kaplan—one of those who usually craved such a thing—had attempted some inclination towards fastidiousness, but even his efforts had not lasted. Fontaine never had much of a care. A lot of things were fastened down but gradually had attained the atmosphere of organised chaos as the team grew ever more involved in their projects. To stave off the possibility of going stir crazy, even Tally had accepted being something of a run-around for Nathaniel.

Fontaine finally noticed Kaplan was looking at the space behind him and turned his head. Now both of them were staring at Tally, who seemed to realise, and fidgeted under their collective gaze. The man carried no equipment that Kaplan could see. Perhaps he had a message.

“Jaysus, but it’s big.”

This proclamation was certainly unexpected and not for the first time, despite Kaplan’s misgivings, Tally managed to amuse him. This explained in part how they’d developed an easy… He wasn’t entirely certain he’d call it friendship considering the man’s political leanings, but Kaplan was content to call it camaraderie. Considering where they were heading—out to face old adversaries and new mysteries—Tally’s apparent effortless ability to provide some merriment was welcome.

Big? To what did Tally refer? Fontaine asked him first.

“Pardonnez-moi?”

Tally looked at Fontaine. So did Kaplan. Tally glanced back at Kaplan. He seemed…embarrassed?

“Jupiter. She ain’t half big.”

Well, no-one could deny Jupiter was formidable.

“She?” Even Arnaud seemed to dredge up some entertainment from Tally’s declaration.

“Why have you decided Jupiter is female?” Kaplan had to ask.

Tally shrugged. “Dunno, really. Men name ships and such and refer to them as she. Something about…” He turned his gaze towards the wall but not the porthole, as if he couldn’t quite bare to subject his poor Dublin eyes to another sight of their destination. “She’s as daunting as me own ma, I guess.”

Kaplan barked out a laugh alongside Fontaine. He was glad—the laughter eased his mood and his feelings towards both men. Although they’d developed a rapport, Kaplan would be lying to say he welcomed the presence of non-British subjects on board, though he’d rather suffer the Fenian’s presence than that of Fontaine. The untidy workspace was only one reason he mistrusted the Frenchman. His unease was warranted—the stories he’d heard of Fontaine’s previous experiences on Sovereign were more than rumour, and while he understood the need to restrict those who were allowed in the engine room, it struck him as telling that the geologist was excluded from those who were permitted. Considering his long-standing associations, experience of previous missions, knowledge, and connections with certain crew members, Kaplan would not have been surprised if Fontaine was at least allowed in with supervision; instead, Fontaine’s previous exposure to a substance created from jothrick had him banned.

Kaplan’s polite behaviour around Fontaine was borne from compassion—despite his recovery, those on board were aware that Fontaine had been as good as tortured, and it was difficult to pretend otherwise. Professional rivalry kept his sympathy restrained, but although Kaplan wasn’t entirely happy with his emotions, he considered that his reservation could be a good thing. He suspected even Fontaine would have agreed he needed at least a modicum of watching.

Kaplan surmised that skills as well as some of those connections were what enabled Fontaine to be included on the mission at all, and his expertise was something Kaplan could honestly admire about the man, even if he couldn’t help silently, secretly questioning Fontaine’s being here. He remained unconvinced Fontaine should be so high up in the hierarchy of the researchers, but he could admire his ability. He could also be good company.

“Maybe this will steady your nerves.” Arnaud got up, and after a swift and almost comical look around, he reached into a cupboard and produced a bottle of amber liquid and three short straight glasses.

“Cognac?” Tally took a not very wild guess. Everyone knew of Fontaine’s preference.

“French,” Kaplan muttered, unable to resist.

Fontaine eyed him. “From your tone I am unable to ascertain whether you are merely interested or find the idea of anything French distasteful.”

How could he reply to that? Knowing he could not afford the time to search too long for an answer without risking the friendly overtones, Kaplan said, “I must admit that maybe I have not yet decided that myself.”

The remark could have ignited their rivalry, but Kaplan wasn’t entirely surprised to see Fontaine visibly relax. For now at least, they happily shared the same space.

Fontaine had put down the glasses and retaken his seat. He paused in the act of opening the bottle and looked across. “French is the very definition of cognac, oui?”

“Twice distilled, aged in oak. I know the definition.” Kaplan was aware of Tally’s gaze flicking back and forth watching the play between them.

Perhaps misreading the ambiance, and wishing to distil the situation in as refine a way as the alcohol, Tally said, “Them that doesn’t want a drop leave more for them that do.”

There ensued a strange moment of silence during which a small smile hovered over Fontaine’s mouth. Kaplan, experiencing the odd sensation that he was a piece on some giant board game, calculated his next move. He reached for one of the glasses, pushing it closer to Fontaine.

“Many a small war started over another man’s drink,” Kaplan said.

“Sure and that’s true enough.” Tally approached, his broad grin the right dilution for whatever he’d inadvertently started or walked in on—even Kaplan was unsure, but he could imagine Tally’s thinking: Better to weaken a misunderstanding than a drink.

When all three drinks were poured, the men took up their glasses, saluted each other and then tipped their drinks back. When he looked again, Kaplan realised Fontaine was savouring his, Tally had downed his in a single shot, and he… Kaplan glanced down at the glass accepting he had polished off half, which was quite a considerable swallow for him. He must have needed a drink. Fontaine looked at him and topped up his glass without a word. Then he poured another for Tally

“Tis me nerves.” Tally chuckled, though Kaplan was pleased when the Irishman took care to be more conservative with the second measure.

“What do you think?”

It took Kaplan a moment to realise Fontaine was seriously asking his opinion.

The beverage was sharp at first, and then mellowed out. He took more time tasting it. “Fruity, hint of spice, vanilla and I could be mistaken but I would say—”

“Apricots,” Tally interrupted. “Tis no Guinness, but I’d not turn down a drop or two.”

This wasn’t the first drink either man had shared with Fontaine and Tally likely hoped it would not be the last.

“Can’t say as I’ve had this type before. This…” Tally looked questioningly at Fontaine. “This brand? Blend?” When Fontaine shook his head, Tally added, “Surprised me own self to have noticed the difference.”

Maybe he was at risk of getting quite a fancy palate for a hard-working Irishman. Kaplan had the thought but didn’t say it. Alas, he stupidly opened his mouth and said, “No ideas about becoming one of the gentry?” He wanted to take those words back the moment they were out. Tally eyed him, gaze narrowing enough to make Kaplan feel uncomfortable as well as sorry.

“Not I.” Tally gestured as if tipping an imaginary cap. “Suspicious lot for the most part, though tis pleasing to find exceptions.”

Lost for words and not wishing to say anything else that would emerge sounding wrong, Kaplan smiled and nodded.

“What I wouldn’t give for a proper brandy glass,” Fontaine said on a sigh. “Another?”

Tally hadn’t quite finished what was in the glass, but there remained only a swallow or two. Would he indulge?

“Not for me,” Kaplan said, and then had the sneaking suspicion his refusal more than any other reason had Tally saying, “Don’t mind if I do.” This time Tally chinked his glass with Fontaine’s.

“So, we make…” Tally appeared to search for a phrase, made a strange waggling gesture with his fingers “out there” towards Jupiter. “Reaching the planet. We arrive in a few hours?”

Kaplan directed at glance at Fontaine, which the other man returned. Tally’s darting look between them said the Irishman didn’t like the idea of whatever they were about to tell him.

“Nothing to panic over,” Marcus explained. “But I’m sorry to tell you, it’ll be the rest of this day and a bit yet.”

“This day and a…” Tally broke off, shook his head. “I’m no scientist but even I can grasp the speeds we’re travelling. I thought we’d a push to our…our backsides. To be sure the short hop left can’t be taking us so long?”

Ah yes, those speeds. The new boiler design and enhanced construction—in large thanks to newfound minerals and metals used in conjunction with the solar panels now amplified by edwinite—had given them the push of which Tally spoke so eloquently. Then there was the matter of one gigantic planet sitting out there so large and looming so he could understand Tally failing to understand they were not as close as appearances would have many believe. He looked at Tally who was gazing at the hull as if he could see through it, and hence to Jupiter beyond.

“Seems like I can almost touch her…it, I means to say.”

Kaplan smiled. “Jupiter is vast. You are assuming we are closer than we are by the view, but by the time we arrive, Jupiter is going to look a whole lot bigger. She, as you like to call Jupiter, could hold more than one-thousand and three-hundred of our Earths.”

Tally’s jaw dropped, before he blinked, and rearranged his expression. “Ma would be gobsmacked to see me lost for words.” Then he brought the conversation full circle. “Jaysus.”

3.

“PRO…PROFESSOR, SIR?”

“Hmm?” Someone calling his name did not at first register. In a hurry to be back to his work, Nathaniel had taken several steps along the corridor before he looked back. He blinked twice before fully accepting that Erasmus Stevenson had waylaid him. Their first meeting on the ship still shone brightly in his mind. The able seaman had at first turned so pale Nathaniel had thought the man would faint, before becoming a shade of red so deep Nathaniel did not think there was a name for it. He hadn’t been sure whether the flush had been from embarrassment or anger.

Later Nathaniel had realised the truth and shared a few polite but choice words with Bedford. Nathaniel wasn’t the only one to question Bedford’s request for Erasmus’s transfer, even though he understood it. Erasmus was one of those who had shown some telepathic ability in connection with the Heart on Luna and his presence could be useful. Still…the poor man had hardly had sufficient time to convalesce from those harrowing…adventures—if one could refer to torture by the Drobates as such—before finding himself sequestered back on board Sovereign where they had first met.

Bedford’s rationale carried a risk—there was no way to know if Erasmus would suffer a relapse at an inopportune moment. Nevertheless, Nathaniel understood his reasoning. What Nathaniel could not fathom was the general failure to inform a portion of the crew that he was not dead. Arguments concerning procedure and what an officer would and would not choose to share with a member of the crew were all well and good, but no wonder Erasmus had looked like he’d seen a proverbial ghost. Erasmus wasn’t the only one to have been fooled by the cover story that had assigned Nathaniel to an early grave, but there were personal reasons why he had probably taken it so hard; those were things Nathaniel could not share with Bedford and so he’d had no choice but to let the subject lie at rest.

“I…I’m sorry, Professor…sir.” Erasmus’s expression turned sheepish. “I mean…Nathaniel.” He said the other man’s name as if testing the sound of it on his tongue with some hope. “I owe you an apology. That…last time you saw me…off ship, I mean…”

“I quite recall.” Nathaniel took great pains to keep his voice low and gentle.

The last time he’d seen Erasmus on Earth, Nathaniel had been on the receiving end of a closed door in the face. Nathaniel recalled the delight of seeing Erasmus and the disappointment of what, at the time, he could only call rejection. Since they had rediscovered each other aboard Sovereign, owing to what the man had been through, Nathaniel had left him in peace. He’d left it to Erasmus to come speak to him, but had received nothing aside from a few stuttering attempts of… Nathaniel was not sure what. Avoidance? Or reconciliation? Maybe even Erasmus didn’t know, so Nathaniel had tried to show him nothing but respect.

“That’s not the way I wanted to leave things between us. I wasn’t myself you could say.”

Nathaniel nodded.

“I was shocked to see you. I had heard…” He seemed unable to finish the sentence.

“I am aware of what you heard. That I had been labelled a traitor.”

A lighter flush infused Erasmus’s face. “I’m sorry I ever thought so. I didn’t want to believe such a thing of you, but the evidence… Of course, all fabricated?”

Nathaniel caught the question on the end there despite Erasmus saying he did not now believe the stories. “Most definitely, and with good reason.”

Erasmus’s shoulders sagged in what appeared to be relief and only then did Nathaniel realise how tense the other man had been while talking to him. “I’m glad to know the truth of that.”

Nathaniel had given him no particulars; he couldn’t help feeling some pleasure in knowing Erasmus took him at his word. “Don’t blame yourself. You had reason to believe false claims.”

Erasmus shook his head. “I never should have.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not even convinced that I did believe the stories entirely. I had no choice. Orders.” Erasmus gave what Nathaniel could only interpret as a helpless shrug.

Many a man had done great ills in following orders, but Erasmus Stevenson was not one of them. This was his chance to start anew, and Nathaniel had no reason to be a hindrance.

“I would have expected nothing less. You thought me a traitor and behaved accordingly. I am only sorry that such tales must have added to your woe. You had a lot from which to recover, and the confusion you must have felt over my suspected treason could not have helped. For that I apologise. Please,” Nathaniel added, raising a hand to forestall Erasmus when it looked as though he would protest. “Maybe we both have reason to apologise to the other, so let us leave it as a case of mutual forgiveness. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I’m sorry I have not had an occasion to say so before.”

“Thank you. I…appreciate the opportunity.” The uncertainty of his words seemed to belie that.

“And you are now well?” Nathaniel knew he wasn’t, entirely, but it was prudent for him to ask. How much would Erasmus confess?

“I… Yes, thank you. For the most part.” His gaze darted a little. Nathaniel imagined the mind behind those eyes was swiftly calculating. “I won’t pretend every day is easy. I…dream occasionally, and remember in my dreams the things that have happened to me. Many bad but some good.” Another uncharacteristic flush flared in Erasmus’s face revealing his emotional state. “But I am doing well. Unbeknownst to me some things took longer to affect me than others. Later…I had to learn…how to accept all that I had been through. And other things…about myself.”

An awkward and somewhat shy smile followed, but if Nathaniel wasn’t mistaken there was perhaps a touch of reserved expectation. Erasmus held some of his feelings in check. Interesting.

Nathaniel was sure there was more Erasmus wanted to say so he smiled encouragingly.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, I’ve missed…working with you. I hope I can be of assistance on this mission. I hope I can be of personal help…to you.”

Nathaniel considered the suggestion. “I am sure you will make yourself invaluable.”

Erasmus’s answering smile was quite delightful and something Nathaniel was sure he could make use of. Both men lingered for a moment, but if there was more to pass between them now was apparently not the time. With a nod, Nathaniel continued on his way, drawing up short as he rounded a corner and came face to face with Ordinary Seaman Jack Fenn.

If Erasmus had things to recover from emotionally so did Fenn.

Nathaniel looked for, and saw, the guilt Fenn carried with him over past actions, but for the first time since Fenn had returned to Sovereign there was perhaps a spark of the man Nathaniel had met during his first sojourn of the ship.

Fenn looked back the way from which Nathaniel had emerged. “Too much of the boy in that one. Has a lot of growing up to do…if you don’t mind my saying, sir.”

As Fenn was a year younger than Stevenson, the remark had to be one of irony.

“And if I do mind?” Nathaniel did not bother addressing him by title or name. He took some pleasure in now seeing a flush of colour in the seaman’s face.

“I’m sure that would be your prerogative, sir. And Stevenson is none of my business.”

“Quite.” Nathaniel stepped around him, continued some paces, stopped and looked back. “Fenn?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I may need an engineer on our missions. Fancy getting off the ship?”

“Me, sir?”

“Perhaps. If the situation calls for it. If I can pass the requirement with the captain.”

“I…” Fenn managed to look at once delighted and petrified. Then he straightened his spine and grinned. “That would be a welcome change. Thanks, Prof.”

Nathaniel nodded, smiled, and said, “I’ll see what I can do…Jack,” before carrying on his way. He’d have a word with Bedford, initially. There might well be a requirement for an engineer, and it was always a good thing to give people sweeteners. If Fenn enjoyed his time off ship maybe Nathaniel could make it a regular occurrence. If he didn’t, he’d say he had no use for him or he was not up to the task. Either way, Fenn would be grateful.

4.

“HOW GOES IT THERE?”

Kaplan screwed up his face at Nathaniel’s question. “I’ve told you, this is not normally my area of expertise.”

“And I’ve told you it is no matter. You are passing well.” In the absence of a true assistant Nathaniel had called upon many men including Marcus Kaplan to acquire new skills in a number of matters. He was quick to learn and Nathaniel could not only make use of that, he was appreciative of the man’s efforts. Which wasn’t to say that he would trust him without checking his work. “Let me take a look at your progress.”

Kaplan stepped back from the apparatus he was tinkering with, allowing Nathaniel access to a cylindrical shape of approximately one foot in length.

Early diving gear had been invented in the 1700s, although more rudimentary breathing devices had been around for far longer. Many speculated there was some type of liquid on Jupiter, but in any case they were entering what they were sure, from rock samples they’d found on Earth and also collected while in the aether, was a hostile environment. The closer they came to Jupiter, the more certain they were that they were entering a terrain like nothing previously experienced. If there was indeed a poisonous atmosphere, something as basic as a hollow reed would not suffice. Their atmosphere suits would be required for some of the expedition, but what the research team would need was something more manageable, portable, and light. Even if it proved ineffectual in this instance—although Nathaniel was convinced that would not be the case—everyone had seen the advantage of working on the project. Even those who expressed doubts had given in to avoid idle hands.

It was not lost on Nathaniel that British engineers and English inventors were responsible for the respiration devices for divers. The breathing apparatus of their atmosphere suits was more complex. Low pressure meant they could not use normal air so a mix of oxygen and other gases, mostly nitrogen, had to be used. What Nathaniel was attempting to do—to make a device that would constantly recirculate the air a man breathed on another world—would have been impossible were it not for the edwinite. As crazy as it sounded, the mineral seemed to adapt to almost anything he required of it. What they needed most right now was some way to breathe on Jupiter that would allow them freedom from a full atmosphere suit.

During the time spent making the journey to Jupiter, Nathaniel had worked hard on perfecting the device, using the research team and anyone remotely capable of performing a required task to see about the production of the units. He had endured mutterings and even hostility as well as—when matters improved—an occasional lapse in production for a handshake or pat on the back: once the engineers had got over laughing at him, when they realised his invention might actually work. What he was unable to tell them was that only half the science was his innovation. The rest was part intuition and for all he knew, dumb luck. The final missing link had been provided by information he’d gained from Kaskuu—the Heart on Luna. He knew not why exactly, but the ideas came to him so fully formed, he was often on the verge of believing his own genius. However, he knew better. Not all, but some of the knowledge he required had been fed to him, although he could not remember precisely how, or when. At times he was grateful for it; others, he almost resented it. They were being used and Nathaniel did not appreciate the role of puppet. That was, the “man” did not; the scientific mind at the heart of his being was more forgiving.

“Are you all right, Professor?”

Marcus Kaplan seemed to be studying him in the same way Nathaniel saw him look on occasion at Arnaud, and he didn’t like it. That look, if he was not failing to interpret it, was too searching. Kaplan at times seemed as confused with his own presence on the ship as he was others, and questioning, always questioning. Kaplan gazed at him as if he didn’t entirely trust him, didn’t entirely believe everything Nathaniel told him…which made the man entirely too astute. Not his fault, but this attribute could be helpful or an impediment, depending on the uses Nathaniel had for him. Potential problems arising from Kaplan’s shrewdness did not detract from his proficiency. Nathaniel returned his attention to the apparatus in front of him.

“I’m excellent.” Shame Nathaniel could not say the same of the breathing unit, although his judgement had nothing to do with Kaplan’s work.

The contraption was both elegant and crude, although that hardly seemed possible. Undoubtedly the device had an industrial look, but unlike larger examples would not require three separate components and so in comparison appeared stylish. Typically, such apparatus would need a high-pressure tank, a pressure regulator, and an inhalation connection such as a mask. Nathaniel had essentially miniaturised all three elements. A mouthpiece or small over-the-nose-and-mouth mask could now do the job of the helmet on their atmosphere suits. Of course the suit did other things that the breathing unit could not do, but if his theories and the information he’d learned from Kaskuu was correct, even Jupiter had some type of hollow core. Within such confines they would be somewhat protected but such was Jupiter that for the first time they would need help breathing for the whole of the duration.

In theory, as the wearer exhaled, compressed air from the lungs would move up the exhalation tube and the pressure differential would drive the direct replacement pump. The same amount of fresh air would then be pumped back via an air bladder. Because the system was powered by the breath, it required no power unit, only a small amount of compressed air. The thought process behind the design was that a small amount of air would last for hours because of the on-demand system. The other difference was the filtration unit.

The tank was now a small cylinder—still one foot long and fairly weighty but considerably smaller and lighter than a full tank. The air recirculated but also filtered surrounding supplies of the aether making that which would usually be toxic breathable. Or that was the theory. He had only a vague recollection of Kaskuu’s assurance.

Even Nathaniel had doubts.

“You are happy?” The question came from Orlondo Quintana. So involved with the inspection had Nathaniel been, he’d quite failed to notice the arrival of the palaeontologist. Tally and Arnaud trailed in his wake. The men had likely taken a much-needed though quick break to refuel in the mess. His own stomach was on the verge of complaining.

“Si. I mean, yes.” Nathaniel was surprised to find a smile on his face as Kaplan and Tally laughed over his answering Orlondo in his native tongue. Arnaud only smiled. “But for the purpose of caution, perhaps two cylinders per device so the wearer can switch to the other if one fails?”

“Sensible, though it will add weight.”

“Better weight than a man be gasping for breath,” Tally interjected.

There was no arguing with that, although the Irishman managed to sound doubtful that the apparatus would work at all.

“Quite,” Nathaniel agreed. “In addition it means a man can carry twice the amount of air supply directly on his person.” Although he planned to take spare cylinders along, it couldn’t hurt for each man to carry as much breathing gear as he was comfortably able. Nathaniel could hardly tell them that he too shared their concerns. How could something so small replace the need for the far larger equipment they were used to? Was he really going to risk all their lives on the success of this piece of metal, with its experimental regulators and revolutionary filters?

Arnaud had paled when Nathaniel had explained his thinking behind the filter, which employed small particles of edwinite. Even now Arnaud eyed the unit wearily and Nathaniel knew he would have to spare some time to talk to him. He could not afford Arnaud to fall apart on him now, or for the man to voice his fears and possibly go about upsetting others. The men had to trust this device. Many breathing apparatuses provided oxygen through chemical reaction. Nathaniel was using edwinite to aid this purpose as well as filtration—a detail Arnaud Fontaine was exceedingly unhappy with. He understood Arnaud’s concern, but the final decision as to whether these were likely to work rested with him.

“This is good,” Nathaniel declared.

“It is?” Kaplan sounded surprised.

“My design. Your dexterity.”

Kaplan looked at his hands. “Hardly what my father would have imagined me doing but you’re not wrong. Quintana helped, of course. I guess understandably.”

Understandably, perhaps, though in Orlondo Quintana’s case, surprising. A palaeontologist often required steady hands, but Nathaniel wouldn’t have considered roping Orlondo into assisting in this particular exercise as the man’s own excitability often got the better of him. Plus, he had chubby fingers. Bedford had agreed the need for engineers to do the wielding and building, but some of the more delicate internal workings required a more nimble touch. Nathaniel and Kaplan had spent many hours during their journey perfecting this device, and when Nathaniel was unavailable, Kaplan had roped in Orlondo. Nathaniel had needed Arnaud to oversee another task, although by the expression on his face, it was quite possible that the doctor was happy to be excluded in most of this device’s construction.

“You honestly think this will work, old chap?”

Nathaniel gave Kaplan’s question serious thought. If their speculation proved accurate, breathing on Jupiter would be as much of an issue for him as anyone and he was not about to take risks that had no chance of success. “It will.” He took a deep breath. Kaskuu would not guide him wrong. He was staking their lives on it.

“Does not solve the problem of there being no land.” Orlondo’s voice broke in on his musings.

Nathaniel looked up. “We have been over this before.”

“Si, si, and we will go over it again. Jupiter has…”

“No well-defined solid surface. Yes, I know what all the…”

“Are you going to argue with the world’s greatest scientific minds?” Orlondo stared directly at him as if daring him to say so. “You are saying you know better, si?”

Nathaniel opened his mouth to say that, yes, he was. He did know better. He presumed Kaskuu had assured him of such, because he simply knew. He could not say so without giving such facts away, or appearing arrogant.

“I do not know the answer, of course. I have…faith. I must have,” he continued before Orlondo could question the statement. “A surface not well-defined does not mean there is no surface, and we have proven many worlds to be hollow.”

“Si. But we are setting foot into areas of the aether no man has ever ventured before. The same rules may not apply as those on the inner planets.”

“Which is the very reason for exploration,” Kaplan said, with a shrug. “There is no turning back.”

Oddly, although only stating fact, Kaplan’s support surprised him. His pleasure swiftly dissipated owing to the annoying fact the man should even have to. For an instant Nathaniel experienced what he could only describe as burning rage before it cooled almost immediately to irritation. He suffered such moments on occasion now—brief times when his emotions rose to the fore and seemed intense and out of proportion. At least Kaplan’s remark had Orlondo nodding.

“You are right, of course, Señor, and I can think of nowhere I would rather be. I cannot help urging caution. It is perhaps my age.”

The urge to laugh came upon Nathaniel almost as suddenly as his anger had done. They had travelled all the distances between the inner planets and were now heading farther out. Who was Orlondo to talk of age when in the presence of such worlds as these? This man who had discovered evidence of Drobates on the ruins of Vulcan and Phobos—creatures from beyond anything he could comprehend—to talk of age and caution was almost an affront.

“Caution?” Kaplan smiled. “So sayeth the man who almost upset Geronimo.”

Kaplan referred back to an incident in Arizona when Orlondo had gone to examine relics found in what the Apache’s considered to be a sacred cave.

“It was an incredible moment of excitement.” Orlondo managed to look both abashed, and dreamy. “I did well with the matter of diplomacy.”

That he had. Rather than completely risk the wrath of Geronimo, he’d had to settle for taking daguerreotypes of the relics, which included what he had been sure was an aberration in the Drobate skull. He had been right, his findings confirming the mental corruptive potential of jothrick.

Vulcan, Phobos, even on Earth, Orlondo seemed to have an affinity for finding Drobate remains or making some new discovery about them.

Nathaniel hadn’t decided who would go with him on the excursion, but in that moment, he became determined to include Orlondo as one of the researchers going down to Jupiter.

5.

WHAT THE OFFICERS DIDN’T see, the enlisted men got away with. Sovereign was staffed with the best of the best, the elite of the British fleet, but the ship carried those on board on a mission that was going to last. The officers knew the crew had to find ways to let off a little steam, and as long as they saw no evidence of it, nothing would be said. Sometimes even when officers noticed, depending on the severity of the infringement, the good ones pretended not to. Making a little homemade brew or playing a card game or two, even having a knockabout, these things were left unquestioned as long as they were undertaken quietly and no crew member turned up to their station inebriated or injured.

Speaking of steam, Jack Fenn was making his way to a quiet little spot down in the engine room hidden by an area surrounded in an enveloping and concealing blanket of steam, to partake of a little fermentation while trying for a few high ranks of cards of the same suit or consecutive series, when he heard a noise behind him. Ducking between two banks of machinery he hankered down and looked back through a gap in the pipework. He could see little but a pair of boots moving along the walkway.

He jumped up to confront the stalker, forming an excuse as to his reason for being here. While it wasn’t odd that he should be in the engine room, he was off duty. With luck whoever had followed him wouldn’t know that, and he could throw technical jargon at them better than some of the scientists if necessary.

When Katharina Wollf rounded the corner his flabber was well and truly gasted. Where she failed to jump, Jack jerked back in surprise. She was the only female scientist on board, and Jack had no doubts as to her intelligence, even if her brains weren’t the most striking thing about her.

Wollf was tall, and as broad in the shoulders as he, and her stare could make a man’s spine contract as he cowered under her gaze. The inclusion of women aboard ship had met a mixed reaction among the men, and while for the most part, Jack was all for it, Wollf was one woman he wasn’t so sure should be here. He feared she rather lived up to her name, and he hadn’t yet decided whether that was a good thing.

“The engine room isn’t the place for you, Miss.” Jack said the first words that popped into his head and then wished he hadn’t.

Her head tilted to one side as if she studied an interesting specimen. “Would you be saying that if I were one of the male scientists?”

“I… No. Yes. You’re not one of those assigned here.” Two scientists were now required in the engine room at all times, and although Wollf wasn’t one of them, clearly she saw herself as equal to any who were permitted. However, access to the engine room was restricted for very good reasons, particularly the threat of sabotage. “How did you get in here?”

“If I were to say it was a simple smile at the wrong…or right man…?”

She left the question open-ended but Fenn had no problems answering. “Give me that man’s name and it’ll be the last time he ever smiles at anyone.”

One of her eyebrows lifted, as she gave him a small jerk, sort of a half-nod with her head. Fenn couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion he had just won her approval in some way.

“Good thing for that man he does not exist. I gained entry by other means, which I’m happy to share with you so you can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her. Should he trust her? He wanted to, but couldn’t. Damn shame to get such a fine lady in trouble, but he couldn’t ignore her presence here.

“I’ll go with you to the captain or whoever you feel you need to report my being here. Of course…you’re not here on duty, are you?”

He wasn’t but she shouldn’t know that. “Can I help you in some way?” She still hadn’t explained why she had entered the engine room at all.

She looked him up and down. “I thought I would join you for the evening.”

“Join…” Jack could feel fingers of heat crawling under his scalp. Did she mean…? No. He might be up to no good but he wasn’t about to cross the line and fraternise—if caught that would kill his career and was socially and morally wrong, besides. Also, he wasn’t sure he’d be petrified rather than excited, so it was just as well she couldn’t be interested in him. That just wasn’t done in polite society. Unless Austria had far more liberal views when it came to women, which he doubted, Wollf had to be talking about something far more innocent than where his mind had wandered.

He almost flinched back when she reached towards him, but a hiss of steam reminded him in time of the many hot surfaces down here. He held still while one of her hands disappeared into one of his pockets, the action bringing her close so that for a few seconds Jack was so taken up with how nice she smelled, he quite forgot why there was an odd feeling in his breeches.

Wollf rummaged around and then withdrew her hand, now holding a deck of cards. Did she mean she wanted to join him and the men for a game?

“Erm…we…” Jack didn’t know quite what to make of this. What did women play these days if they played cards at all? How could he explain that the game the men played came from Louisiana where gambling was a form of past-time?

“Five-card draw, or stud?” Wollf asked him.

Jack blinked at her. Without awaiting a reply she took the deck and sauntered down the way he’d been originally headed. Jack stood frozen to the spot in one of the warmest parts of the ship not knowing what to make of Wollf, wondering what the other men were going to say when she turned up with him, at the same time not knowing how to refuse her.

At the end of the gangway she turned with the deck in her hands. She shuffled, split the deck in two, ruffled the cards together with a flicking motion so they produced a rrrrrrttttttpppp sound, split them again and formed two fans, which she managed to work back together into one pack as if by magic. She turned away and continued on, quite clearly knowing where she was headed. Jack fell into step aware that he was following her like an awestruck puppy.

6.

ARNAUD THOUGHT OF KNOCKING but in the end just tried the door to Nathaniel’s room. He stopped, hands poised on the barrier. He could hear humming. He didn’t recognise the tune, but it made him think of the planet they were fast approaching. The rhythm was full of pomp and ceremony, containing a level of jollity quite out of sorts with the task facing them.

He was so lost to Nathaniel’s harmonies that he couldn’t say for how long he stood there, but when the man came to a softer segment of the tune, Arnaud returned to reality. The warmer tone of Nathaniel’s voice filled him with emotions too overwhelmingly distressing, making his being both bloom and wither. Things had not been…right between them for the duration of the voyage. When he’d first been conscripted for the mission, as ill as he was, he’d felt a hopeful sort of joy at the thought of seeing Nathaniel again. Unfortunately, there was no reason for the two of them to share a room let alone a bunk as they had done on Esmeralda 2, and Nathaniel had not instigated anything remotely resembling their old relationship. Of course, the opportunities to be alone were few, but whenever Arnaud tried to capture Nathaniel’s gaze…the moments he succeeded were worse than when he failed, for his toujours would stare at him briefly before tearing his gaze away.

“Enough, Arnaud. Enough.” Taking what remained of his courage, and perhaps self-respect, in hand, Arnaud pushed open the door, stepped inside, and then leaned back against the barrier. A moment passed before Nathaniel noticed him, but when he did, the humming ceased, and Nathaniel looked him over with a casual glance that expressed nothing short of indifference. He turned back to his task, making adjustments to a diagram with which he was tinkering; no doubt more modifications to the breathing assembly.

Arnaud quite forgot what he had intended to say owing to the fact of being ignored. “I…” He fumbled in his pocket, failing at first to find the opening. Even his fingers knew better than to want to touch the filter the others had helped design under Nathaniel’s guidance. “I was passing so volunteered to bring you the new filter. It is fini. Accompli.”

That more than his presence gained him Nathaniel’s attention.

Nathaniel looked up, straightening his spine, turning his head to stare at Arnaud. “No problems?”

“Non.”

“Then bring it over here, man.”

Hardly a warm invitation but the most charming he’d received since he’d set out on this mission. Arnaud crossed the room and placed a circular device small enough to hold in the clawed fingers of one hand in front of Nathaniel. The other man at once lined it up with the blueprints before him. A glance revealed to Arnaud where it would fit.

Silence reigned and he had the sense to know he was as good as dismissed. He had to ask…about many things.

“How do you know this will filter the atmosphere of Jupiter? How do you know that using it in a filter will not harm the men breathing through it?” That was what he feared. Although this was not technically aleksandrite—or jothrick as it was now officially called—and thus not what had been administered to him, it was still composed in part of jothrick, and what if small particles could somehow find their way into a man’s lungs? What if just breathing through it could contaminate and harm the user?

Nathaniel stopped moving, stopped breathing for all Arnaud could see.

“Edwinite has many useful properties, mon toujours, but this?” He reached out, then let his hand fall away a mere inch from touching Nathaniel’s hair. “Where are you getting these…?” He searched for the word. “Fou. Mad. Crazy ideas?”

“Crazy?” Nathaniel seemed amused.

“Oui. Non. I…” Arnaud ran a hand through his hair to the back of his neck rubbing at an area there that seemed to bother him. He was too tense these days. “I am unsure what I am trying to say. Mon toujours—”

“Stop using that phrase.”

Arnaud was aware of his brow creasing in puzzlement. When realisation dawned, acid rose up his oesophagus to bite at the back of his throat. “Nathaniel, what have I done to warrant your coldness towards me?” He suffered enough guilt over his actions even though they had not been his fault. He had not expected this treatment from Nathaniel. The man had insisted he be part of this mission, yet had shunned him in all things that did not require his expertise or some form of technical participation for the weeks it had taken them to journey here.

“I am not…” Nathaniel’s words petered out. His expression turned pensive and then, as if he had found something within himself that had been too long absent, his expression changed. “I do not…mean to be. There is just much more going on here than pertains to us.”

Nathaniel chose that moment to stand and where once Arnaud would not have been intimidated by the other man’s height, he took a step back.

“We are in the depths of the aether, going further than we ever thought possible. The next link in the chain… Arnaud, trust me, I am sure it is here. As to us…we cannot risk…” He shook his head. “What you say in private you may let slip in public.”

“Then let us not say such things with words.” Arnaud made to move forwards but the way Nathaniel drew back brought his movements to a halt.

“Not now. Not until…” Nathaniel shook his head as if to say he knew not when. “Concentrate on helping me accomplish the tasks ahead of us. You are going to help me…”

You are going to help me…destroy…

A stranger’s voice interceded, blotting out whatever it was Nathaniel said, so that Arnaud didn’t hear a word of the rest. He blinked, and swayed. The recollection, if that was what it was, faded.

“Are you all right?”

The question coming from Nathaniel almost set Arnaud laughing. Was he all right? He wanted to snap out that, non, he very much was the opposite of all right. He’d been injected with an alien substance by that mad woman, Moonsinge. Then while under the influence he’d committed acts that could only be classed as treasonous no matter which country his heart held loyalty to. Even worse, his actions had led to the deaths of some very good men. So he very much wanted to say non. He was not at all “right” and Nathaniel’s lack of consideration and compassion was no help to him at all.

Nathaniel has betrayed you…

Arnaud shook off the insidious whisper that seemed to echo and bounce around within his skull. “A little dizzy is all,” he said, as Nathaniel took his arm and helped him to a chair. No sooner than he sat did he shrug off Nathaniel’s touch. So who was acting out of character now? Arnaud felt a wild cackle bubbling up and swallowed it down. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, allowed Nathaniel to fetch and help him drink some water.

“Perhaps you should see Doctor Beverly?”

“Perhaps I should.” He wasn’t going to mention hearing strange voices in his head, though. “Should I tell him that working too closely with your edwinite is not good for my nerves?”

He almost expected Nathaniel to tut. Instead, he sighed. “I am sorry things cannot be the way they were…for now. Despite what you think, Arnaud, I do not want to bicker with you. This,” Nathaniel indicated the filtration system, “is simply bigger than our personal needs.”

Arnaud nodded and, refusing aid, rose to his feet and made his way over to the door. He couldn’t help how he felt. He appreciated what edwinite could do, but he was beginning to think he’d had enough of working with minerals. Especially the sort that could be injected into a person to control them and drive them out of their minds.

“Does that ever stop?” Arnaud asked, pausing at the threshold. He waited until Nathaniel looked over. “It just seems unfair. That the fate of the universe might rest upon one motley crew. Must we always put the needs of the many before our own? Will you always put others first?”

Without waiting for an answer, Arnaud turned to leave the room.

“Arnaud,” Nathaniel called out.

Arnaud paused waiting to hear one kind word.

“How far along are you with the portable transceivers? We have only a few hours left before they will be needed.”

“As is everything needed sooner rather than later,” Arnaud muttered. He walked out without supplying the answer.

Chapter Two

1.

“SAINTS PRESERVE US.”

Tally’s entreaty lacked the usual twang of accent as the words whispered softly out of his mouth. Nathaniel spared him a glance. Although his attention was rather more taken with that which had caused the other man’s appeal, something about the way Tally spoke called to him. This was hardly the time for amusement, but nevertheless Nathaniel experienced a twinge of glee upon hearing what sounded very like a prayer. Of course, Tally had been making many such heavenly petitions since yesterday when he’d come to realise just how big Jupiter was.

No-one noticed Nathaniel’s glance at Tally. He doubted any had heard him. None took their gaze from the viewing port. All were as awestruck by Jupiter as the Irishman.

Nathaniel had read references to King of the Planets and Destroyer of Comets. Hard not to feel humble upon realising that the gas giant lived up to its reputation. Easy to understand those not strictly required, and even risking discipline from the ship’s captain, stealing a look through any porthole within reach.

“Man your stations,” the captain ordered over the recently installed telephonic pipe, no doubt aware of the same. Despite the stern tone of his command… Well, maybe Nathaniel was a little mistaken, but he was sure he could hear a touch of empathy. Only the strongest of countenances could avoid the temptation to witness such a sight.

Massive. So vast that the closer they drew to it, the more it blanked out their view of the aether itself.

Striations of dark and light captured Nathaniel’s attention. These white-blue atmospheric bands were, as Miss Wollf had told him, termed zones and were a sign of what she referred to as upwelling—a rising movement of some type of liquid. Downward movement she had called downwelling, but despite his interest Nathaniel was less concerned with the official terms for the interspersing brown belts of fluid than what Jupiter’s upper atmosphere concealed. To the lower right a black “beauty spot” could be seen, which Nathaniel knew to be one of the known moons of Jupiter: Europa. Further along the same path to the right, a swirling reddish turbulence spinning counter-clockwise drew his gaze.

“What in the seven levels of hell is that?” Tally actually scratched his head as though in puzzlement.

“We believe it to be a hurricane.” Captain Theobald sounded unmoved by the awe-inspiring sight, attention riveted to the instruments.

“Hurricane?” Tally gaped. “Corks. Sure and I’ve never seen a storm that size.”

“And are unlikely to again. It could contain the Earth.” The idea was almost humbling. Nathaniel dismissed the emotion. The mission had somehow overtaken a portion of his more natural curiosity. Landing would be…difficult. Once they reached the right trajectory and the captain prepared for descent, all of their interest would be consumed with self-preservation. Tally seemed to read his mind.

“This is going to be a tricky son of a… I mean, presents a problem, don’t it?”

“That’s a mild deduction.” Nathaniel caught both Theobald and Bedford’s disapproving looks, and directed Tally off the bridge by a tug of his sleeve. He should never have allowed Tally to accompany him, but he had grown used to the man’s presence—like a shadow, hound dog and bodyguard combined—and he’d been unable to refuse Tally’s request to view such a sight from the best location. Tally had a way of talking just about anyone around to what he wanted.

Personally, Nathaniel had seen enough. As much as he wanted to take in all there was to be seen as they turned the ship towards their final destination, his expertise would soon be needed elsewhere. He’d calculated the new improved Sovereign would have enough power to resist Jupiter’s pull, but… This was Jupiter. King of planets.

“I know I’m an ignorant Fenian, but if I’m about to meet me maker, tell me why.”

Nathaniel ignored the implied sarcasm. Did Tally really want to know? Tempted to tell him that in this case perhaps ignorance would be advised and indeed blissful, Nathaniel’s scientific bent rose to the fore. “Jupiter is so massive if it were any larger it would become a star. In comparison it has a gargantuan magnetic field, one we believe to be twenty-thousand times stronger than that of Earth.” He’d learned a lot of this from Wollf, or she had at least filled in the gaps his knowledge, education, experience, and Kaskuu had not provided.

“Sure and that’s all very interesting, Nate. Not exactly enlightening me as to our predicament. If I understood his nibs back there, the erm…gravity of our situation is, well, gravity.”

Nathaniel winced a little. “It is but one of our concerns, although the most pressing. It is not the only life-threatening problem facing us.” He did not bother explaining further. They had first to break the atmosphere without burning up or missing the point of entry, pass through clouds with winds travelling over three-hundred miles an hour, find somewhere to land—something all the scientific minds back on Earth kept insisting was impossible—and if they could not find breathable air, which even Nathaniel believed unlikely, carry out a portion if not the whole of their mission in atmosphere suits. Of his smaller devices…those required testing, putting at least one man’s life at risk.

One problem at a time was enough.

Tally was still looking at him expectantly. “Can the pull really be that much stronger than Earth?”

Nathaniel knew that, since leaving Mars, Tally had been reading up as much as he could, that and talking to the experts on the ship—once he got over his initial bout of aether sickness. He still didn’t understand much of the science, but he had a much better grasp of the basics now than he did two months ago.

“Indeed.” They had already been compensating for Jupiter’s gravitational draw, but he did not bother to enlighten or worry the man. “The easiest way to explain our predicament is to tell you what is happening to Io, the closest moon to Jupiter. It’s so close that part of it intersects the atmosphere with a costly result. The pull upon it is so great that the side that bulges into the atmosphere flexes and suffers immense interior distortion.” Nathaniel sought for a way to explain more simply and, searching his pockets, he came up with a piece of wire, plucked it out and turned to Tally. “If you were to bend this back and forth several times, what would happen?”

Tally shrugged. “It would break. Any eejit can see that.”

“Yes, eventually. It would also grow warm at the point where you were submitting the force. Io suffers exceptional heat in its interior. It is a place some might say is akin to Hell itself. Gigantic volcanoes. Streams of sulphur.”

Tally’s brow had furrowed. “So…if Jupiter can do that to a moon…” For the first time he sounded as if he wished to be anywhere but here.

Nathaniel studied the man as he passed through various stages of emotions, most of which could be readily seen on his face. The moment Tally suppressed his fear and accepted that it was too late for him to make choices, he was here, and there was no getting out of it, ended with a wry twist of his lips.

“Enjoying being the eyes of the Bureau still?”

“And to think I’d be happily supping a Guinness in Dublin if I’d not met yer.” Tally regarded Nathaniel with a rueful look. “If I know yer at all, Nate, sure and yer’ll have some kind of plan rattling about in that heads of yours.”

“Naturally. We’ve calculated the best and most plausible point of entry.” Seeing that Tally remained interested, or perhaps sought reassurance, Nathaniel continued. “We’re almost at that point now. The difficulty is the degree of entry. Too shallow and we’ll skip up and off without penetrating. Too steep and…” Perhaps it was best not to share that outcome.

“I can’t say I’m liking the sound of what yer not saying,” Tally said when Nathaniel failed to explain.

Deciding not to lie or prevaricate, Nathaniel replied, “Well too steep and we’d burn—”

The ship shook, pitched him to one side, and then slammed him back the other way.

“Feckin’ hell!” Tally yelped.

For a time Nathaniel was aware only of hovering on the edge of blacking out. From somewhere a klaxon sounded, calling everyone to action. The clamour hardly seemed necessary. A person would have to be dead already not to realise something had gone terribly wrong. Nathaniel had just taken a whack to the head as well as other parts of his anatomy. He hardly needed alarm bells vibrating around what was left of his brain.

As Nathaniel blinked to clear his vision he realised that while an alarm did indeed sound, it was nowhere near as loud as he’d imagined. He could ill afford a concussion; he was therefore worried and shocked when, reaching up to brush a hand across his face, his fingers came away covered in blood.

“Yer bleeding there,” Tally told him quite unnecessarily.

“That I am and—”

The ship lurched. When it regained some semblance of order, Nathaniel fought to stand, accepting a helping hand from Tally. When he regained his feet, both men stumbled back to the bridge.

Even as Nathaniel grabbed hold of the door frame, clinging on, he heard the captain say, “It’s now or never. Set the course and send us on our way.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth to shout no, this was happening too soon, when he realised that Jupiter had made the decision for them. Some miscalculation… Someone’s error… He didn’t know the cause and he didn’t like not knowing, but he considered this and let it go in an instant. They were caught in Jupiter’s pull and all that mattered now was survival.

2.

CAUGHT IN AN UNEXPECTED pull the captain made the only decision possible. They’d hoped to descend lower before setting the right trajectory for entry through the outer atmosphere, but a hasty discussion had all agreeing that it was better to compensate and head on in. They were betting on much—that the approaching storm which would catch their tail end acted like any on Earth, and that above or below there would be a quiet zone. The sight was almost as amazing as Jupiter itself—the outer hull of Sovereign glowing as those on board fought to overcome the forces that all at once tried to pull the ship apart, drag it into a downward spiral, and yet throw it back out into the aether itself—all these energies at once making the haul shudder and scream.

The ship flared under duress, first amber, then red, then white. Sovereign began to shriek even as the captain made adjustments, shouted orders, battled to keep the ship on tack. The ship’s screeching could be heard but also felt, and not only in the way the vessel juddered. Beneath this there was a sensation, akin to a vibration so deep it shivered through Theobald’s bones and teeth. He glanced around the bridge and saw Stone had returned with Cahalleret. The Irishman was making the sign of the cross and the captain wouldn’t have been surprised if the civilian complement throughout the ship was doing the same. The crew… Well, one or two might want to, but they were trained for this.

Whether the pleas worked or the events were merely happenstance, the moment Sovereign breeched the outer atmosphere was evident by the ship gathering speed. The colours of the outer glow changed and the squealing ceased, although the ship continued to shudder and groan. Perhaps they could avoid the storm below them yet.

One man was heard to say, “Well, we’re out of that,” when a flash of white struck across the bow. It was gone in an instant before the captain could correct their course.

“Damage reports,” he snapped, and the information began to pour in. Even as he catalogued the cost to the ship and crew, he looked towards the forward window to see what horrors awaited them next.

Lightning flashed in long, fragmented streaks so close and from so many directions as to almost form a crosshatch—a net that might fall upon Sovereign any moment and lay waste to life aboard if not the ship itself. Penetrating the outer rim of the atmosphere seemed to focus the wrath of the planet in this one spot.

Fanciful notion, and untrue if only in the sense that if such an act of vengeance was possible, Jupiter had a number of ways to exert its full force, all of which would wipe them out as a man might swot a fly.

Still, the only noun suitable for what presented itself through the viewing ports was anger. Rolling thunderheads approached in great dark banks. The situation on board Sovereign was not difficult to imagine—those without a task that could in anyway help, clinging to the vessel as hard as they clung to hope. Barked orders were as good as anticipated and obeyed almost before the captain uttered them.

They could not hear the wind outside, but did not need to listen to know that if it had a voice, it howled. Darkness descended as if trying to smother them, then cleared as the ship dropped several layers down, making stomach’s heave and the crew retch.

One of the men said, “Captain, did you see…?” to which the captain snapped, “A storm? Yes, I’m not blind, man. It’s a ferocious one. Well, what is it that could be more important right now?”

“N-Nothing, sir, Captain, sir.”

3.

ON THE BRIDGE, SEAMAN Roberts gasped, forgetting to carry out the captain’s barked command as the cloud beside him began to swirl as though boiling. Lightning zapped jagged white lines through the seething mass, the blue and white broken by red flashes that made the clouds appear licked by flames.

The crewman had heard of the volcanic activity on Io. Was it possible that they were diving down into a field of lava? He was about to shout out for the captain when the clouds parted. Something large, moving faster than he would have thought possible, rushed towards him, leaving him with the impression of something hard and craggy, a flash of colour, and a row of teeth—if teeth could be the same length as the height of a full-grown man.

Vaguely he was aware of his name being called. He shook himself out of his shock long enough to make the necessary instrument changes. As the hull continued to scream in protest, his concentration was once more taken up with duty and performance of the task at hand.

When he had a chance to think, he decided he had to be mistaken. What he’d seen was just a rock. This place had spooked him, and while there might be room in the universe for giant ants that could communicate, of the creature he thought he’d seen there was no chance. Being out in the aether was bad enough, but what he’d imagined went against everything he believed in of Heaven, and transported him to Hell itself. Another glance outside revealed only the turbulent upper atmosphere of Jupiter. He’d mistaken what he’d seen or not seen a thing. Hardly surprising when even now they groaned their way through noxious gases far out in the universe where he was sure man was never meant to tread. He’d say not a word or he’d spend the rest of the journey locked up somewhere having been labelled a mad man.

Roberts set his mind to following orders, grateful that he’d realised his error before causing himself any embarrassment.

The absence of rain made the storm eerie, though they were drenched in fury. Although the captain fought to keep them on some kind of course and out of the worst, the ship hit pockets where the wind spun them around as if they were a toy played with in the hands of a child. At times the wind was so fierce it grabbed them in its fist and shook them as if it wished to bully them apart.

Lower. They had to go lower. Fortunately, those on board were aware of this, and Roberts anticipated and responded to corresponding orders.

As they dropped, he was sure he was not the only one to suffer several more heart stopping minutes where nothing prevented his internal organs leaping into his throat along with the bile of hopelessness and the desire to be sick. He was better than to react to this, but training and experience appeared to have no care in the selection process of those affected.

One man who had already looked green for some minutes paled, turning as grey-white as the storm clouds, leaned over to spew. Another was fast off the mark and shoved a bag under his face. Roberts swallowed involuntarily, afraid he would be next and, despite keeping his delusions to himself, would suffer some indignity by being taken ill.

4.

“WE’RE GOING TO DIE,” Nathaniel murmured, speaking so low that no-one should have heard. He said it to taste the sound of it, feel the possibility roll around in his mouth and on his tongue. He’d been at risk many times, had breached that barrier, was surprised to find that it could still hold some mystery for him, though he was not afraid. It struck him almost as a delight to realise that Captain Theobald had overheard. The man shot him a look; one that demanded to know what was he doing on his bridge, at the same time as good as declaring him a coward. Nathaniel could swear the comment was on the captain’s lips, but by then Nathaniel had turned to face him. They exchanged a look, and an expression—a faint tightening of Theobald’s brow indicating puzzlement—came over the captain’s face.

He knows I’m not scared.

Indeed, but the captain was, as would any sane person be. Bravery did not equate to not experiencing fear. Nathaniel could see the captain’s apprehension in every dewdrop of sweat upon the man’s brow and as mere split seconds passed they waged a war of wits. The battle was one of which Nathaniel easily became the victor despite the years of experience Theobald had behind him. Simply, Nathaniel was not afraid, but Theobald had all the worries, concerns, and weaknesses of sensible men. Did that make Nathaniel without sense, or had he simply lost them all? He could not say. He just knew that despite his declaration, he would not die here, today. None of them would. Still, things would grow worse before they improved.

As if his decision had a hand in events, one of the crewmen gasped, and all turned their heads. Streaks of distant lightning were so dense they ripped through Jupiter’s sky as if they hoped to form a curtain of white light. The clouds boiled and rolled towards them, bubbling and frothing with what he could only call a physical representation of rage. In seconds it would seethe over them and he was the only one aboard who had any faith in their survival.

“What God forsaken place have yer brought me to?” Tally asked.

When the cloud hit they experienced the worst juddering yet. For a few seconds it was as if something held them in an unforgiving grip, refusing to let go even as other forces attempted to pull them in all directions. The result was a deep shuddering spasm that passed from machinery to man, making Nathaniel’s nerves quake.

This was surely the worst of it, only no, for the next moment Sovereign slewed to the left, then back to the right, the unpredictable lurches having the most heinous effect on stomachs yet. Nathaniel had his hands clenched, his teeth caged with lips pulled back in a silent snarl while his head pulsed with the worst type of sickness.

Damn the frailty of man. Wicked waves of queasiness affected not only his stomach but his very brain. He wanted to lend a hand if only to bring an end to this terrible sensation, but he could do nothing that the captain could not do and, alas, their entry into Jupiter’s atmosphere had been so sudden and against their original plan, he’d never make it to engineering even if he tried. As he watched, it soon became clear that even the captain’s job was hopeless. He might as well join Bedford on the floor where the commander had been flung off his feet. Even Tally had fallen to one knee, his strong grip being the only thing stopping him flying over completely.

The ship continued to drop.

Choosing a direction was futile when they knew not where to head. Right now they were already going in the only possible direction: down. They would either pass through the turbulence or die trying and Nathaniel remained convinced they would not die this day.

Just when it seemed the ship could not take any more punishment, everything stopped.

A pause ensued of stunned astonishment, likely shared by everyone on the ship. Men gazed around, exchanged glances. Relief eased through the bridge, but only as men began to sigh and smile, exchange nods of accomplishment before getting back on with their jobs, did Nathaniel realise his hearing was somewhat diminished and his body still buzzed.

Bedford had already scrambled back onto his feet, straightened his uniform. Tally was now pushing himself up and the first thing he did was to turn to Nathaniel.

“Yer all right there, Nate?”

He gave Tally a nod, endeavouring to pop his ears, relieved when he succeeded somewhat, glad to have sound restored.

At that moment, Orlondo Quintana burst onto the bridge. “Did you see? Did you see?”

Theobald looked fit to burst, but before he could admonish the palaeontologist or scream for unwarranted personnel to leave his bridge, Bedford asked, “To what are you referring, Quintana?”

“The…” Orlondo stopped. “I don’t know. A red glow. And fire, and something moving. Si, yes, something moving at great speed. Something I would swear was flying.”

For a stunned moment everyone stared at the man as if he were mad. Then a tremulous voice spoke up from one side of the bridge.

“Captain, sir, about that. About the something I mentioned that I thought I saw…”

Chapter Three

1.

“ANYTHING TO REPORT, COMMANDER?”

“Negative, Captain.” Bedford had been on first watch. Although he was tired, the wonder of what he was seeing kept him awake and alert. So did the pain of missing Annabelle. He’d missed her all along, of course he had, but seeing…this. The wonder of Jupiter brought her absence home to him. This would have meant so much more had Annabelle been here to share the experience. Duty kept them apart—his to the service of his country and hers to Kai, her daughter so newly found. Understanding did nothing to lessen his heartache. Annabelle’s amazement and wonder would have made this all the more incredible.

How would Kai have reacted to this? Some would consider the half Apache girl a savage but she had Annabelle’s heart, taste for adventure, inquisitiveness, and bravery of both the mother and tribe. Still, for all he knew she might view Jupiter as some giant demon, but just maybe she’d see it for the marvel it was. The Apache were not the savages modern men believed; Bedford knew that better than most.

He couldn’t help wondering of all the miraculous things he currently saw, what else Jupiter was hiding; what would they discover?

When questioned—Bedford tried not to think of Theobald’s technique as interrogation—both Quintana and Roberts had confirmed seeing something moving in the clouds, something, when pressed, they admitted could have been drifting rock and a product of their imaginations. Quintana had not taken his word being doubted as meekly as Roberts, though, and Bedford had stepped in to calm escalating hostilities, remarking they would accept the claims as plausible. Since then, the crew had watched for not only a suitable place to land but life-forms. Several hours on and there was still no sign of either. Something the captain remarked on now.

Speaking low, Theobald said, “If I did not know of the existence of creatures like the dinosaurs on Venus I would like to dismiss such statements.”

Bedford was stuck for something to say in reply. Theobald and he were not on good terms and the captain seldom expressed his doubts.

“I assure you, sir, some of the things I have seen would put aside your misgivings.” Bedford became aware of the captain’s gaze on the side of his face, but held his ground staring out of the forward viewing port. He was happy to recall that he did have something to tell the captain. “The research team have confirmed the atmosphere is noxious and nothing should be able to breathe out there.”

The captain made a soft hmmm sound on an outward breath. “Seems to confirm my suspicions that the stress of entry affected some of the crew and that life out there is unlikely.”

Bedford ignored the challenge in his tone. He had seen much in his time in the aether. He was beginning to believe anything was possible.

“We’re still on course?”

As if Theobald had to ask. “Following the same sweeping pattern of descent, sir, only adjusting to avoid the hurricanes.”

Silence ensued, during which Bedford prepared himself for whatever came next.

“Tell me, if you were in my position, how long would you continue to search for land that all the scientists on Earth insist is not to be found?”

Was this some form of test? Bedford felt like saying he would look for as long as it took, which was to some degree true had they no other mission more urgent. He had to remember that they were here owing to recommendations from Stone and the other scientists on board and one of Stevenson’s “feelings”. Oddly, he felt more inclined to trust Stevenson than Stone, whose computations Bedford suspected were partly invented to suit the man’s requirements. Alas, he had no proof to dispute Stone’s calculations openly, and…he was self-aware enough to know personal feelings could be the cause of such suspicions, although he constantly fought against questioning Stone’s decisions.

Theobald turned to look at him and Bedford was reminded he’d still not replied. What if Theobald was right? What if they passed right through the other side and Jupiter had no centre, proved to be nothing more than a gaseous cloud of violent storms?

Fortunately, he was spared having to answer as Theobald continued. “I have accepted some of the crew, particularly Stevenson, having telepathic leanings.”

That sounded more like an opening to a long conversation rather than a statement, but Theobald confused Bedford by breaking off again. Accepting wasn’t the same as believing and Bedford wasn’t convinced Theobald meant what he said. The captain wouldn’t question reports regarding the Heart and the Drobates or the use of telepathy. No officer would do so openly, but that wasn’t the same thing as having faith. In Theobald’s case, the man would likely believe his superiors had reasons for what they did and that would provide him with sufficient confidence to follow directives even if he retained a niggling doubt. Or maybe that was Bedford’s own prejudices at work. Even if there was an element of truth to his thinking, Bedford didn’t entirely blame Theobald for his scepticism.

“At heart I’m a man of reality.”

That statement sounded true and aligned with Bedford’s view. He didn’t see Theobald as taking kindly to dealing with things ethereal. He was simply a man who would set aside his personal feelings to follow orders.

“The idea of telepathy…” Theobald shook his head. “Can’t imagine it’s something most officers could entirely grasp.”

As Bedford counted Theobald among them, he needed to control his expression. If not for the powers that be stating he had to take such things seriously, Bedford could imagine Theobald longing to throw Stevenson in the brig as a charlatan.

Theobald confirmed Bedford’s thoughts a moment later when he said, “Don’t know about you, Bedford, but I’m more comfortable with the idea of dinosaurs for they at least have physical form. If such beings pose a threat they are something I can aim a gun at.”

“Agreed, sir.” Bedford at least sympathised with this kind of thinking in a military man. He even appreciated it…to an extent. He still couldn’t get past the idea that this conversation served as some kind of investigation; his being assessed by Theobald.

Why now? They’d been in the aether for some weeks, but this was their first true mission since breaking through the asteroid belt. Theobald wanted to assess his performance, Bedford was sure.

Although the captain was the most seasoned officer in the Navy familiar with the recent upgrades to Sovereign, both men were aware Theobald had been placed in command owing to Bedford’s insufficient rank. Contention over this was a given. Pity, for he and Theobald could have made a good team—with Theobald’s more recent knowledge of the workings of the ship and Bedford’s unusual experiences, but it seemed not to be. Bedford found a cautious step necessary.

“So, what do you think, Bedford? Of us basing our search pattern on information from an apparently telepathic able seaman?”

Bedford understood the captain’s dislike, but didn’t share it. “Hardly one crewmember. We have other telepathically inclined individuals on board who have confirmed Stevenson’s intuition.” Bedford stated the obvious, noticed Theobald’s gaze upon him, and was even more assured that he was being tested. “Though, I understand and share your vexation, sir,” he said, surprised at the easiness of the lie coming from his lips. “Alas, with no other intelligence than speculation and scientific on which to base a theory, we have to take our guide from those who know best, sir. And if there is some truth to this telepathy than I would rather trust Stevenson.”

“Because of his experiences with the Drobates?”

“That is one reason. That and those who have sent us on this mission.”

Theobald nodded. “Those in authority greater than us.”

Just like Bedford’s lie, the words seemed to come out of his mouth without effort, but the way Theobald cast a glance in Bedford’s direction made him aware of the captain’s true dilemma. If he mistrusted his superiors’ decisions regarding his working alongside Bedford, Theobald should have no problems questioning those who believed in telepathy. That threw so much of his loyalty into question; the man had to be feeling completely torn. Bedford managed to feel sorry for the captain in this regard. Theobald lacked the practical participation of the things Bedford had seen and done, and the details of which his wife had told him. Of all the voices in the universe hers was the one he would never doubt.

“Change of watch, Commander.”

Bedford blinked. He’d failed to notice but didn’t miss the slight reproach in the captain’s voice. Theobald was the one who had kept him here. He was about to apologise nonetheless and remove himself from the bridge when he started in shock. Movement from outside drew his gaze.

Had he seen Quintana’s beast? He leaned forward, peering into the mist, vaguely aware he earned a frown from Theobald. His tension must have transferred to the other man for, despite any personal feelings of contention, Theobald followed Bedford’s gaze and stared out.

“There,” Bedford said.

“I see it.” Theobald directed the course of the ship closer to the phenomenon. When what they were seeing clarified in the drifting cloud cover, his expression registered as much surprise as any of the men on the bridge. “What on Earth…?”

Bedford felt tempted to remind him that the point was they were not on Earth.

The view grew ever more distinct and both men exchanged a look. Well, here was their land, but Bedford at once saw there was no way to dock. Large drifting plateaus of various shapes and size hung in the air, constantly moving. To try to take a ship the size of Sovereign through this bottleneck would be reckless, to navigate around fruitless. They were looking for land and here it lay, such as it was.

“Commander, organise a meeting with the research team. We have much to discuss.”

2.

“THE ONLY WAY THROUGH will be via a cutter. The question remains; is this expedition worth pursuing to its conclusion?” Bedford did not look at Stone while he said this. Things between them were strained enough. He’d never realised before how much Annabelle seemed to act like a buffer between them. He’d thought more of Stone before now, especially knowing what he meant to Annabelle, but these last weeks he’d failed to appreciate what he’d previously known of the man. Nathaniel Stone had changed. For all Bedford knew, Annabelle was the better part of the professor’s nature. Without her influence he seemed to grow cold. The very fact made Bedford almost…jealous.

He was also annoyed, with Stone and Folkard both. Folkard less so and he knew this was just a reaction, not entirely genuine. He had accepted he would require more weeks than had hereto passed for him to reach some resolution of his feelings, but acceptance had allowed for other emotions to emerge. Folkard had left him with a lot to process and a good deal of responsibility. He would have said it was always better to know the truth but now he could not be sure. The information Folkard had left him played a part in his present ambivalence and such thoughts led him to consider his initial meeting with Stone back in April of 1889 aboard Sovereign. He hadn’t liked Folkard revealing so much to the professor then.

Although it had not been Bedford’s position to question his superior, he had done so, and he hadn’t appreciated how Folkard had dismissed him. He had thought there was something…not quite right with Stone even then, and he hadn’t been wrong to question Folkard’s reasons for taking the man entirely too much into his confidence. A great many things had happened since, and he could not help but wonder whether Folkard would have treated Stone in quite the same way had he known of the man predilections. Bedford hated to be proved right, but more than his dislike he resented the distraction from his duty. Worse, he resented that Nathaniel Stone was not the man Annabelle believed.

Bedford indulged these thoughts while Captain Theobald was looking at the research team who had raised their voices in unison…all except Stone. He sat and stared at Theobald who, after a quick glance at everyone else at the conference table, stared back. When the voices of the other scientists died down, Theobald said, “I appreciate you are all men of science and that it is a matter of curiosity for you all; however—”

“My interest is hardly curious,” Quintana interrupted, managing to express affront.

While he spoke, Bedford glanced at Katharina Wollf to see if she had caught the captain’s exclusion of her sex. She met his gaze, giving the slightest shake of her head. She even managed to look more amused than he would be.

Theobald raised a hand. “I appreciate your scientific interest, but I need to put the safety of the crew and the success of the mission foremost. While we are making good progress and I am happy to take time for any side missions that may benefit our task, Jupiter presents a number of problems to overcome. I also appreciate that none of you can tell me what we will find so there is no real way to know what will benefit us and what won’t until we investigate. What I require, Stone, is your assurance that you’ve made sufficient progress to facilitate extra precautions for this excursion.”

“The breathing apparatus requires testing, and the sub-aether wireless transceivers…” Stone looked at Fontaine. Bedford could have sworn the doctor’s expression was one of irritation; he had to make a conscious effort not to examine their interaction too closely.

“Similarly,” Fontaine said. “We’ve tried the two prototypes. They work but require some fine adjustment.”

“And if that adjustment can be made forthwith, how many units could you have ready for an excursion in four hours’ time?” Theobald asked.

“Four?” Fontaine seemed surprised. When everyone continued to look at him, he added, “Maybe half a dozen.”

“It would be better if every man had one, but it would be enough to divide the team somewhat,” Bedford advised.

Theobald nodded. “The new breathing apparatus. If they work as you claim, you’re sure the air supply will last as long as you say?”

“With sufficient cylinder changes, yes.” Stone sounded more confident than Bedford believed he felt.

“In that case, I propose an investigation of forty-eight hours.”

“Two days?” For the first time during the meeting Stone became animated. “That’s not nearly… With the new speeds we can spare the time. We can set up a base camp, send men back and forth to cover our requirements, supplies, replacement cylinders.”

“It is all you are getting, Stone. Better make the most of it.”

Bedford knew that tone and apparently so did Stone, for he ceased to argue. If pressed, Theobald would likely shorten the time allotted for their exploration.

3.

“HEADACHE, DOCTOR FONTAINE?”

Arnaud rubbed at the back of his neck. “More like neck ache.”

Doctor Beverly grimaced. “Well, stress can do much to a person, affect them in allsortsaways.”

Arnaud found the singsong sound of the Welshman’s voice quite soothing, particularly the way “in all sorts of ways” had run together. He sat patiently while the doctor looked in his eyes, told him to follow the passage of his fingers. He finished his examination by taking Arnaud’s pulse. Arnaud waited until Beverly had finished what he felt was a cursory inspection. Surely a person’s health should warrant more care, though he grew as tired of spending so much time in the sick-bay and being prodded, as Beverly likely was of treating him. Arnaud had tried not to come today, but with the prospect of exploring Jupiter caution and discomfort had finally driven him here. This particular ache had been going on for some time and was beginning to worry him.

When the chance arose, Arnaud spoke his mind. “This has been happening…how you would say, on and off for some weeks. I thought your treatments would have helped.” He tried not to sound accusing.

Doctor Beverly paused to stare directly at him. “Ah, you’re saying they’ve not, then?”

Arnaud moved to nod and then hesitated, considering. “Rarement. A little…maybe.” He couldn’t be sure. Possibly he suffered them a little less.

The doctor was shaking his head, which made Arnaud feel like a scolded child and foolish. Even more so when Beverly smiled and said, “I feel as helpless in this as you.”

Hardly what any patient wanted to hear but Beverly was not finished.

“With everything you’ve been through, I cannot promise you there will be no lingering effects. I cannot promise to cure all your woes. I can say that as long as you continue to come to me now, when you feel unwell, that in time the medication I’m treating you with may continue to improve things, even cure the ache in your neck. You have done well, but no doctor would be able to promise that you will not suffer to some degree for some time.” His expression appeared apologetic. “Even years ahead.”

“You mean permanently.” Arnaud had naturally considered this. If an aching neck was all he had to contend with compared to how badly things could have gone for him, he had no right to complain.

Maybe Beverly saw his dejection for he gave him a thump on the back that in no way took into account his aches and pains. Beverly could be quite boisterous.

“We will work on trying to get you well together, hmm?”

What else could Arnaud do but nod?

“I tell you, I cannot decide whether to feel sorry for you or envious, I can’t.”

“No wish to leave the ship?” Arnaud said with some amusement, happy to talk about anything other than his being sick.

“Likely depends on which hour of the day you ask me, and where we happen to be. Jupiter may be more than I could appreciate. You’re going down in…?”

“I think…” Arnaud blinked, surprised at how swiftly time was passing. “About two hours.” He had made the adjustments to the sub-aether wireless transceivers, which his team had taken to calling SAWs. Reception could be crackly, and Fenn was overseeing the construction of two more units. They were cutting it fine, but chances were he’d have devices numbering six in time for the expedition.

“Well, I can’t do much to lessen the stress, I can’t, but I might be able to do something for that neck ache.”

4.

THE SMALLER BREATHING UNITS had been loaded onto a cart and were to be taken down in the cutter along with other scientific equipment and supplies that the team would need for the next forty-eight hours, or longer. Despite the specially refurbished cutters, capacity was limited and there had been some argument over what was needed. The discussions had not only been restricted to supplies. Theobald commanded Bedford to take charge and had then chosen all those besides the required research members. When Stone asked for both Stevenson and Fenn the captain had at first refused and then asked for what reasons. Stone explained his actions—the need for Stevenson’s guidance and the possible requirement of a skilled engineer—and after some disagreement where Stone pressed his point, the captain allowed him one. In return, the captain had wanted to keep Kaplan and Fontaine on board, but Stone had insisted otherwise. Bedford and some of the researchers had the dubious privilege of standing by during the “conversation”.

“I am sorry, Professor. I am also not going to allow the researchers to outnumber my men who will be there to aid you in any way they can, including protection.” Theobald stressed the last word.

“I’d rather leave Wollf.”

“I…agree in that regard. Unfortunately, owing to the alliance agreement, I can only restrict her taking part under certain circumstances, and this is not one of them. As it is, because you insist on taking many lead members, the lesser researchers are going to be left behind at least for this particular mission.”

“Captain, I’ve explained—”

“Yes, yes. You’ve made your decision because of Jupiter’s uniqueness, enormity, and because of the severely limited time, but I do not see where you need two mineral experts on this expedition, particularly when Wollf will also be part of your team.”

“She’s a meteorologist, not a mineralogist.”

“I am perfectly aware of her expertise. She has sufficient skills to assist should the need arise, and as you also specifically requested Quintana…” Theobald broke off pointedly.

Again another staring contest of the sort they were all becoming so used to seeing took place. Would Stone continue to argue? Bedford was sure if he did, Theobald would remove more members of the research team from the trip. Nathaniel Stone was meant to be in charge of that section, but Theobald was not the sort to allow anyone complete autonomy. Early days yet; the men were pushing each other, testing their limits. Bedford was sure Stone would acquiesce and leave Kaplan behind.

“I will take Quintana and Kaplan.”

Bedford drew on all his training not to blink. Fontaine was not so able to disguise his reaction. He jerked in apparent shock, gaze upon Stone’s face. The professor failed to look his way, just continued his staring contest with the captain, until the other man nodded.

The cutter would be ready to embark in thirty minutes. Stone wasted no time in leaving.

Kaplan had also shown shock, though of a different sort. As Bedford rose to leave, Kaplan stopped beside Fontaine where the other man still sat. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then merely shook his head.

In reply, Fontaine rose to his feet. “Do not pretend to be sorry,” he said quietly. Then a second later, his expression and tone softened somewhat. “Good luck down there. And don’t damage my sub-aether wireless transceivers,” he added after a slight hesitation.

5.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE man,” Tally said. “He won’t let ya have the researchers ya need but says it’s fine if ya want me to tag along. And why is that, mate?”

“Which part?”

“Me, out there, in a…a…whatever ya call ’em. Sodding aether suit thing. Now if it were a case of stepping off onto solid land…” He shrugged, certain Nate would get his drift…although thoughts of drifting brought him back to the chunks of floating land out there. Land was supposed to stay in one place, not hang around on currents of nothingness. “What fer ya want me anyways?” He’d rather go with Nate than be left behind but he didn’t want to look too willing.

“To watch my back.”

“Yer saying ya don’t trust this lot?” Tally lowered his voice, not wanting anyone to overhear as he was unsure who to include in the “lot” of which he spoke.

“I don’t know yet. I’m sure Theobald will have at least one man reporting back to him on our behaviour. Bedford’s included.”

“Sure and that makes sense. A captain’s spy.” Tally considered this a real possibility. “I’m telling ya though, I’m not sure I’m up ta…” Tally drew to a halt. Sophia Davies’s pretty face filled his vision. Nathaniel glanced at him but carried on walking.

Davies waited until he’d gone a few paces then said in a sort of breathless rush. “I just heard. Tally…” She clasped his arm. “Be careful out there.”

“That I will, Miss.” Did she really expect him to be anything else?

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

Tally opened his mouth to do just that but hesitated. He didn’t like to make promises he might not be capable of keeping. “To be sure and I’ll try my best.”

She nodded and moved past, pausing to look back. “I envy you.” She bestowed him with that smile that seemed to encompass so many things at once, before hurrying off.

She envied him? Tally was tempted to tell her she could go in his place, but of course that wasn’t up to him and the thought was hardly gallant. He wouldn’t really put her in harm’s way, and he wouldn’t leave Nate’s side if he could help it.

He turned and hurried after Nathaniel, who had apparently slowed his stride enough so that Tally easily caught up.

Nathaniel looked at him. “What goes on there?”

“Goes…on? Why nothing, nothing.”

“Do you want it to?”

A little more heat than seemed warranted suffused his face. “Can’t say that I do. Heavens, Nate, I’m too old for her.” A thought of Jenny who he’d left behind went through his mind. “Ya know I got me someone. It ain’t that at all.”

Nate just glanced at him sideways and down, offering up a smile.

“I’m tellin’ ya the truth. I honestly don’t know how I feel about the girl. Protective, I guess.” Now that he thought it, the feeling rang true. The desire to keep the girl safe shone out brightest.

“Nothing more?”

They were both men and considering what the professor got up to… Well to be sure he didn’t want to dwell on that, but it meant he hardly need prevaricate. “Not sure I’m up to…to romance even if she were interested, and closer to me own age and I were available. I’m thinking I’m more uncle material.”

“Good. Because Chief Boswell would probably use any number of tools from engineering in all sorts of inventive ways on anyone who hurt her.”

He must have been wearing goggles because for the life of him Tally couldn’t say that had occurred to him before. “Would he have objections to someone, another someone, taking up the role in the sense of uncle material, do ya think?”

“Maybe not if I explain it to him.”

“Would ya?” That came as a blessed relief. Whatever happened he did want to make sure Sophia was never upset.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad of someone else watching out for her, as long as he understands that’s all it is. As long as the man doing so holds to that vow.”

Tally blanched. It hadn’t occurred to him that protecting her could amount to self-preservation.

6.

OWING TO THE TERRAIN where they were having to land, the men donned their atmosphere suits and took up their positions in the cutter.

As it eased away from Sovereign the hull began to vibrate. Although they were in a relatively quiet area, the cutter was much smaller in comparison to the main ship and the passengers could feel the lingering effects of the tail end of a storm. As soon as the flight levelled off, Nathaniel joined Bedford in the forward section.

“What do you think, Stone?”

Nathaniel stared where Bedford indicated. Several layers below them the ground appeared almost solid. There were several cave entrances.

“If there’s an inner core it’s the best evidence of one we’ve seen.”

“Can’t land the cutter there. The ground is too uneven.”

Petty Officer Pinfold appeared to be calculating and searching in agreement with Bedford’s comment, circling the cutter over the rising table of ground. Finally he pointed. “How about there, sirs?”

Stone and Bedford both looked, exchanged glances. Stone was the first to answer. “Higher and further away from the core than I’d like.”

“Agreed. I can see why you’ve chosen it, Pinfold. Well done, but take one more pass to be certain.”

They did, but eventually Bedford made the only decision open to them. The area Pinfold had spotted provided more than enough space to set down the cutter and a direct if staggered route to a sector containing several openings.

“Set us down.” Bedford gave the order and even as the pilot aligned the cutter, Nathaniel stood.

“I’ll return to the aft section.”

Bedford managed a smile. “Checking on how Tally is doing, eh?”

7.

THE CUTTER MOVED THROUGH the uneven layers, the passengers controlling various levels of tension. At one point the transport slewed to one side. A few men gasped.

“Close one,” someone muttered.

Another laughed. “Close means you survived.”

Tally swallowed. He hadn’t liked the look of the cutter, not on Jupiter at any rate, for it seemed too small. Size was relative, especially here. One-thousand and three-hundred Earths to fit inside Jupiter; it didn’t bare thinking about. Sovereign was but a pebble, which made the cutter a speck. Getting into this thing to head away from the ship had been bad enough but it hadn’t helped when he’d realised the cutter carried thirteen crew members. Whose stupid idea was that? Tally would have said he wasn’t suspicious, no more than your average man anyway, but he didn’t like the idea, especially when he’d overheard one of the crew make mention of The Thirteenth Man.

“What’s the thirteenth man?” Tally had asked in all innocence.

“Cutter carries thirteen, unlucky for some.”

“Oh…” He’d frowned in puzzlement.

“Don’t worry, mate,” the seaman whose name had escaped Tally largely owing to his nerves twanging, said. “We tend ta apportion that dubious honour to the last man on board who gets the last seat.”

The last seat was a pull down contraption put in almost as an afterthought and squeezed in to a small space at the back.

Tally glanced over now. Kaplan had been last on board and if the way he kept shifting around was any way to judge then the seat was as uncomfortable as it looked.

For the most part talk was non-existent. In the aft section the view outside was limited, and Tally felt grateful for that. He’d seen the front of the cutter and knew what an uninterrupted view Nathaniel, Bedford, and Pinfold were getting right now.

As if he’d conjured him, the door separating the sections opened and Nathaniel returned. He took the seat next to Tally, who nodded to him in place of hugging on to him fiercely. His nervousness far outweighed any embarrassment and uneasiness caused by the thought. Still, Nathaniel had obviously learned how to pick up on his moods.

“How are you fairing?”

“I’ve been shoved into the equivalent of a giant torpedo with a glass tip at the front and fins on the back, and a fire at the rear end to boot. How d‘ya think I’m fairing?”

Nathaniel smiled and a few who had overheard grinned. “We’ll be landing shortly.”

“Feck,” Tally muttered. A few more of the men turned to look at him. He shrugged. “Just worked out it’s almost midnight. Missin’ me shuteye.”

In private, Nathaniel might have teased, even though Tally would have insisted he truly was feeling the pangs of insufficient sleep. The excitement and urgent demand of this mission had overtaken more mundane needs.

Something popped. A small light began to flash. A crewman tapped, and then ignored it. Despite the man being relaxed Tally grabbed for his helmet. As the other more experienced men looked at him, he regained a little equilibrium. He waited in silence as the cutter landed, and then followed the rest as they began to fasten and check each other’s headgear.

A few minutes later, each man attached the hose before pulling the ring releasing the air they needed to breathe, and stood ready to exit.

Chapter Four

1.

STEVENSON WAS THE FIRST to see the bright flashes of light in Jupiter’s sky and pointed them out to Nathaniel. Until that moment Nathaniel had been absorbed with the problem of finding a way to the core. The sky lighting up with red fire concerned him, but alarmed the others more.

The apprehension of the men was only overseen by their training. Soldiers of any description might be good at keeping their misgivings and grievances to themselves, and in maintaining their nerve, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel fear. Accidents happened, and when one of those streaks of white turned into what looked like a red starburst of an explosion, one of the younger members of the team jerked back to his detriment. The landing party could only surmise his alarm by his stumbling about and waving of his arms.

He was suffering the derisive looks of his team members when there became reason for more alarm. A rumbling noise preceded a vibration. Although no debris fell, the men turned their heads, looking for a shower of falling rocks. Some of the crew ducked in apparent anticipation of being struck by fragments. The atmosphere suits made their movements cumbersome and for a brief moment a couple of the men were in danger of being a risk to themselves.

Nathaniel peered over the edge of the current land mass, trying to determine a way down. Stepping from one shifting surface to another wouldn’t be difficult as long as those levels continued to move in the gentle drifting patterns, but the layers would need to be navigated like stepping stones until they reached their intended destination. Not easy while wearing such cumbersome gear. He could only hope that once they reached the lower level they would find the entrance to the inner core, and that from then on they could rely on the smaller breathing apparatus.

“You’re sure this is the only way inside?” Bedford had already expressed the fact that he failed to relish the idea.

Nathaniel was not prepared to repeat himself so said nothing, allowing Bedford to interpret his silence as affirmation.

“Let’s be at it then.”

Despite trying to stay cheerful, an underlying pain laced Bedford’s voice. Nathaniel understood—Bedford’s feelings could not be disputed; being exposed and vulnerable out here in the midst of an unsteady world was like nothing any of them had done before.

Nathaniel recollected traversing and overcoming a problem with heights in numerous circumstances, but those issues were a mere taster to this. In some ways, an aether-walk had been easier. The land on Jupiter left him with that feeling of walking on something uncontrollable where the end could be a single step away.

Nathaniel felt a push and looked round at Tally. It was good to have the man along to drag him out of such wandering thoughts, although thinking of something else had helped and not for the first time. He’d not forget his first aether walk outside Peregrine Station or trying to rid them of the mercurial plate that dragged them into the vortex, and Heaven.

The surrounding constant movement played with his equilibrium and did strange things to his vision and mind. Balance was problematic at best.

No sooner had he the thought than the issue of stability overtook one of the seamen who now teetered on the edge of the moving land mass. Another man lumbered towards the struggling man, but with his hand outstretched an inch away from grabbing his companion, the man fell over the side.

2.

BEDFORD PUT OUT AN arm in a forestalling gesture. They hardly needed another to follow the falling man over the edge. With the sign came caution as others approached to look. When they ascertained the man had landed on a lower level, and appeared to be indicating only minor injuries, Bedford turned back to Stone to find him quite preoccupied, apparently still trying to work out a pattern of descent. Bedford lumbered over to him, even though there was no need to do so in order to use the SAW. Indeed, some distance when using the devices was better, as Bedford realised when feedback squealed in his ear, making him wince.

“Have you worked out the best way down, Stone? Some of us have to retrieve our man.”

“You do that. My team and I will make our own way.” He pointed in the direction he had decided on. “I think that’s our best way to reach the point of entry.” He didn’t wait for permission or to hear which members of the landing party Bedford would order to go with them.

With a nod to his team, Stone moved to the edge of the land mass, paused for what Bedford judged to be a suitable moment, and stepped off. Bedford half wanted the blighter to fall over, even if it wasn’t the right thing for an officer to wish for.

Bedford shook his head to dispel his belligerent thoughts. His mind once more flicked to Folkard’s journal and the revelations contained therein. Although it did not sit well with him, he could comprehend the reasons for protecting Stone’s reputation, not least of all because of his association with darling Annabelle and what the revelation would do to her heart. He could see the sense that such exposure could be used by their enemies, affect the inviolability of the mission, so in principal he agreed. He would protect Stone’s reputation, but did that truly also mean he must protect the man? Bedford had no intention of hurting Stone, or standing by and letting him die, but the temptation not to try as hard as he might definitely existed.

Well, so he was human, but that didn’t mean he had to give into such base an instinct. How did that make him much better than Stone, that he would stand by and allow harm to come to another? Of course he wouldn’t, and Folkard had known. Folkard had tied him to a promise Bedford had never made in person by writing the request before his death and thereby reaching out from the grave. He had known Bedford would find it difficult, if not impossible, to turn aside from such an appeal. Folkard had bargained on Bedford’s integrity.

Standing on the rim of a drifting plateau Bedford finally made peace with Folkard. He had written of things beyond this existence, referred to everything being connected, and man being nothing more than speck of sand on a beach. Was Stone a speck or something more? Folkard had indirectly…not forgiven Stone, but set aside such feelings for something he considered of more importance. He had pardoned the deviance of two men for something greater, and if such a man as Folkard could do so, Bedford could do no less.

He could not abandoned Stone or the mission, and besides if Annabelle ever learned of such an action she would never forgive him. In any case, such a thing was not in Bedford’s nature. He looked back, considering, and then assigned two men to rescue the injured man and to return him to the cutter. He’d left two officers on board to fly it back to the ship if necessary—Pinfold as pilot and another man to keep watch so Pinfold could have rest and company to help him stay alert. Until this mishap the exploration party had contained an almost equal number of researchers and crew—six to five. He told the two rescuers to follow as soon as they were able, but until they caught up the researchers would outnumber the crew—precisely what Theobald hadn’t desired. Bedford wished he didn’t have to log the incident in his report.

When Stevenson looked at him, Bedford gave a nod and allowed the able seaman to join the researchers who had already divided the extra equipment between them.

He handed one of the SAWs to the two men he’d chosen, hoping they wouldn’t take long to accomplish their task, and then took his plus-one after the research team, which to all intents now seemed to include Stevenson.

3.

AT EVERY STEP, NATHANIEL tested the integrity of the ground. A few curses and grunts issued through his headset and a glance back confirmed his team followed. He turned back to taking the next level down. This one necessitated him sliding down a slight incline but at least the slowly drifting mass far overreached the next level and there was little danger of falling to one side.

A look off to the right and further along showed him that two men were making their way to their fallen comrade with more difficulty. He left them to it and set his sight on the dark entryway Erasmus and instinct had pin-pointed. He was aware of Bedford following with another man, but aside from the possibility that they could use some firepower for protection from whatever they might find, he would have been happy to leave everybody behind who wasn’t a specialist in some scientific field…or an engineer.

The last encounter with Captain Theobald had rattled him more than he cared to admit. Each research team had a leader, but Nathaniel was in charge of the research mission so by rights Theobald did not have the authority to deny him those researchers he required. He should have pushed for Arnaud as head of geology. However, Erasmus and Jack—they were only available to him at the behest of the captain. He needed Erasmus as an assistant guide, so when the captain had said he could only have one of the men he’d had no choice but to choose him.

He also needed Jack, although he couldn’t say why. Nathaniel was quite capable of mechanical repairs, as were many on his team, so why he should need an extra engineer… No, he didn’t know the reason, but again, he was going on instinct. Choosing between the rest of the team and Arnaud…that decision had been made easier by Jack’s exclusion. He’d left Arnaud on the ship to keep him safe. He didn’t expect Arnaud to appreciate or understand that when he didn’t understand it himself. He sensed the reason would reveal itself in time.

The opening was quite round and more cave-like than he had expected. Although they would have to duck to enter, the entrance easily accommodated a man. With some irony, Nathaniel accepted he would have the most trouble entering owing to his height and indeed, as he proceeded first, had to withhold a curse as he went almost to his knees. Nathaniel gave a slight shake of his head. He seemed to be always navigating caves and tunnels, and would like a change. Some place with a decent view, maybe a garden, though he had to admit the cave was an improvement on the drifting masses. As incredible and fascinating as Jupiter appeared, he preferred ground more stable, and the interior could have been any cave on Earth. He just hoped he did not have to crawl through the heart of the planet at a crouch or on his hands and knees. Fortunately, a small way within, the tunnel opened to a height where he was able to stand. The corridor, such as it was, led into darkness.

Nathaniel waited for the rest of his researchers to catch up with him, and even for Bedford. Then with just a look, he conveyed his thoughts to the commander who, with a frown, turned aside and ordered his single man to make headway and joined him in front. Nathaniel let the military men take point.

As Nathaniel watched even Bedford carrying a share of their equipment and supplies into the depths of Jupiter, he accepted their presence served a purpose after all.

A few feet along the corridor and he was once again descending.

4.

ERASMUS STEVENSON PAUSED AT an intersection, glancing at Nathaniel through the somewhat restrictive view of the atmosphere suit. He hated the metallic taste of the air he currently breathed, though dreaded relying on the new smaller devices. They’d hardly been tested in the field sufficiently. Although he accepted there always had to be a first time, he didn’t relish being the equivalent of a lab rodent. No longer anyway. Once he would have volunteered, and had even done so, but he was not sure he had the nerve for it any longer.

He…trusted Nathaniel, though. At least where scientific matters were concerned and, perhaps, even more personal ones. As for their…misunderstanding, he tried to shake off the blame for that. As an officer some secrets were not his to know. Some things in life required stealth. He should have had more faith. The only thing he could do was to learn from his mistakes.

Despite his renewed sense of trust, Stevenson knew he was here because of his telepathic ability, grateful only a few others on board ship were aware. He didn’t want the general crew to look at him as some sort of divining rod, much as Nathaniel was doing now. Or worse, as a freak. He’d begun to suspect that Nathaniel didn’t entirely need him, had picked up a little unnatural instinct of his own, but was using him as confirmation and perhaps even cover for what he already knew.

Something was pulling them in the right direction. Stevenson hesitated at the intersection, not because he didn’t know which route to take, but because the fact that he did frankly unsettled him.

An encouraging smile and nod from Nathaniel helped set him on the path.

5.

OF THE PORTABLE SAWS, Stone had handed two to the few remaining military members of their party, one being naturally in the hands of Bedford, and the other, Stevenson. The rest Stone had handed to his research team. To conserve the batteries, the team divided into four pairs linked by means of the speaking tubes. Kaplan had the misfortune to find that Stone went off with Stevenson which left him linked to Quintana. All he could hear was the man’s puffing as the minutes stretched out.

About an hour into the mission, Stone called a break and conferred with Bedford. Apparently they had decided they were far enough into the core for the removal of their cumbersome space gear. Kaplan was by no means eager to test the theory, so was glad the odd man out—a particularly eager and young recruit left in Bedford’s charge—volunteered before Bedford had the chance to give the order. The geologist suffered pangs of guilt over the thought, but was willing to allow he was only human and not ready to die. His knowledge of aether travel was much more limited, but how Stone calculated they were deep enough and in the right area for the suits not to be necessary was beyond his understanding. When the test subject was still standing after five minutes of using the new breathing equipment, Bedford decided that it was certainly safe for them to lighten their loads and switch to the smaller breathing apparatus, which appeared to be working.

A quarter of an hour later they continued on, carrying much lighter equipment and moving much easier and therefore faster. Despite being able to talk through the new face masks, even though it made them sound rather strange to each other, the journey was made in silence other than Quintana’s continued puffing. Kaplan had hoped the man wouldn’t stick to him quite so closely but he seemed to take the idea of them operating in pairs almost too seriously. Kaplan began to wish for Fontaine. The Frenchman could be good company when Kaplan let his guard down, and ignored his professional rivalry, his personal irritation, his annoyance that Fontaine was in charge of the geology team.

Kaplan allowed a self-deprecating smile to take over his expression. He didn’t understand or even agree with Fontaine’s being in charge, but maybe the time had arrived for him to accept he was lucky to even be here. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t claim it was Fontaine’s fault; probably some executive decision by someone who had never stepped outside of an office. He would…try a little harder to get to know Fontaine when he returned to the ship.

Theobald had specified this was a forty-eight-hour mission and by the time they paused again, by Kaplan’s calculation, they’d been on the move for almost two of them. They had half the allotted time to make a discovery before they needed to turn back…less than that in reality for their assent would surely take longer. That still left them some hours, but nothing he’d seen so far was exactly encouraging. Of the details that did interest him, they had no time to stop for a true investigation. Kaplan gathered a few samples as he went, each one adding to his dissatisfaction at having to leave so many possible finds untouched. He even found his thinking turning to thoughts of how Fontaine would share his frustration.

Of the immediate area they moved between patches of dark and light—luminescence of some kind filtering down through pinprick apertures in the rock. At one point there were so many it was like looking at a star-lit sky.

So taken with the structure of the cave walls was he, Kaplan failed to notice it at first, but as the main corridor they were following took another turn, he tapped Stone on one arm and said, “Am I mistaken or are we following…?”

“A geometric path?”

Kaplan nodded.

“Yes. I believe it is something like an elongated honeycomb pattern.”

Kaplan gave that idea consideration. The inclines interspersed with flat levels could build into something like that. Many protective shapes were to be found in nature but this… He could only think of it as an outer shell around an interior. What was this shell protecting?

They found out in another half hour of walking.

6.

ARNAUD’S NECK ACHE HAD spiralled up into his head. The rhythmic pounding had grown so bad he was even starting to feel sick. He hated to bother Doctor Beverly, and he certainly wanted no-one to think he was suffering some relapse owing to having been poisoned by Moonsinge, but as this was no doubt an escalation of the same pain he’d already reported he saw no reason for his seeing the doctor to appear in any circumstances out of the ordinary.

Despite this, Doctor Beverly was apparently so taken by surprise to see Arnaud that he dropped something he was holding and also swept a dish off the table. The resulting clash did nothing to ease Arnaud’s pain and he winced.

“Excuse me.”

The doctor bent to retrieve what appeared to be an ornate box and then the dish. The box he covered, the dish he set aside, probably for sterilisation. Arnaud had apparently come at a bad time. The doctor no doubt had some personal memento in the box. Had he a sweetheart? Valentine’s Day was almost upon them. Thoughts would turn to loved ones left behind. Arnaud’s thoughts naturally involved Nathaniel.

“I thought you were down with the rest, I did.”

“Long story. Short version is my pain has grown worse. Along with the aching neck I have a pounding headache.”

“Really? Well I can’t always work miracles the first time around. Still, I thought that painkiller I gave you would have sufficed.” He waved Arnaud to a seat. “Ideally, I’d prescribe rest, some sleep to have gone with it. I suspect you’ve been on your feet since, haven’t you?”

Arnaud thought about that and then nodded. It was mostly true. The first break he’d had was when the cutter left the ship…without him. What would the doctor think if he told him the painkiller had worked up until then?

“Is the headache why you stayed on board, then?”

Arnaud, lost in his own thoughts, took a moment to register the question. “Oui.” He shook his head. “Non.” When Beverly continued to look at him as though expecting an answer, he added, “Some disagreement over numbers. Nathaniel… He… Stone chose…” Kaplan over me. He couldn’t say that aloud; hoped Beverly took his abortive attempts to explain owing to his headache. “He took Kaplan.”

“Decided to test the man out in the field, no doubt. Clever fella.” Beverly offered what was likely intended to be a reassuring smile, while Arnaud wondered whether the fella he referred to was Kaplan or Nathaniel.

“Maybe.” He hadn’t thought of that and while it was possible, Arnaud didn’t believe it. Maybe he just couldn’t think straight while his brain continued to thump inside his skull.

He flinched back, half stumbling off the seat when Beverly returned, approaching him with a needle. He bit down on his tongue, a second from screaming at Beverly to take that away. Not wishing to appear a lunatic, he gave the doctor a small smile.

“Pardonnez-moi. I…have developed a dislike for those things.”

No doubt that would now go into Beverly’s next report and be recorded for prosperity and one day be the cause of the merriment or disgust of some official who didn’t even know him, and who could have no idea what he had been through. He waited to see pity on Doctor Beverly’s face but the man only set the injection aside and gave him that same pleasant smile.

“Perfectly understandable, that is, and if you don’t feel comfortable I’ll try something else. This would be the best way to get rid of that headache of yours now and you could lie down right here in the sick bay to have a little rest. I could make sure you’re not disturbed now.”

While the beds here weren’t the most inviting and he might have preferred the comfort of his own bunk, Arnaud suspected that he would get no peace there. The desire for sleep tugged at his senses. His annoyance, bewilderment, and sense of betrayal over Nathaniel’s actions made a few hours of oblivion all the more enticing.

“Doctor Fontaine…” Beverly broke off and then offered a warm smile again. “Arnaud, as a medical man I do appreciate what you’ve been through and I can tell you now I’ve seen many men, especially military men, endure much trauma. Sometimes the only cure can come from within. I know you dislike the idea of an injection, but at some point you need to decide whether to start trusting again now. And in who to have a little faith. I promise you,” the man’s gaze twinkled at him, “your wellbeing is important to me, it is.”

Faith? Trust? Arnaud wanted to laugh. The one man he thought he could trust above all else wasn’t even on the ship. He could no longer be bothered with the worry. At Doctor Beverly’s behest, he removed his jacket and then rolled up his sleeve.

7.

THE CAVERN WAS SO VAST everyone stood gaping. Rock formations that at once put in mind the idea of stalactites and stalagmites running into each other to form long columns seemed to offer support to the chamber roof.

When the natural excitement of discovery overtook their surprise the group headed down, taking care on the uneven and often pocked ground.

“I wish we had more time,” Kaplan remarked. He couldn’t help how alike and dissimilar the rocks were, and even though the accumulation would weigh him down, he would have to collect various samples to take back to the ship. Not enough. No matter how many he took back, they would never satisfy his curiosity. He’d require a lifetime to study all that surrounded him.

Fontaine was missing out on all this. Kaplan experienced a moment of perverse pleasure and then grew angry with himself. So much for his resolution. He had other things too important to concentrate on and should be above gloating, but reasoned if he could not resist there would be time enough later to behave like a better man. Back on the ship. When he could see Fontaine’s face as he displayed his finds and…share this with him rather than flaunt his discoveries, Kaplan decided in that moment. He would gain something in the sharing as well—what was the point in any field of science if the scientist was unable to benefit mankind, and to share the miraculous with others? Doing so would be all the better when there were people who would appreciate his excitement. He hadn’t got to know enough members of the research team, could likely only recognise a quarter of them on sight. True, this was partly down to the large amount of unexpected work from Stone in the early weeks, but that excuse only forgave his behaviour to a degree.

Kaplan desired to make friends; had done for some time and had constantly put it off, through design or happenstance. No longer. He would start with Fontaine and then make a concerted effort to get to know the others. Maybe even Quintana.

Hmm… He wasn’t sure about that but he’d try to keep an open mind. Kaplan was able to laugh a little.

He took another step and slipped on a soft, finely stratified rock that split apart revealing its fragile nature. Shale. Much of what he saw was much like on Earth but some… He couldn’t begin to catalogue their composition. He believed even those he recognised would hold some mysterious nonconformity.

Navigating a particularly steep incline he put his hand down, only to swiftly withdraw it again. He looked about at the other men and noticed a couple of them had discovered the same. Kaplan examined his hand. He’d not been burned, but the ground was quite warm.

“Do you feel…?” He didn’t need to complete the sentence for several members of the team were nodding.

“Si, si. Warm. In some places very hot.” Quintana huffed out the words.

Kaplan hadn’t noticed that, but as he carried on he touched various areas, this time with more care, and noted the degree of heat varied. If the cavern weren’t so vast the enclosed space would have been quite humid.

“A possible source of thermal energy,” Wollf said, speaking for the first time since the start of their mission. Kaplan had almost forgotten her presence.

All this was interesting but unhelpful. Kaplan was beginning to realise the enormity and, indeed, impossibility of their task. He felt rather stupid for laughing at Tally’s incredulity over the size of Jupiter now. While Jupiter was fascinating and there might prove to be a wealth of minerals, he could achieve little in the allotted time. If this preliminary search proved successful he had little doubt that more research teams would follow eventually, and he took some pleasure in knowing his discoveries would be a foundation for future investigation. He had no way to know if he could be part of that exploration, but the potential for his return existed. Stone could have chosen Fontaine, but instead he, Marcus Kaplan, had been given this opportunity. He would make the best of it, and yes, he fully intended to share it.

Kaplan lost the thought at the sight of two figures marching ahead. Stone and Stevenson made their way in a straight line directly from the place where they had entered off to the left.

As if they knew exactly where they were going.

Kaplan stood there frowning, quite forgetting the marvellous sights and scientific discoveries to hand.

8.

STEVENSON LOOKED BACK ACROSS the cave floor. He and Nathaniel had outpaced the others, leaving them behind. He cast another look at the professor, wishing half his face and much of his expression were not concealed behind the mouthpiece and clouded by his breath.

“Bedford will find us,” Nathaniel said as if reading his mind. He sounded as if he didn’t much care whether that was true.

All well and good but wouldn’t others wonder how they had chosen their destination? He’d let the professor carry that explanation should one prove necessary. Still he couldn’t help but feel guilty—he had gone off without informing his commanding officer and neither he nor Nathaniel were now carrying their share of the load.

Something touched him and he jumped, feeling shamefaced when he realised Nathaniel had patted him on the shoulder.

“Trust me, when they see what we’ll find…” Nathaniel didn’t finish the sentence.

“And what will we find?”

The other man stared ahead. He maintained a brisk pace, but his gaze became distant. “I have no idea but it is going to be incredible.”

Stevenson inwardly agreed, although he felt uneasy. To say he could feel it in his bones would have been accurate enough.

Where Nathaniel seemed delighted and confident, Stevenson began to wish he was back on Endeavour. His being here had been forced upon him. Could he, should he, mention his personal problems to Nathaniel? He recalled sharing much with Nathaniel during their escape from the City of Light and Science and decided to take the chance. He started by expressing his mixed feelings over Bedford’s request for his transfer.

“Is there nothing you’ll take from being assigned to Sovereign?” Nathaniel asked looking down from his taller height.

“Not…nothing. I’m not oblivious to the experience, the incredible things I’ll be a witness to. And what I do, it’s for the good of Her Majesty, all on Earth, and in service to my country. And…there are people with whom it’s good to become reacquainted.” He refused to look at Nathaniel as he said that. “There’s just so much that has happened to me.”

Nathaniel nodded as though he knew and understood, but he didn’t know all of it.

“It’s not just the Drobates.” Stevenson shook out his hand after touching what turned out to be a particularly warm outcropping of rock. “Something…happened to me while I still served aboard HMAS Endeavour. While we waited for Sovereign to arrive on Mars, the crew were given shore leave.”

Promotion had gone hand in hand with new orders. Along with supplies and personnel, Stevenson had been there to transfer to Sovereign. He preferred working with Commander Armstrong than Bedford but perhaps he was being unfair and his feelings were tainted by his longing to be elsewhere.

“I…was glad for the leave.”

“You sound as if you did not expect to be.”

Stevenson struggled with how best to convey his thoughts and feelings. “Do not mistake my reticence for disrespect or ingratitude. My feelings over joining Sovereign have been and continue to be mixed.”

A short silence ensued while they picked their way over to the far wall of the cavern. Ahead, another corridor, small and narrow, loomed. Time was running out. If he were going to confess what had happened to Nathaniel he would need to do so before something scientific captured the man’s interest.

As if Nathaniel sensed his uncertainty, he turned to face him. “Must I grant you the sanctity of the confession?” He reached out and placed a hand on Stevenson’s shoulder. “I will use nothing you tell me against you.”

He wasn’t sure about that, not after Nathaniel heard what he had to say, but he’d been holding it in so long, it all came out in a rush.

“I was so pleased to get a chance to explore Syrtis Major. Mars was so different to Luna.” He wanted to tell Nathaniel how he had felt setting foot on a completely alien world but although the other man continued to nod, he also eyed up the entrance to the tunnel. Stevenson was also aware the others would come looking for them soon, and it wasn’t as if they were hidden. They would wonder why they had stopped to talk if they did so for too long.

“I toured the bazaar and then headed to the British quarter. I thought to meet up with some of the other men from Endeavour, and share a pint. I chose the quickest route—”

That snapped Nathaniel’s head round. “The Harbour District?”

A completely stupid thing to have to admit to but Stevenson nodded quickly before his sense of embarrassment and shame prevented him. “I know. The Thieves Way. I should have known better.”

“Many a man has found that out the hard way, or so I’ve heard. I’m sorry if you were robbed and hurt, especially after all you’d already been through.”

He was losing Nathaniel’s attention again. “No. It was worse than a mere mugging.”

Nathaniel looked down at him again and then over the top of his head—not difficult for someone of such a height. He turned, drawing Stevenson into the corridor with him, but instead of going far, he stopped a short way in. “Tell me quickly before the others catch up.”

Stevenson saw no point lingering on what he’d seen in the Harbour District—people beaten and robbed in front of witnesses who would never come forward and were as likely to rob the robbers in turn. Even the British Army soldiers had ignored the goings-on. He’d never imagined such despicable behaviour, but had been determined to protect himself should the need arise. What he hadn’t expected when he felt something hard pushed into his back was the person wielding the unseen weapon to be a lady.

“She called me Monsieur Stevenson.”

“French?” Nathaniel sounded mildly amused.

“I was more taken by the fact that a woman would do such a thing as to put a knife to my back, and a lady at that. She was so civilised.”

“In all but action,” Nathaniel said, and Stevenson could only agree.

“She said that someone called Kronos wanted to see me. I would have fought but even before I got a chance to see her face, I discovered she was not alone. I was coshed and knocked unconscious. When I came to…”

Here Stevenson stumbled both in action and thought. Nathaniel caught hold, steadied him, and then hands still gripping Stevenson by the upper arms, said, “You haven’t reported this.”

“No.” He put all his shame into that one word. “When I awoke some hours had passed and they had smuggled me out of Syrtis Major to Meepsoor. The woman introduced herself as Lady Hyperion, and lady she was in as much as I could judge by her manner of dress. There was also a man… Lord Hyperion or so he claimed. Lady Hyperion waved around a pistol as if she cared not if it went off, while her husband looked on. In answer to their questions I gave nothing but my rank and position…at first.”

Stevenson swallowed. Nathaniel’s gaze dipped to the movement in his throat and then once more stared into his eyes. In that moment, Stevenson thought he would give anything to be able to stop, but how could he? Whether Nathaniel informed Bedford or the captain of his confession, his fate in that regard was in the professor’s hands, figuratively and literally, as the man continued to hold him by the arms as if he thought he might run away.

“They claimed they didn’t care who I was. They knew of my having been on Luna and directed their questions to that. They demanded information on Luna and the Drobates, anything I might have learned from them. They knew so much… I have no idea how, but I refused to enlighten them further.”

“They tortured you?”

Nathaniel’s question gave Stevenson a chill, owing to what had happened to him in Meepsoor, and on Luna at the hands of the Drobates, but also because the modulation in his voice made it sound as if the professor was more interested than upset on Stevenson’s behalf.

Closing his eyes briefly, Stevenson tried to push the feeling away. He felt as if he were about to be interrogated again and that was madness. Perhaps he had more of a road to walk to recovery than he had thought.

“In a sense,” he replied to Nathaniel’s question of torture. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and he did not know if he could continue.

Fortunately, Nathaniel looked beyond him again and, letting go and stepping back, he said, “Later.”

That was the only word of warning Stevenson got, but it was enough. The others had almost caught up and as Nathaniel disappeared into the corridor, Stevenson hurried after him.

9.

“CONTINUE YOUR STORY,” NATHANIEL said when they’d made some headway on the others. “This Lord and Lady Hyperion, were they truly French?”

“I’m not sure. Certainly with Lord Hyperion it was difficult to judge whether his accent was genuine or pretence.”

“What else did they ask of you?”

At least Nathaniel had not asked him directly about the torture, although that was an essential part of his story and he could not tell the full tale without making mention of it. “They asked me about the Followers of Decay. I had no idea what they were talking about. I knew little about local culture. They told me these followers were often known as the Worm Cult, which I did know, of course.”

He glanced at Nathaniel’s face, perversely pleased to see a grimace. Nathaniel had first-hand knowledge of the cult.

“Lord Hyperion mentioned how their tales of depravity was the stuff of myth and that tallied with what I had heard. He told me that Kronos, the man they had said wanted to see me, was once a priest in the Worm Cult. He said…”

Here Stevenson could not continue. He had been threatened by the methods the Worm Cult employed to make people talk. That threat after what he had been through with the Drobates… Well, it was a wonder his mind had not unravelled then. Fortunately, he did not need to explain for the next moment he felt Nathaniel’s hand on his forearm drawing his attention. When he looked into the professor’s eyes he saw sympathy and understanding. Nathaniel had once been at the mercy of the Worm Cult, and the mutual experience made Erasmus feel as if they shared a kinship.

As much as he appreciated the gesture he also felt oddly threatened by it, as if the very comfort he required might shatter him. That more than anything made him tell the rest.

“They wanted to know where on Mars the Red Sands were buried. They seemed to think the Drobates knew and that I might have gleaned it from them. Other than Mars being referred to as the Red Planet, I had never heard of such a thing. Despite how Mars looks from out in the aether, there was little actual red sand as far as I had seen, although of course I had seen little of Mars. The moment I told them this, Lady Hyperion slapped me. She claimed the Red Sands to be a weapon, the source of a war that destroyed Vulcan. She claimed Drobates were the original inhabitants of Vulcan, but of course I knew that from when we were last on Luna. But the Drobates of Luna know nothing of their past, and in that they are as ignorant as I of the Red Sands. There was nothing I could tell her even I wished to, which of course I did not, but there was no reasoning with her.”

“She called it a weapon. What kind?”

This part made Stevenson’s hands shake and his throat to go dry. “A…a mind-controlling substance.”

Nathaniel’s face took on an expression, which in part Stevenson recognised. He could see the man’s mind racing behind his eyes. “I wonder…Could the Red Sands be another part of the edwinite genet? It would be the most logical explanation.” Nathaniel snapped out of his moment of introspection, gaze alighting on Stevenson who almost jumped to be under the spotlight of such an intense stare. “They used it on you?”

No point in his denying it. Stevenson nodded. He rubbed his hands together. “Until that point I had not realised we were not alone. A cloaked figure stepped into the light. I could see nothing but his hands, but I knew he was Martian. I assume Kronos, but I don’t know. At his request, Lady Hyperion handed him a brass cylinder. A beautiful thing in its way, studded with gems. Kronos or who I assumed him to be, unscrewed one end with great care. It was full of minute red crystals.”

“The Red Sands of Vulcan,” Nathaniel said eerily echoing what Kronos had said and making Stevenson suppress a shudder despite the surrounding heat.

“That’s what he claimed. He talked of ancient manuscripts uncovered in Egypt, of how misuse of the sands bred derangement, divided the Drobates and led to a war that inadvertently created the asteroid belt. He claimed the sands in small doses had a…different effect. They forced some of the crystals into my mouth and down my throat. I tried to struggle but he was too strong.”

Ridiculous that he should carry guilt for his inability to fight and to find a way out of the mess, even though his own foolishness had got him into it. Carrying guilt was a way of punishing himself, a thing of which apparently Nathaniel would have no truck.

“It’s fine, Erasmus. You don’t need to go on. I know you gave nothing up for, as you say, you knew nothing.”

“No.” Stevenson reached for and grabbed Nathaniel’s hand. “There’s one more thing you need to know. Kronos wanted to kill me then but I was expected back at the base, and…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why. They let me go. They knocked me out once more, and when I next awoke I was back in Syrtis Major. They let me live so as not to draw attention to themselves. I don’t know what they thought, that if I told I wouldn’t be believed or what…I don’t know. The only thing I am sure of is that the Red Sands had no effect on me. Maybe Kronos was delusional and the crystals were nothing at all, or maybe something the Drobates had done to me made me immune… I do not know! I wish I did. That question as much as anything of what transpired has plagued me. It’s…mostly why I’ve said nothing. These questions seemed too personal to me somehow. I didn’t want to be stopped from…” He ran out of words, wishing he’d never spoken of this.

“You didn’t want anyone to stop you searching for those answers.”

Surprised, Stevenson met Nathaniel’s gaze, a relieved smile coming to his face.

Whether Nathaniel could see it well or not through the mask, the man reached out and grasped Stevenson by a shoulder. “You have my word I will say nothing to anyone, and will do nothing to prevent your search.”

Although still troubled some of his doubts slipped away. This was meant to be. His presence here felt akin to destiny.

10.

ABOVE THE EXPLORERS, SOVEREIGN loitered in the skies of Jupiter. On the bridge, Sub-lieutenant Christopher Barry was at the helm.

The ship gave a slight jolt.

“Report, coxswain.”

“There’s a slight storm coming up on starboard, sir.”

“Anything to worry about?”

“No, sir. Just need to compensate. Seems calm up ahead to port, sir.”

“Very well.”

Barry looked out at the majesty that was Jupiter as the ship moved and, at his command, dropped two kilometres. Up close, he likened the colour to pinkish sand but there were many tones, predominantly orange, some blues. Grey.

He moved his head, gaze sweeping over the swirling patterns that seemed to perform some celestial dance, in turns enveloping Sovereign in the strangest and prettiest kind of murk he had ever seen, and at other times thinning so that they seemed to drift though mist. When he looked back the grey area he had seen had grown larger and was not of the uniform colour it had first appeared.

Narrowing his gaze, Barry peered out, blinking a few times, attempting to clear his vision, trying to separate fact from illusion. Strange liquids and gasses really did coalesce to make pretty though bizarre patterns to fool the eye.

Blinking some more, expression now pinched in a frown, Barry caught himself leaning forwards. Was that…a rock? The pattern of movement made no sense. Unless it was caught in a particular current, and if that were the case it would be one to avoid.

A sharp intake of air hit the back of his throat as he realised what he was seeing. Another member of the crew visibly tensed, starting upright in his seat, and only then did Barry realise he’d gripped the man by the shoulder.

He didn’t let go. Stooping, he stared intently out of the viewing portal.

“Coxswain?” He must have given away his feelings for he suddenly had the attention of every man on the bridge. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

The gaze of every man turned to the vision ahead. Barry heard the man next to him swallow. No-one answered him but by their reactions they didn’t need to. The view out there was not his imagination.

His thoughts went at once to the men who had left the ship. For the time being they were on their own. There was no way to contact them.

God help them.

He gave the only command he could.

“Call the captain to the bridge.”

Chapter Five

1.

DESPITE THEIR INTUITION NEITHER Nathaniel nor Erasmus found what they expected. Their initial discovery was interesting, but not as miraculous as they anticipated.

“Not the first time you’ve found edifices with writing on, Professor,” Bedford said, tracing one of the symbols with a fingertip, referring to the monoliths within Phobos. “Any luck on deciphering them?”

“I understand them perfectly.”

“You do?” Bedford sounded suitably surprised.

“No, of course not.”

Bedford’s expression spoke of shock, irritation, embarrassment. Mostly irritation, though.

“Some of these signs…” Nathaniel continued before an argument could begin. “Some are similar to what we’ve seen before. Some completely different.”

The placement of the stone slabs, which too closely resembled Egyptian cartouches not to refer to them as such, were set in a circular formation in the interior of another cave. Despite the vastness of the space they had left behind, Nathaniel had the disquieting feeling that the entire centre of Jupiter conformed to some pattern he could not define. Kaplan had been right to judge the outer shell to align in such a way as to suggest a geometric shape. Nathaniel could not tell for certain whether it strictly adhered to the honeycomb configuration he had surmised, but he had been checking turns and counting steps enough to ascertain it had to be similar. This suggested a grander design that he found quite fascinating. The cartouches reminded him of the circular arrangement of standing stones he had discovered on Phobos. He had an overwhelming and fulfilling sense of something combining to create a whole, and was looking forward to the big reveal. In the meantime, he’d enjoy the secrets Jupiter had to divulge.

Giant ants on Luna. The dung beetles of Phobos. What would he find here? Walking, talking crabs perhaps. Whatever it was would be greater than he had ever envisioned. More than he’d hoped for.

First he had to decipher the cartouches and the limits of man’s minds were frustrating to him even if he were surrounded by some of the best. Orlondo and Kaplan were engrossed in collecting samples. Wollf was also taking specimens, although her interest was more along the lines of unseen life. Despite the findings on other worlds, she adhered to the scientific belief that most life on other worlds would evolve on the microscopic level. For now, Nathaniel had left them all to indulge their curiosity. No knowing whether they’d find something useful. Look where edwinite had brought them.

Erasmus was quite done in by the walk down here, and possibly by what he’d confessed. No doubt his telepathic ability had been helping to guide them as well and that all took its toll. Erasmus now rested along with Bedford’s other man and Orlondo. Despite his excitement, the portly man needed some respite that even his excitability could not provide.

Erasmus had asked if Nathaniel needed him, but he’d refused, softening the rejection he saw in Erasmus’s gaze with a smile and by telling him to conserve his strength. He’d also told Tally to take a break, saying he knew not when he’d need him and he’d want him awake when he did. Only then had the Irishman given in.

Even Nathaniel wondered where he’d found reserves of energy; he had eaten his share of the rations only to placate Bedford who had thrown up the argument of, “What would Annabelle say if you are not taking care of yourself?” Nathaniel had translated that to mean Bedford feared his wife would kill him if he didn’t make Nathaniel see sense. A meal was possible at least. He could tilt the mask up enough to, while holding his breath, open his mouth, pop food, or a drinking straw between his lips, and then drag the mask back in place before chewing.

He finished the last of his meal, if he could call it such, and moved on to the next plaque.

“No telling how long these have been here, but I can’t make them out.” He spoke softly, talking to himself.

Through the mask, his words must have been indistinguishable for Bedford said, “Excuse me?”

“Just thinking aloud.” Even using the few reference points he could understand, he immediately worked out this would take him weeks of study and he didn’t have time. He wasn’t about to tell Bedford that. He wasn’t going to leave until someone dragged him topside. “I need to look around.”

“Really, Professor, I appreciate—”

“With all respect, you don’t.” He didn’t have time to hear Bedford out. He stared at him. “Annabelle would.”

“And I’m quite sure she would have been on your side or already slipped away from me long before now.” Bedford’s eyes shone with love, swiftly chased away by an expression Nathaniel could not define. “But you need rest as much as any man.”

“I have no time. I require…” A clue. A means to decipher this code. “I need to look around. Don’t worry. I’ll take Tally with me.” Just as well he’d told the man to get a few minutes of sleep.

“My other two men have caught up. I can spare a crewman.”

“I’d rather have Tally.”

He could see Bedford didn’t like the idea, but Nathaniel was in charge of the research mission. It would not do for them to argue in front of the crew and even Bedford understood there was no point to any of them being out here without accepting the risks involved. At least that was how Nathaniel translated his acquiesce.

Nathaniel packed up his notebook, slipping it into a pocket, and went to kick an Irishman awake.

2.

ARNAUD TRIED NAPPING IN the medical room, believing he would find it more quiet and comfortable than his bunk, but after jolting awake after what apparently was a longer sleep than he’d believed, he told Doctor Beverly he was much refreshed and had duties to perform. Feeling worse than when he’d arrived, he went straight to his quarters. There, although most of the bunks were empty, two other men slumbered on an off-duty shift. A third, name of Marwick, who never appeared to sleep, lay on his bunk with his arms folded behind his head; he glanced over but then returned his stare to the ceiling, so Arnaud flung himself on the bed, laid back and closed his eyes. He had work to do but…

Actually, no, he didn’t. He had time in which there were no doubt small jobs and research he could tinker with, but until Nathaniel returned, there was nothing urgent. Waiting was an empty exercise so he might as well close his eyes, which even now were burning, and try to rest the irritating strain in his neck while he had the opportunity.

He tried, but one of the men started snoring. Gone was the luxury of having privacy. Gone too was the delight of sharing space with Nathaniel…although the way he was acting now, Arnaud wasn’t at all sure “delight” would be quite the word to use. Sharing a room, though…that would give them more chances to reconnect. Nathaniel wouldn’t have to fear discovery in quite the way he now seemed to; they could share intimacy once again, and that, perhaps, would go a long way to solving whatever was wrong with their relationship.

Was he truly losing Nathaniel so shortly after having found love?

It’s better to have loved than lost. That phrase was invented to try to comfort the sick at heart, although Arnaud knew those thoughts were inspired by his maudlin emotions. The words rang true to a point. He’d rather have known love for a short time than never share such a close connection, but to have Nathaniel turn so cold with small reason, that he couldn’t come to terms with. The man he had known would have forgiven him, so Nathaniel had to have other concerns. Small comfort; if Nathaniel had worries, Arnaud wished the man would share them.

The more Arnaud tried to stop thinking, the more thoughts spun in his mind and the less likely he was to snooze.

He opened his eyes to the sound of movement. Marwick was up, looking in his locker, back to Arnaud. At least Marwick never snored but then he never slept. He was a member of the science team, drafted from the disbanded Otterbein Base on Luna, but only worked in engineering, if whatever he did could be called work. He never had dirty hands, never looked tired. If questioned about his shift, he tended to be evasive. Arnaud had stopped asking and made a joke of his apparent inability or lack of need to sleep.

Marwick now closed his locker, and Arnaud closed his eyes to slits. When Marwick turned around, he gave the other occupants of the room what Arnaud could only describe as a shifty once over before walking to the door.

Quite unable to rest, Arnaud sat up the moment the door closed, hesitated another second only, and then stood. He went to the door, peered out long enough to see Marwick had already walked the length of the corridor. The moment he turned right, Arnaud followed.

By the time Arnaud popped his head around the corner, Marwick had quickened his pace. Arnaud ignored the temptation to give chase, not wanting Marwick to notice him or to draw the attention of other personnel. The longer the walk continued, the greater number of staff moved about them proving to be a hindrance, yet also acting as camouflage for Arnaud’s pursuit.

At one point Arnaud lost sight of his quest completely, but by this time had realised the man was heading to the engine room; he was able to go that way directly. So intent on catching up was Arnaud, he almost ran into Marwick as he rounded a corner. Fortunately, the man had his back to him, had stopped walking to avoid an approaching group, and Arnaud was able to blend in with them and head a short way down the corridor to the right before pretending to have forgotten something and heading back. No-one was paying him any attention and good thing, for he didn’t want to rely on his acting ability to pave the way for a new career as a spy. Although, when he gave thought to his adventures to date, he had to accept that the time to worry about taking part in clandestine activities had long since gone by.

Arnaud came close to engineering and slowed his pace. Really, what was he doing? Marwick’s destination was obvious and Arnaud’s movements on the ship restricted. No way would be he allowed in, and even if he could get past security he dreaded to think what would happen should news of his doing so get back to anyone in authority. Why bother following the crewman?

Because he wanted a distraction from feeling unwell, and from being apart from Nathaniel when the most romantic day of the year would be upon him in a few hours. From knowing that even if Nathaniel were here on the ship, romance would likely be the last thing on the professor’s mind, and because Arnaud had the tingling sense that the particularly peculiar hours Marwick kept had to be for a specific reason. He just couldn’t imagine what. Was it something only a few on the ship knew? Was Nathaniel keeping something from him? Something other than his love?

He stopped walking in a stretch of quiet, unattended corridor—one that served as a connection between one part of the ship and another. He’d already ventured too close to engineering. Getting caught here would not do him well.

Annoyed with his own stupidity, Arnaud made a sharp turn about…and almost walked into Jack Fenn.

3.

“A MAN NEEDS HIS SLEEP,” Tally grumbled.

“You could have remained on the ship,” Nathaniel told him.

That thought…really hadn’t entered his head. Tally blinked and stood still for a moment only, before hurrying after Nathaniel. If anyone else had awoken him from such a pleasant nap he’d have been truly upset. Stay on the ship? Naw. He couldn’t have had done that.

The professor used his long legs to easily traverse an outcropping of rock. Tally hastily scrambled after him. Something about Nathaniel brought out the protective streak in him, making him go above and beyond and all that. Damned if he could explain it. No doubt some mind doctor would hark back to his childhood experiences and blame his actions on the loss of a brother and having to learn to survive and to help his other siblings do likewise, but since when did doing the right thing need such close analysing? What he knew of Nathaniel Stone told Tally he followed a good man. Well, mostly good. Every man had a demon or two. For some it was tobacco. Others, drink. He couldn’t get his head around the professor’s most secret desires, but never mind that. Until he worked it out in his head and heart both, he’d follow his instincts. Maybe one day Nate would move on to better ways. Maybe Tally could even steer him on the right path. All those concerns were for another time, and even if that was not to be, Tally wasn’t leaving Nathaniel’s side. No-one was perfect. Everything told him Nathaniel needed keeping safe. The man could be quite reckless.

“I only got me thirty winks,” he grumbled in earshot of Nathaniel as he reached his side.

“You can sleep when you’re dead, Tally,” Nathaniel said with a smile. The mask on his face was a little cloudy but Tally could make out such a broad grin right enough.

“Aye, but I don’t plan on doing that any time soon. Ow! Feckin’ hell.” Tally shook out his hand. “What makes fer some of these here rocks being so hot?”

“Probably Jupiter’s core.”

“That explains all.” It very much didn’t, but Tally was no learned man and he was sure whatever scientific explanation Nathaniel might launch into would make things as clear as the breath on their masks. “What are we looking fer, and why am I searching fer it wid’ ya?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but you’re with me because no sensible man goes wandering off alone, and I need to prove to Bedford I can be sensible.”

Tally thought about that for a moment or two and then laughed. “Then that might make two of us. I’m the eejit that’s here wid’ ya. So what’re those things ya found back there? I heard ya say Car…tooth?”

“Cartouche. I don’t suppose you know anything about Egypt.”

“Ah…well, no. Bit far from Dublin. So these…these car…” He struggled with the word and then got it out. “…touche things are Egyptian?”

“No. That is…I could surmise they are based on Egyptian cartouches, but it’s more likely that those are derived from these on Jupiter.”

Tally screwed his face up while thinking this over. “What are this touche things fer, anyways?”

“Kings would write their names in what we call hieroglyphs—picture symbol writing—and then encircle them with a design we know as a cartouche, with an oval ring of rope tied at one end, although often it just appears as a ring, or in other ways. Basically the point is to encircle.”

“Huh? To what feckin’ purpose?”

“Symbolism. The king’s rule of the universe as a whole, much like the way the sun shines on everything. A ring can mean eternity or protection.”

“So the king protecting his subjects?”

“That…or, I’m inclined to believe, it was more like Heaven protecting the king. His god protecting him, and elevating his position on Earth. Sometimes it’s possible to find the name of a particular god within the cartouche.”

“Guess these kings thought a lot of ’emselves.”

“Don’t all such men?”

Tally grimaced. “Just so. Tis sadly true.”

They walked on a way in silence over a particularly rocky incline.

“Egyptian cartouches. How the feckin’ hell could that be? To be sure I get what yer saying an’ all, but…” Tally shrugged, trying to express a concept that felt too big for his mind. He even glanced back as if he could see the stone tablets. How old were they? How long had they been here? He asked the next question that popped into his mind. “Why? What are those things doing here?”

Nathaniel stopped moving, took a moment as if to stretch a kink out of his back. He appeared to be thinking and Tally gave him time to work through his thoughts. “Solar symbolism is implicated in many cartouches, so that it seems quite possible that we would find such symbols out here, but on Jupiter?”

“Drobates?” Tally suggested thinking back to the first time he’d seen one. What he’d hated most was the bluish-grey skin so thin as to be opaque. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of all those arteries and veins on show beneath. “Ya told me that they had an influence on Earth religions—the names of those Hearts and the Luna deities, fer instance. I mean, blimey. If an’ yer right an’ all, then a lot of our history could have come from elsewhere.” Influence was one thing, but how much they had yet to discover of how other life forms could have manipulated Earth’s history gave a shiver to his spine.

“I can think of no other explanation, but the little I can make out…” Nathaniel shook his head again. “I cannot see Drobates of the type we’ve already encountered bothering, and if there are others with a higher intelligence it stands to reason they are above such things. The plaques are quite crude compared to anything else we’ve discovered, although…” He glanced around. “If they were restricted to using what was here, that’s understandable. It doesn’t explain why we’ve seen no other signs of their presence or how they died off, or left. I do not believe these tablets represent the same imagery as they would on Earth. Not entirely, anyway.”

“What likenesses did yer see?”

Nathaniel glanced down at him. “Sometimes you are more astute than the men in charge.”

“Aye well, Bedford would no doubt have asked if he wasn’t trying to tiptoe ’round ya so careful like.” Tally shrugged. “I’ve a feeling the absence of his misses has thrown yer friendship for a loop.”

“Definitely too astute,” Nathaniel said, apparently without malice.

“Nothing getting together and a few pints a Guinness down yer necks wouldn’t fix.” He was hoping to provoke Nathaniel to laughter but the professor was once again lost in his thoughts.

“There are solar connotations on those slabs. That and uraei.”

“Ur…what?”

“Sacred serpent. Only it’s not that. It’s as if I have the answer on the tip of my tongue. Sod it all, Tally, but it’s frustrating.”

The lapse in the professor’s speech into one to Tally’s own phrases made the Irishman grin as he followed along.

They fell into silence as the terrain grew more uneven. Tally broke into a sweat. Although he’d never have been able to move at this pace or as well in the atmosphere suit, Tally found he wished for its protection when, pausing to wipe a hand over his face, he succeeded in rubbing dust and grit into his skin. His hands were caked where he’d been grabbing hold of rocks to help pull himself up. For all he knew he had just rubbed a colony of alien life-forms into his complexion.

He thought back to where he’d first met Nate at The Bleeding Horse public house. While he did so, he lifted the face mask enough to wipe the back of his hand over his mouth. Bloody hell but they grew warm on the face, fogged up with condensation from every breath. He could do with a pub that served Guinness about now. Perish the thought, but water would have to suffice and as their surrounds had grown warmer he’d already drunk half of the small supply he’d brought along. There was more back with the men.

“Ain’t we best be starting back?” As much as he admired Nathaniel Stone, and he wasn’t unfit, he couldn’t see anything but bluff desolation down here. What could the professor hope to discover?

“I just want to take a look over there. Take a seat, Tally. I won’t be gone long.”

Tally looked to where Nate indicated and nodded his consent. He’d be able to watch from here, and with those long legs this was one occasion where the professor would move faster without him.

4.

NATHANIEL LOOKED BACK TO where the other man was sitting, guzzling now and then at his water supply and no wonder; the terrain grew increasingly hot. Nathaniel took off his jacket, fished out a kerchief and wiped his brow. Then he took a drink.

What to do next? Something had pulled him in this direction, but he knew not what and of what he’d hoped to find there was no sign. Maybe Tally was right and they should head back. Bedford might have already sent men after them; they’d been gone for some time.

Nathaniel Stone hated the idea of being thwarted.

Determination or plain stubbornness kept him standing there another minute. Beneath the mask he chewed on his lower lip, mind racing with indecision.

While he waited for inspiration, he began to feel a vibration under his feet.

What it was to be right. Even though he’d also been wrong.

So many had disputed the concept of Jupiter having any ground so he’d yielded the point. For the sake of the mission he’d said, putting on a gracious front. He’d declared a hope that he was wrong, and smiled with fake cheer when his deductions had been proven off target, though not completely incorrect. The discovery of an inner world much like those on some of the other planets made his job easier. The fact that it moved less so. He’d thought they were past that but as the ground shifted a little under his feet he had to accept the possibility of some instability in the rock and the chance of a volcanic core.

This inner layer at least allowed investigation, but it apparently suffered from tremors, although this was the first he’d been aware of such. The uneven surface made Nathaniel’s work all the more difficult and time-consuming. Ahead was yet another incline. He heard the ghost of Orlondo’s voice; the Spaniard saying how Nathaniel was best suited to this job. “You can put those long legs to good use, si?”

Some influence seemed to think so. Call it intuition or instinct or, for all he knew, telepathy, something made him want to carry on in that direction. To do so, he’d have to leave Tally behind. He’d have to spend time making his way up the other side. Which meant he’d have to do the same in reverse when rejoining the group, and the longer he was gone the more Bedford would stew. Some of that was just the man being a commanding officer, but Nathaniel suffered the nagging sense that something else was going on here. Of course, he hadn’t helped their relationship, but Bedford’s feelings were not his to worry about. The man wasn’t the only one wishing Annabelle was part of this journey. Her persistence at dashing off seemed to invite peril, but often brought results. Maybe she would have found what he was looking for…whatever that something turned out to be.

Nathaniel looked back the way he had come, longing to rejoin the others, wishing he could resist the temptation to venture further afield. Wishing his existence could be that simple.

He’d started out with good reasons, one of which was a desire to be alone for a time. He would have been glad of some solitude, but knowing Bedford would insist he take someone along, he’d chosen Tally. Standing here now, dithering whether to return to him or leave the man cursing to sprint in his wake, Nathaniel experienced another rare moment of his emotions fluctuating out of control. He was two beings at once—cool calm intellect at war with all the frailties of being human. It was almost as if he had to choose which to be. Right now he knew which would serve him well and it wasn’t the imperfect side of humanity.

Nathaniel began to pick his way down the uneven rock face. He slipped once, bashing his ankle quite badly. Fearing the worse, he tested the next step, but aside from a little soreness, which he was able to work out by rotating the joint, he’d sustained little damage.

The same could not be said for his apparel for, a little further down, the sound of ripping was followed by a curse he would not have uttered in polite society. If he remained here for more than their intended duration he’d be returning to Sovereign looking like the proverbial castaway.

A memory popped into his head of Kaplan at Otterbein Base appearing before him covered in black, a result of excavating, yet apparently overjoyed despite his dishevelled state. Nathaniel attempted to smile at his appearance so as not to make Kaplan the better man.

Having finally reached the bottom of the incline, Nathaniel began his ascent. Although the task was more arduous, the pathway was clear and easier. Indeed, if not having to breathe through the recirculation unit, Nathaniel would not have struggled. Heaving himself over the last ridge, he took a moment to run his tongue around the inside of his mouth, then to swallow the metallic taste of saliva. He craved a drink but not only should he conserve his water supply, the reprieve provided by the liquid would not last long enough to warrant taking one.

He glanced back and could see Tally standing. He was sure the Irishman shook his head. Was the gesture one of admonishment, or was Tally telling him not to continue?

Maybe this was a fool’s errand—setting off on nothing more than a hunch. He couldn’t be sure whether he just followed hope or the voice of Kaskuu.

Nathaniel looked up with some surprise to see that the path ahead had levelled out and for several hundred feet at least the way would be easier, but that last incline had tired him.

Sitting between two pointed ridges in the rocky surface, Nathaniel took the time to open his flask. Then he moved the mouthpiece out of the way far enough to enable him to drink. He used a mere dab of liquid on a kerchief to wipe his brow and face, and then put his breathing piece back into place. He’d managed to hold his breath that long and waited for a few more seconds before breathing again to allow the edwinite in the filter to do its job and clear any toxic fumes that had found their way inside. Wouldn’t do to risk even a gasp of Jupiter’s inner atmosphere. The human body was so very frail as he’d learned only too well.

The might of Jupiter came crashing down on him. How small was man? How tiny was he in this framework of bone, muscle, and skin? Man’s greatest power seemed to be his intellect and yet it was trapped within. Such thoughts led him to think of Arnaud, and all the man had been through.

He’d left Arnaud back on the ship, without explanation for he’d not had one to give. He could have argued with the captain, probably sacrificed one or two other members of his team and had them removed from this mission instead. The truth was he’d chosen Kaplan over Arnaud and the reason…was a good one. Again instinct told him so. Back at Otterbein Base, he’d been quite put out not having Arnaud to work with, although Kaplan was as excellent a substitute as he could hope for in his place. That had nothing to do with why he’d brought Kaplan along instead. He just wasn’t sure why, but he would. As strange as it seemed, he was sure. His conviction of that was as strong as the desire to continue. In time, his actions would be clear to all. What would they think of him then?

What would he think of himself?

Now was not the time for such ruminations and his thoughts to go flipping about. He allowed a moment of silent respect, nonetheless, during which he looked sideways and realised Tally was following his path. The man would be hard pushed to catch up if Nathaniel forged ahead. Nathaniel couldn’t wait. His time here was limited and as well as the mission… How could he ignore the king of planets?

He looked around once more, taking in the sights for the first time, truly noting differences in the structure of the rock. Why, the very piece he sat on was unlike anything he’d seen. Grey-brown, leathery to the touch, with striations that made him think of scales. Perhaps he should chip a piece off to take back to the ship. Take something back personally to Arnaud. Something to show to Erasmus.

Nathaniel stood and got out his tools, selecting a small hammer such as Orlondo would use. He closed up his pack before using the instrument to strike a blow. The rock did not give way, but the ground vibrated again.

Surprised and puzzled, Nathaniel stood. Had he done that? Surely such a little strike… He shook his head, amused with his own thoughts. Of course he’d not caused any damage with such a weak blow. As if to prove it, he struck again, waited, and when nothing happened, smiled, and set about chipping a piece of the formation free.

As a large scale-shaped piece came away, the ground heaved.

By all the…

Nathaniel had not thought that any of the floating land masses could exist down here. They seemed restricted to the space between the outer core and the upper atmosphere.

This time the shuddering was so great, the force propelled him from his feet. For a time, Nathaniel lay there dazed, aware of a vibration, of the ground pitching beneath him. When his focus cleared enough, the first thing he did was to check that his breathing mask remained in place.

He then scrambled to his knees. The abrupt uncontrolled movement had ceased, but Nathaniel could see that the surface upon which he knelt was now elevated. He waited to see if it was safe to stand, afraid he might be immediately launched off his feet. If he broke the breathing tube… He didn’t want to consider that.

A trickling sensation had him pressing fingers against his brow. His hand came away tacky with blood. So he had reopened the cut. He pressed his kerchief over the graze to stem the flow.

Way to go. The great explorer brains himself. Tally would have a laugh. Or maybe not. The man did seem to concern himself with Nate’s safety.

He felt glad of that concern, when the ground under his feet gave him another shove. Nathaniel had risen to one knee, was about to push up; the undulation of the rock threw him to one side. This time he landed on his hands, grazing the skin. Softly cursing the interruption of his exploration, he considered that it might be best to return to the others or at least backtrack far enough to wait while this quake petered out and whatever had disturbed Jupiter—he refused to think it was his mere chipping out of one piece of rock—settled.

No sooner had he made up his mind that he had no option when the rock beneath him began to rise.

Wary of being trapped at the pinnacle, Nathaniel made a desperate leap, one hand clutching the respirator mask, the other outstretched to aid a safe landing, which he turned into a roll.

The idea worked to a degree. He clinched his teeth against the jarring numbness that ran up his leg from landing full weight on an ankle, and grunted when a twist pushed him onto his right shoulder. Still, the move saved him from broken bones as far as he could tell, and by some miracle he did not bash his head. The smaller pains he ignored. He rotated to see what changes had occurred to the landscape and by what means his retreat might be cut off; the sight widened his eyes.

The land was still moving upwards, but as small rocks fell away, the solid mass began to take shape. The first thought to flash through Nathaniel’s mind was reptile, followed by a vaguer thought of dinosaur. He recalled the symbols on the cartouche and then thought snake. Any and all seemed to fit. Something serpent-like raised its head, revealing jaws of widely spaced serrated teeth…incisors of a length to match Nathaniel’s height.

That great v-shaped skull swung over him, jaws snapping, tongue flickering, nostrils flaring, and eyes glinting. His gaze went up and up and up until he stared at the ridges that ran from the back of its head. He followed their path, increasing and then decreasing in size along the length of its spine to the tip of its tail. One protuberance on the crest was missing a scale.

So he had awoken this…beast. If it stooped its head for a snack he was a small morsel of a feast, but there would be nothing he could do about its eating him. This great…thing was a giant crocodile with wings.

As the great creature gave a shake, it took a step, unfurled great leathery flaps.

A dragon.

He was staring at the closest thing man had ever seen to a real live dragon. This was an animal of fairy tales and folklore; a myth. The fact of its presence threw everything mankind had known about every fable into stark relief.

Nathaniel felt a fierce longing for Annabelle. What she wouldn’t give for a sight of this, a discovery of the age, even if it was one of many. What was this beast? A creation of a Watcher? Something created for a specific purpose? If so what was the use of such a creature in a place like this? How did it breathe?

To think he’d thought he’d seen such things before, but the opeme he’d encountered in the Venusian jungle were not like this.

The animal gave another shake, great head swinging in a wavering arc. It appeared…dazed. Perhaps if he remained motionless it wouldn’t notice him. He gave a passing thought to Tally and hoped the creature wouldn’t spot the Irishman.

Nathaniel lay propped on one elbow, taking shallow breaths and hoping the dragon would fly away. In the quiet moment he took time to catalogue details. The thick spines led down to the very tip of an arrowhead tail. It stood on all fours, but the front legs were somewhat shorter and although only slightly thinner were somehow more refined. He could not call the appendages hands, but he could surmise they had more dexterity than those on the hind quarters. Either way, all four…paws ended in thick talons. Two of the fanged teeth put him in mind of a snake and his naturally inquisitive mind couldn’t help wondering whether the creature had venom capabilities.

None of those back at camp were going to believe this. Not even with Tally’s added testimony.

Then again, maybe he’d never get a chance to tell them. As Nathaniel turned his head so too did the dragon.

His clothes were dusty, his hair was red. The colours of his outfit, skin and hair, pretty much blended in with the terrain, and the movement he’d made was exceedingly small. Surely the reptile hadn’t seen him move?

It took a step.

Nathaniel held his breath.

The creature’s gaze swung from right to left and back again as though it were scanning the area. Lungs beginning to strain, still Nathaniel didn’t dare breathe. He lay there hoping Tally had the sense to hide.

He didn’t have to worry about Tally; he had every reason to worry about himself.

The damn thing’s staring at me.

He was sure of it. Still, if he remained motionless, maybe…

The dragon took another step, making the ground shake where Nathaniel lay. He held still a moment longer, but the creature was already raising a leg and about to move closer. Whether it had spotted him, if he didn’t move soon he was going to be squashed as flat as the sliced bacon Tally loved so much.

Nathaniel scurried back on his elbows out of the way, aware the creature cocked its head and set its gaze very much on him. He turned as soon as he was clear and as he moved he saw that great jaw come unhinged. The creature opened its mouth, a long forked tongue flickering behind white daggers. Of the rest Nathaniel saw no more, only felt and heard the beast’s warm breath and thundering roar as its rage washed over him. He rolled over, scrambling up as he did.

He had long legs and was no stranger to running. If there was a small tunnel into which to duck maybe he could escape, but he was at once aware of the futility of that thought as the world around him shook. Somehow, he stayed on his feet, but the beast bore down on him. Still he might…

As the ground grew still and Nathaniel heard a great whup whup, he risked a look knowing what he would see even as he glanced back. The creature rose, streaked towards him, great maul opening.

Nathaniel tried at the last to throw himself out of the way. The world turned on him, spun him around, and as he tumbled he thought for one brief second he had succeeded. Then the light grew dim and Nathaniel gazed out at a diminishing world from behind a great cage of teeth.

5.

“DOCTOR FONTAINE…SIR?”

Jack Fenn gave him a slow nod. At least he wasn’t screaming for security, so that was promising. The engineer tilted his head to one side.

“You lost yourself?”

Arnaud ignored the urge to tell him, non, he was right here. Fenn’s tone revealed he in no way believed Arnaud had taken a wrong turn…not by accident, anyway. Arnaud plastered a friendly smile on his face. At least that was his intent. He couldn’t tell what impression the grin might actually project.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Fenn. Walking off a headache.”

“Never used walking as a remedy myself.” Fenn was now staring, his gaze far too shrewd. “Give me one reason why we should exchange words before I call security.”

“Why would you do that? I’m just taking a walk on the ship.”

“Parts of which are off-limits to certain crew members.”

“I’m not in a restricted zone.”

“Extremely close to one.”

Arnaud shrugged. “I would say non. The length of a piece of string is…”

Jack Fenn started shaking his head. “No wandering off the subject, please.” He tilted his head to the other side now, looking down the corridor in the direction Arnaud had been heading. “Why would you be following Marwick?”

“I…” Arnaud searched his mind, found no satisfactory way to prevaricate. “You make a mistake. I was lost in thought. I was caught in…” In what? The other man’s wake? He considered explaining he and Marwick slept in the same quarters but couldn’t decide whether that would implicate him more or less, and while he calculated, seconds were ticking by in which Fenn grew more suspicious.

“Is it so surprising I would be lost in thought and find myself to have wandered from the path when our Professor Stone leaves me out of our first major mission since we left Earth?” Arnaud took a step to the left planning to march off in a huff, but Fenn stepped in front cutting him off.

“I thought you had stayed behind because of your health.”

“Aside from a few ailments I am doing passing well. More than passing. Doctor Beverly has been taking very good care of me.” Owing to his numerous scheduled and spontaneous check-ups, Arnaud was less surprised that Fenn would know some of the particulars of his health than that Fenn would question him. “I have not gone down to Jupiter because Nathaniel took Kaplan in my place.” He had to say something and he was disgruntled enough about this to put it to use.

Fenn’s mouth pulled to one side in a flash of a sneer and his expression changed. “Promised I could go too, and then let me down at the last minute. Another time, he says.” Fenn clearly doubted the possibility.

“Why would he take you?” Seeing Fenn was none too happy with the way Arnaud asked, he added, “I mean, why an engineer?”

“I don’t know. Said there might be call for one.”

Arnaud laughed softly. Inspiration struck. “So he’s abandoned us both. Watch your back, Fenn, or next he’ll ban you from the engine room too.” He saw what he hoped for—a flash of surprise light up Fenn’s face.

“Stone banned you?”

“Doesn’t trust how I’ll behave if further exposed to the edwinite. No-one else agrees. I was fine before. There’s a big difference from being close to it and having it injected into your system.” He didn’t know how much of this Fenn knew but his revelation spread shock over Fenn’s face, caused the man to take a step back.

“I dare say.” The engineer appeared to be working his way through a quandary and Arnaud let him.

Fenn took a step around Arnaud to stare down the corridor, before turning back. He looked Arnaud up and then down, then gazed first one way then the other. He took a step closer, lowered his voice. “Had you continued following, you would have noticed that our friend does not enter engineering by the normal route.”

What? Why would Fenn tell him this?

As if Jack Fenn read his mind, his expression appeared first examining and then finally decided. “I know what it is to be accused, right or…wrong… Sometimes the things we do are difficult to avoid. We act on good reasons at the time even if we regret them. Sometimes people don’t have a choice.”

Was Fenn trying to make friends with him? Arnaud could not be certain, and he didn’t know whether to trust the other man, but he supposed he could see how they shared a kind of camaraderie on that score. He gave Fenn a noncommittal nod.

“I don’t know everything of what’s happened to you, much less than I would like, and much more than I should, most like. One thing I am sure of though.” Fenn looked into Arnaud’s eyes. “I do the best I can by any ship I’m on. There’s something going on in engineering I don’t know the details of, and I don’t like those in charge messing about in places men like me are responsible for.”

Arnaud could see where Fenn might be going with this. “Their error, your problem.”

“That’s about the size of it. So I’ve been wanting to know what those like Marwick are getting up to in areas of the ship that shouldn’t be their concern. See, I could understand the Prof…I mean Professor Stone…and the like improving the workings of the engine room, but these… Marwick and men like him they aren’t qualified to be down there at all. Not that I can tell. They don’t seem to do anything.”

Which was much as Arnaud had figured out, but not qualified? He’d assumed they were acting as research assistants to those who were. He said so now.

“No. That ain’t it. Not it at all. I’ve not known what to do about it myself. Tried to talk to Boswell but he’s happy to just keep the ship up to speed. Happy to not trouble his mind with what the posh lot are doing, and has no wish to get involved. I don’t blame him. Used to be that way myself. But then today I seen you, and you’re following one of those something in my gut tells me not to trust at all.” Fenn took another step, which placed him uncomfortably close. “So, sir? What should we do?”

Was this a test? Fontaine dithered and apparently did so just long enough to make Fenn smile.

“That’s what I thought. Let me show you something I discovered a few nights ago.”

Fenn turned and walked off. Arnaud almost turned around to scurry in the other direction. He would have done if his head hadn’t started to pound again. His instincts told him to follow Jack Fenn, and he knew the steady thump thump thump in his skull wasn’t going to ease until he satisfied his curiosity.

6.

TALLY FELL FOR THE umpteenth time, on this occasion staying down on his knees for a few moments before forcing himself up. His breath laboured as he staggered ahead, the air in the mask growing uncomfortably warm.

The feckin’ thing irritated him so much, he wanted to grab it and throw it away, but that would be casting his life aside, and he knew what Nathaniel Stone would say about that. Back in Dublin he’d crawled out of a hole in the ground with the professor and he wasn’t going to…to….

Tally choked back his grief. He wasn’t going to diminish the man and his memory by giving in now.

He carried on, retracing their steps, trying to shake off images of the ground stirring, rising, toppling Nathaniel off his feet, and that…thing. He couldn’t even work out where it came from. Had it crawled out of the ground? Had Nathaniel been walking on it, mistaken it as part of the landscape? Tally had done the same in that case. He’d seen no evidence of it until it just…emerged, and by that time he’d been on the tail end of it and it had flipped him over. When he’d struggled up, the creature had already been chasing down the professor, and, and… Tally shuddered at the thought of what must have gone through the professor’s mind at the last.

He could see the camp. Someone was waving. Or maybe it was just his swaying. Tally didn’t seem to be able to walk straight. He must look drunk to the others.

He saw a face. Kaplan running towards him. Bedford. The man was on Kaplan’s heels. Wollf frowned, creases appearing in that usually so smooth almost expressionless but pretty face. That more than anything seemed to indicate how Tally’s world, even the meaning of his being here, had changed.

Tally sunk to his knees. He wanted to claw his fingers into his hair, maybe even weep and wail, but he was a stronger man than that. Just, in this instant, he wished he weren’t.

He swallowed, looked up into Bedford’s confused anxious face. Opened his mouth to tell him what had happened, and hesitated. He didn’t see how anyone would ever believe him, but that wasn’t what gave him pause. To say it made it true.

Nate was dead. Swallowed by some gigantic beastie. Feckin hell! That was no way for a man to go.

He looked up at Bedford and indicated his helplessness with a simple shake of his head.

Chapter Six

1.

NATHANIEL HUNG ON INSIDE the dragon. There was no use his calling it anything else. He didn’t care to argue over whether a beast that had swallowed him whole should exist.

He had his eyes so tightly closed he couldn’t see what he clung to, but it was hard and long and he had a feeling that somehow he’d managed to slip between a gap in the creature’s teeth, one large enough for him to wrap his arms around without being bitten. He was soaked in something sticky and wet, and…arrghhh…something long and soft that could only be the creature’s tongue slid over him.

He tried to work out where the damn animal was going, and only noticed when it changed trajectory because the motion threw him in short side to side bursts that did strange things to his stomach.

He struggled against being sick, for that would mean his having to remove the mask. If he took it off, he’d likely die from the noxious fumes of Jupiter, or what accounted for the creature’s breath. Halitosis did not begin to describe the smell which somehow seemed to penetrate even his breathing apparatus. He likened it to a mix of sulphur and rotting meat.

Maybe he should let go, fall into the creature’s stomach and be done with it. If the beast headed into the upper levels and, once there, opened its mouth, he was dead anyway. Fortunately, it would happen so fast he’d likely know little of his death—this time!

Laughter bubbled up. He had the choices of a terrible but swift death in the upper atmosphere of Jupiter, a horrible one inside the stomach of a dragon, or he could remove his face mask and…he didn’t know what. Suffocating would be kind. He had no sure way to know what the creature’s breath or the internal atmosphere of Jupiter would do to him, but neither would be pleasant.

How many times could one man cheat death? Erasmus seemed to think he was on this journey for a reason—one he wasn’t even sure truly existed, but he was happy to be patient and see. Nathaniel had chosen this. Didn’t matter who had given him orders, or what series of circumstances led him to here. He’d chosen more often than not. Would he have struggled with so much had he known it would come to this?

Inside the beast, Nathaniel considered death; decided he wasn’t ready for it. The thought of his possible demise didn’t even weigh as heavily as it might have because he couldn’t get past the miracle of his still being alive, now, in the mouth of something quite extraordinary and amazing.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to dance and whoop.

All he could do in reality was hang on for the duration of the ride and see whether fate intervened.

2.

THE DOOR WAS SMALL, set into a wall between a row of pipes, essentially invisible to view. It had not a handle, but a small place to put a key. Jack Fenn had no key but he had put together the right tools. He set about opening the lock without damaging it. When Fenn noticed Arnaud looking, he said, “Ask no questions. Doesn’t take as much skill as people think to open most locks.”

“I believe you, but how did you come across this door? It really is in the most unlikely spot.”

Jack considered ratting on Katharina Wollf. She had followed another staff member here and entered engineering in pretty much the same way they were gaining entry now, with one large difference. Their reasons for doing so couldn’t be more dissimilar. Wollf had been looking for a way to ingratiate herself with some of the crew. Fenn was looking to discover more clandestine activities than a card game. He wondered at his doing so, experienced some surprise as to his level of annoyance of being left behind, but also reasoned what he discovered might be for the good of Sovereign and those on board.

Maybe there was something Wollf hadn’t revealed, although she’d denied exploring the restricted areas and Fenn was inclined to believe her. She hadn’t had time the other night—he’d seen her up top and the time between that and bumping into her left her a narrow margin. After the game he had crept out this way with her, seen her pick the lock. He was no fool—not entirely anyway. The other night might not have been her first visit, however his judgement could be impaired by attraction. Only in his dreams did he consider the possibility of a woman like Katharina liking him. Wollf’s reason for making friends was to lessen her number of enemies. Not all the men liked women on the ship, and life for a woman, particularly one of non-British descent, could be hard on this trip. Reluctantly, he’d taken the tools she’d used from her with a sorrowful, “I can’t let you do that again.” She had nodded in apparent understanding, but Jack would miss her at the game.

What would she think to know he had kept the picks? He couldn’t worry about that now. He felt the lock give and stood.

Before he opened the door, he glanced at Fontaine. “I’ve been a bit nervous to attempt this by myself, I have to admit.”

Fontaine grimaced. “Wonder if we’ll share the brig.”

Jack would have laughed, but he couldn’t risk the sound carrying. Still, he hesitated.

“Why are you waiting? The longer we stand here…” Fontaine didn’t have to continue. The longer they hesitated, the greater the risk of discovery.

“Just ’cos I’m doing this, don’t mean I have to like it.” There was more to it than that. As Fenn opened the door to a slither big enough to peer through, ascertained the way was clear, slipped in and allowed Fontaine to follow him before pulling the door shut again, he had just enough seconds in which to consider and accept that he didn’t like the idea of what they might discover, but he had to find out, no matter the consequences.

What were those in charge doing to Sovereign?

3.

“HAD ONE TOO MANY if you ask me.”

Bedford heard the comment and demanded the officer’s name, rank, and serial number. In reality he already knew them, but took some satisfaction in seeing the man snap to attention. He told him to report to him back on Sovereign at such a time when he could discuss a possible reprimand with the captain. The trouble was, he feared that the captain would privately agree with the seaman.

Tally claimed to have seen a dragon.

Taking himself off to the side, Bedford tried the SAW again. A foolhardy gesture no doubt. If Stone were alive then surely he’d try to get in touch, but he could have lost the SAW, or it might have broken. He could be lying hurt and injured.

Dead.

So much for keeping promises, and even a passing thought of Stone dead made Bedford feel guilty. He guessed that meant he wasn’t a bad man and he could be forgiven. He just wasn’t sure he would forgive himself.

The men had become strangely silent at the astonishing tale Tally had to unfold. So they wouldn’t dwell, Bedford had swiftly ordered them back to work. He’d sent a couple to check for signs of Stone, but when they returned they spoke only of the torn landscape as Tally had described. Unfortunately, that hardly counted as evidence. Without anything to track, they had no clue which way to even send a rescue team. Tally claimed the dragon had taken off in flight having swallowed the professor whole. If that were true, there was no way to pursue a creature that had flown away, and no way the professor could be alive.

Even if Tally had hallucinated, they’d found nothing to follow. Without any clues, there was little Bedford could do but continue with the main investigation. He asked Quintana for advice regarding the research team, and agreed that while Kaplan continued to collect samples, Quintana would take rubbings of the cartouches with Stevenson’s help.

All this was completed in a sort of hush as if none dared make a sound. Were they afraid they’d bring Tally’s fabled dragon down on them? Or were they scared of taking Stone’s ghost with them back to the ship?

Bedford realised he was once again trying the SAW even though the exercise seemed pointless. He just didn’t want to admit defeat.

Annabelle. How in the universe was he going to explain this to Annabelle? If he were to reveal the truth about Stone and Fontaine would that harden her heart a little towards the professor, make his loss easier to bare? Or would she turn on him, her husband, in some way be it in defence, a refusal to believe, or would she feel it wrong of Bedford to bring it up at all when the man had died?

He still didn’t know whether she had any knowledge of Stone’s depravity, could only hope that if she did, her continued association with Stone and Fontaine had been borne out of other things—the good of the mission, pity perhaps. Maybe a hope to change him, or a simple refusal to accept. He could not believe his Annabelle would ever condone such behaviour, and even for her the subject was too delicate so he hoped never to have to bring it up. He decided then that he would indeed protect Stone’s reputation even if he was in reality dead. He would let Annabelle grieve and be done with it.

That emotion at least was a normal part of being human. Fortunately, it would be over a year before he had to face her and impart such sad tidings, but Fontaine was back on the ship. In a matter of hours Bedford would have to try to explain Stone’s death. He neither relished the idea nor sympathised, but he was not looking forward to imparting such bad news so early on in the trip. Calamitous news. There was no way to know what impact the loss of Professor Stone would have on the rest of their journey, what part his loss might have on the success or failure of their mission.

The nature of the assignment meant they must take risks, and Theobald was going to love this.

He tried the SAW again, speaking calmly, wanting to shout, aware others knew what he was about. He put the thing away on his belt with a sense of embarrassment.

If Stone were able to use his SAW and was within range, he’d call in. Until he received such a signal, he had to assume Stone was dead.

Bedford suppressed his turbulent emotions and turned back to the job, only to bump into Stevenson.

“We’ve finished taking the rubbings as you requested, sir.” The man spoke politely, but his voice was low, his features pinched.

Of course; the young officer had been assigned to Professor Stone aboard Sovereign way back on that first mission to Luna, but if he had any feelings over the loss of Stone, Bedford’s place wasn’t to comfort young officers. The whole team was somewhat subdued, though loss came with the job. As long as Stevenson could function, that would have to be good enough.

“Good. I’ve another task for you both.”

They had some time left and more exploring to do.

“Aye, sir. Very good, sir.” Stevenson fell into step. “Sir?” He lowered the pitch of his voice as if imparting some secret.

“Yes, Stevenson?”

“If…I were to say that if the professor was dead I would know it, would that sound ridiculous to you, sir?”

Bedford almost took a false step. “Yes, Stevenson, it would.” He halted and looked the man in the eyes, barely able to understand what exactly the Drobates had done to Stevenson during his seven months of captivity. That they had changed him was without doubt. “I’d also have to say it doesn’t sound as mad as it might.” Bedford glanced over in the direction he had last seen the professor as he’d headed off on what might have turned out to be the last adventure of his life. “All I can tell you right now is that the professor has a day left. Should he by some miracle return, let’s see if we can find something wondrous for him to examine. Any…hunches?”

4.

NATHANIEL OPENED HIS EYES a smidge and saw that he was tucked into the side of the dragon’s mouth, soaked in saliva and sandwiched between teeth and tongue. The reason he was able to hang on was that the creature was missing a few molars.

He clutched a tooth, curled up like some crumb lodged in the reptile’s mouth. He wouldn’t have been surprised if that great tongue were to flick to one side and cast him out, but…all was still.

Nathaniel strained his senses, trying to detect movement. Nothing. No sensation of flight, of lurching back and forth, swaying, or direction. The creature once more lay motionless. Nathaniel could feel nothing but the fact of his being wet, but he could hear, and he could see.

Th-thump.

A long pause ensued before that noise repeated. Nathaniel turned his head, trying to determine from whence it came. The mouth acted like the walls of a cave, resonating the sound so that it took him some moments to realise it came from deeper inside the creature’s body.

When he realised what it was, he almost laughed. How could he be so dim as not to recognise the beast’s heartbeat?

As he’d turned his head in search of the sound, he’d swept his gaze over the soft bed of a tongue, a framework of teeth and, looking up now, he spied the ridged cavern roof of its palate.

All should have been dark, so why could he see these things?

Turning his head, Nathaniel stared into the creature’s gullet. Far in the distance, from the depths of its throat, a soft red glow illuminated the inside of the beast’s mouth. During the course of its flight he’d given some thought to how a dragon could breathe on Jupiter. If the creature could breathe fire this could be a result of methane gas generating in its stomach—a gas of which there were definitely trace amounts on Jupiter.

How, though, could fire burn inside a creature without its roasting? In the same way as the stomach lining in a human did not consume itself would be his guess. Just as well Nathaniel had not opted to be eaten, for he had a feeling he would have been baked on the way down.

As fascinating as all this speculation was, he needed to find a way out. If he moved, might the animal feel it? He had the added problem of his not knowing where the creature had come to rest, but one thing was undeniably certain—he could not stay inside this beast.

He waited. The heartbeat was slow and steady, suggestive of sleeping. Relaxing his grip, Nathaniel eased back from the crook of the teeth. His muscles, having clung on for so long, screamed in protest. He stood on the gum line trying to avoid the tongue, which had to be more sensitive. When all remained quiet, he turned his attention to the problem in front of him—a literal wall of teeth. There were gaps through which he could crawl, but he hesitated to do so. What if he was between those teeth when the dragon moved and they came crashing down? That death would likely be swifter than the other scenarios he envisioned, so what of it?

Sighing, Nathaniel chose an opening and wriggled through.

Sometime later he returned to the relatively safe harbour where he’d sat for most of his time inside the dragon. The lips had proven to be hard and immovable, a solid ridge with no areas sufficiently soft through which to squeeze.

Nathaniel sat, tired from his efforts, dismayed. Then he remembered the SAW, unable to believe he’d forgotten it, although at this distance…

He tried, but in vain. As he’d thought, the signal could not reach. He was sure it still worked, but for all he knew the structure of the dragon’s mouth or the bone itself blocked any signal from escaping or penetrating. Or he was just too far from those who could receive the message.

Until that moment he’d actually believed having survived thus far he’d find a way out of this predicament. Now his options narrowed to two. Either he’d sit here until his air ran out, or the dragon spat him from its maul. If the prospects weren’t so dire, he might even have found the situation funny.

5.

BEDFORD MOVED THROUGH THE resting men. He’d made one sweeping check before it dawned on him there wasn’t a woman among them. When he spotted Wollf, he shook his head. His orders had been for everyone to get some rest for a couple of hours, and to remain within the perimeter of the camp.

“Spare me from scientists,” he muttered as he made his way carefully through those sleeping and out into the larger part of the cavern.

“With all due respect…” Bedford begun, but he was not allowed to utter another word.

“When people say that, they usually mean what they are about to say will offend.”

Bedford recalled Stone talking to him the same way and had to accept she was right. He let the quiet moment spin out, during which Wollf continued scraping something off a rock with a small pick into a test tube. Only when she was done, did she turn her head to look at him. Her expression was one of inquiry. There was no real time for small talk and yet he was supposed to be resting so he had nothing urgent to do. He didn’t know why he chose now to try to make overtures to Wollf, but the urge to pass the time overcame him. Maybe he was missing Annabelle. As soon as the day ticked over into the next it would be Valentine’s Day.

“Your father…Leopold Wollf… I have heard he is making overtures to the Austrian Academy of Sciences to allow women into their programmes.”

Wollf nodded. “So I too have heard.”

When she seemed disinclined to take the conversation further, Bedford searched for something to add. “What do you think of Vienna?”

“I like it well enough. I would like it better if those of more social standing extended their improvements in the city to the poor.”

That was more verbose than usual, but clearly only because of a social and political agenda. Bedford didn’t know the situation in Vienna and had nothing to add.

“Is there something you require?”

Was there? He’d come over to admonish her, to tell her to rest, but he was certain he’d get no further with her than he would have in arguing with Annabelle.

“Interesting specimen?” Bedford asked. Despite his respect for women and believing them to be as capable as men, he found Wollf especially difficult to contend with. She didn’t seem to understand the meaning of conversation other than to impart direct information. While he crouched, waiting for her to say something and feeling rather as if she might scrape him into a test tube if she could find one large enough, something white in the top pocket of her uniform caught his attention. Was that a playing card?

Bedford realised he frowned when her gaze flicked down to where he was looking before returning to his face. Definitely not an area of a woman’s body he should be noticing even if he had only been looking at whatever was in her pocket. Wollf might take his perusal the wrong way. Annabelle would likely have teased him no end. Feeling suddenly hot, Bedford said, “My orders were—”

“I require little sleep, and I am not the only one…disobeying your orders.” She gestured with her head back to camp.

Unsure of her meaning, Bedford hesitated. “Don’t go any further,” he told her. “I can’t afford to…to lose another scientist.” He’d said that last while staring at the ground, glad when he was able to keep his voice steady. A glance in her direction made Bedford wish he hadn’t. Her gaze was too knowing.

Bedford stood. As he turned away Wollf reached up and tapped the playing card back down into her pocket so that it was out of view. Unsure who he was disgruntled with most, he returned to the camp looking for anyone not resting who wasn’t on watch.

He soon found them. Kaplan and Quintana presided over the rubbings. Kaplan made drawings, consulted a small notebook; they spoke quietly amongst themselves. When they weren’t speaking they were nodding and pointing. A moment passed before either man noticed him, and when one did, it was Quintana who lifted his head and stared at Bedford with a direct unapologetic expression. Really, what was the purpose of his being commander here when the research team pointedly ignored every order he gave? Would they give Theobald so much grief?

Probably.

He looked from Quintana to Kaplan and back. “Not your area of expertise, I would think.” When Quintana grinned at him, Bedford hankered down. “What have you discovered?”

“Very little and yet much, old chap.” Kaplan answered before Quintana had a chance, but the Spaniard only seemed amused, giving Kaplan a nod to continue.

“You can read these symbols?” Bedford had asked that of Stone earlier. Maybe this time the question would have an improved result.

“Hardly.” Kaplan gave him a not very respectful look.

So that would be a no to the better outcome. “You’ve seen these symbols then?”

“Only similar and only through Professor’s Stone’s research.” Kaplan tapped the pages of rubbings. “What I’m seeing here, I believe it’s a set of instructions, but I’ve only reached that conclusion from the corresponding signs that Stone found on the Phobos monolith.”

Bedford frowned. “Quintana, I thought you discovered the monolith.”

“Discovered, si. I did not have the opportunity to study in the same detail as Stone.”

“I’m not following.”

Quintana made another gesture at Kaplan.

“According to Stone’s reports the monolith extended into the depths of Phobos.”

“Where I have not had the opportunity to go.” Quintana managed to sound both sorrowful and hopeful.

“There were symbols both on the top part of the monolith and the base,” Kaplan said.

“Meaning? You said they were not the same.” Bedford was beginning to grow a dislike for scientists not providing quick explanations. Either they wished to show off or they surmised what was clear to them should be apparent to all.

“And they are not. They are of a similar order. I am sure…” Kaplan broke off. “Given time…”

“Which we do not have,” Quintana interceded.

“Given Nathaniel’s notes…”

“Which are for the most part back on the ship.”

Bedford looked from one man to the other as they took it in turn to report, wishing they would get to the point.

Kaplan shook his head. “Commander, what we require is Nathaniel Stone and about a month to decipher the code. Even then…I am unsure even the professor could do this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s as if part of it is missing. What I cannot understand is why. The tablets are not worn, they are undamaged, and there are no lost portions.”

“What then is the problem?”

“It’s as if I am looking at a jumbled puzzle. It’s as if the only chance of deciphering came from sectioning the slabs and then working out which order to read them in. That… Good grief, the possible combinations alone would maybe take a year to calculate.” Kaplan fell silent with a shrug.

Bedford let the implications wash over him. “There is no hope that these can be of any help, then?”

“Poco.” Quintana copied Kaplan’s shrug only making the situation seem more hopeless by the way he tilted his head.

That was not what Bedford wanted to hear. “You’ve collected your samples?” He anticipated Kaplan and Quintana’s nods. “So when the men are rested…” He did not have to finish for the two men looked thoughtful, and then nodded again. To their credit they were subdued although they, probably more than he, were convinced of Nathaniel Stone’s death. Nevertheless, Bedford found he was nodding back. When the rest period ended, they had no reason to stay in the area. They could scout around in the remaining time left, and then head back to the cutter and Sovereign.

“I suggest you both rest,” Bedford said, rising, leaving it to the men to decide whether they would. He was supposed to be catching a brief rest as well, but as Bedford lay down he found any prospect of sleep impossible.

He looked across. Tally was now sitting up. The Irishman wouldn’t want to go and from what Able Seaman Stevenson had said, Bedford supposed he could expect some resistance in that quarter too. Stevenson would follow orders, though. Tally was of a different ilk. He’d rather see a body first, even if the situation was hopeless.

Hopeless.

Bedford found his lips stretching in an odd twisted smile. If any man could beat those odds, it was Stone.

6.

NATHANIEL OPENED HIS EYES to darkness. It took him a moment to accept this, but when he did he turned his head in the direction where he had last seen the red glow. There was no light and, although some seconds passed for him to fully comprehend, he soon realised he’d also grown cold.

He listened, but could hear no heart beating. No soft rasps of breath. Nothing, whatsoever. Incredibly, Nathaniel had fallen asleep or blacked out and during that time the creature had stopped breathing. The heartbeat had lulled him; silence was the very thing to awake him now. The dragon was dead.

Why? What in the universe had killed it?

Even as Nathaniel puzzled over his luck, he accepted he might never know. Quite possibly the creature had been dying already and had only moved because Nathaniel had disturbed it. He spent precisely a second feeling sorry that he’d likely caused the poor dying beast pain, but admitted he was mostly sorry because that action had also resulted in his being here now. If he could change what he had done no-one was more certain than Nathaniel that he would.

Whatever had killed it, he was grateful. The angle at which he lay had changed as if the animal’s head had rolled to one side.

He stood, wincing from the pain of too much time sitting cramped.

How much air did he have left? He’d switched over to the other tank before he’d fallen asleep but he should still have enough for a few hours. As he no longer had to worry about upsetting the creature, he could do whatever was necessary to find a way out. Where should he start?

Panic made him want to rush, but he needed to give the situation some thought.

This time he was in darkness and he’d already ascertained his tools were insufficient to break through the creature’s mouth, for the lips were backed by a hard ridge plate.

Could he break through some other part of the creature? The mouth led to all sorts of soft areas in most animals. The nasal passages in a creature this size would surely accommodate a man and if they didn’t, he might be able to chip his way through. Escape was going to involve some disgusting topography and some brutal hacking and slashing.

Nathaniel allowed his stomach to roll over at the thought and then shook off the nausea. He was not going to sit in darkness waiting to die in some…feckin’ creature’s mouth that hadn’t even had the decency to eat him. Incredibly, Nathaniel realised he was smiling as he channelled Tally.

“I’m not giving up,” Nathaniel muttered, grinning. He could be as stubborn as any Irishman.

The fact that the dragon’s head had rolled over in death made some of Nathaniel’s task easier. The most difficult thing he had to do initially was to orientate his position in darkness. Walking along the line of teeth to the back of the mouth was only slightly problematic. The tongue had lulled a little, blocking the way, but he needed to climb onto it in any case. Indeed, the lump of flesh helped him reach the soft palate at the back of the throat. There, he paused.

He considered other means of access into the upper part of the skull by way of the throat but dismissed them. The likelihood of having an accident that way was too great, finding an exit through the skull safer and more direct.

Taking out the only knife he had on him—small but sharp—he sliced open the soft tissue in the roof of the mouth. Even though he tried to stand to one side, warm ichor rained down, some splashes pattering him with drops.

Deciding he might as well cut as much of the soft tissue away as he could, Nathaniel did so, inadvertently stripping it to form a length that, as he tried to crawl through, he was able to use as a rope. Granted, his hands slipped, but he was able to make slits in which to shove his fingers or a foot. With relatively little trouble, he worked his way into the nasopharynx and eustachian tube opening.

Not once could Nathaniel forget he was inside a creature’s skull, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he was crawling through a cave. Strange how one’s perspective changed. He’d bemoaned crawling through yet more caves and now here he was willing to exchange almost anything to swap this place for one. He had room to move but the space never felt as big as he needed. He fought to ignore the slimy feel of his surroundings, at once dismayed and grateful he could not see what he was touching. Darkness made the job more difficult but he might have been affected by claustrophobia if he could see the closeness of the walls. He chose to feel grateful. The only thing he could hear was his own rasping breaths, and he could still smell that strange combination of sulphur and meat, alas now with added metallic scent of blood.

At one point he became aware of his pulse racing, of a growing pain in his lungs and throat, and had to stop to check his breathing apparatus. Not an easy task in the dark, but as far as he could tell it continued to work perfectly. Only when he thought he heard a noise behind him, compelled to look back even knowing he could see nothing, did Nathaniel realise he was beginning to show signs of panic.

“That’s simply unacceptable,” he said aloud, almost jumping at the alien sound of his own muffled words.

I need to calm down.

The self-reproach helped. Nathaniel turned in the direction he’d originally been heading, reaching out and, with touch and knowledge, calculating his position inside this creature’s head. He chose a path. When he encountered flesh, he cut through it. When he came up against bone, he chipped at it or went around.

7.

AS BEDFORD MOVED OFF, Katharina went back to her work, although she spared the other man glances. He had surprised her by mentioning her father, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about her relatives. While what Bedford had said about her father helping to pave a new direction in the world for women was true, she really didn't wish to discuss the subject—the fact that her studies had been at the hands of tutors rather than the university pained her and her father equally. Mention of him filled her with longing for her entire family. Had her mother yet ceased crying? Was her father thinking of her on this grand adventure? He had to be. As excited and pleased for her as he felt, he must surely fear for her safety. What good parent wouldn’t? He would be missing her as she was missing him.

She had not met one man on board who was like her father. She missed his duel personality—the careful man who changed things gently, and the one when thwarted was likely to have a tantrum. She missed being young enough to sit in a corner of her father's study while he entertained men of learning with a cigar, a glass of brandy, and interesting debate. How had Bedford heard of him?

Sitting back on her heels, Katharina closed her eyes and took a breath. She couldn’t remember when she last felt this tired, not that she wanted any of the men present to see this. Feeling tired had nothing to do with being female; she had noted several of the men looking more weary than their exertions so far warranted. Katharina opened her eyes and glanced around. Maybe something on Jupiter prompted her fatigue. Maybe having to breathe artificial and filtered air for hours at a time was the cause. Whatever the reason she refused to appear anything but strong in front of the men. She lived in a sad world where women had to prove they were capable; more than that, they had to show strength greater than that of men in some social circles, and even then were not accepted. When she considered what she had seen of the lives of the poor in Vienna, how anyone could believe a woman had less strength was beyond her comprehension.

Being one of a team of scientists suited her. Although she was more used to her opinion being less expected, these men appeared interested in what she was saying. She had been cautious until now—convinced she must be reading the situation incorrectly, but the more time passed, the more she had come to realise at least most of the research team had no problem with women. One or two clearly did not like her inclusion—one in particular upon discovering that she had previously been employed as an assistant had instructed her to take notes for him. She had not even bothered to refuse verbally, just walked out on him. Likewise, a few required convincing—but that applied to the presence of women on Sovereign in general.

Work had distracted her, held her attention and kept her mind busy, but she was running out of specimens to collect. As she suspected he would, Bedford had gone over to Kaplan and Quintana. She had considered joining them herself. The puzzle of the cartouches at least seemed more interesting than the specimens she had so far gathered. The three men were across the way in conversation, though Kaplan and Quintana appeared to be confusing the commander.

The scene brought a smile to her face. She liked Bedford. What kind of woman would have married him? What kind of woman would Bedford have wed? She had heard of the…notorious…Annabelle Bedford. She tried to imagine what the woman was like. One who recognised a good man when she saw him, obviously.

Katharina had known the commander had noticed the playing card and not been looking at her chest, although she hadn’t been able to resist making the man blush.

Katharina took out the card now. Fenn had given it to her at the end of the session. He’d given her the entire deck, said they had plenty more, and considering she was one of the best players on Sovereign declared it only apt she have the deck she’d used to “swab the deck” with them. She didn’t understand the meaning of that expression, and they had only been playing with slips. The game had really been a way to barter chores, but if she wanted, Katharina had a whole bunch of IOUs and a number of men to do some of her duties for her. Some of them she was sure she would only have had to ask—another truth that annoyed her. She had not come all this way to look pleasing to men or to have them flatter her; her father hadn’t truly needed to warn her this would happen, though.

Not all men, and she couldn’t deny it surprised her to find that not all attentiveness was equally annoying. She turned the Ace of Spades over in her hand, perplexed to find a small smile on her lips. Surely she didn’t have a crush on Jack Fenn, though when she considered it, her reaction was not entirely surprising. He could be charming, and although he obviously liked her, he hadn’t tried to impress her. She had known how to ingratiate herself into his circle. Her reasons for doing so were somewhat ambiguous and mostly precautionary—she did not know if or when such associations might prove advantageous.

Fenn was…interesting. He had a surprising intellect in his field; an intelligence she suspected given the right encouragement could lead him to other things. He was…beneath her in a social aspect, although she wasn’t sure he entirely realised that. Some on the ship equated a female scientist as little more than a bookkeeper. Although Fenn was more intelligent than to believe that, he would have no reason to know to what level of society she attributed her accomplishments. Indeed, now that she gave it some thought, Fenn likely had no idea of why she had been assigned to Sovereign. There was no reason why someone of his rank would. Even Katharina was less interested with the details of the British-Austrian alliance than the fact that it had enabled her to travel to the stars and beyond the inner planets and to collect interesting specimens of which she had so far found few.

Katharina almost sighed. The inner core of Jupiter had so far proved disappointing, although she suspected Nathaniel Stone would not agree with her.

Her thoughts going full circle she moved to slip the card back into her pocket when it fell from her hand. She had to stretch to reach it and when she picked it up her gaze settled on something of a brighter hue than the surrounding landscape. Taking care to put the card safely away first, she reached for an appropriate tool and began to dig. The sample was fragile; despite her every attempt it crumbled away.

“Something interesting, senorita?”

She almost started at the sound of Quintana’s voice. “Possibly.” She carried on with the extraction while the portly scientist settled on to his knees. “This isn’t a mineral,” she said, a frown tightening her brow. She had already forgotten Quintana’s presence, or at least put it out of her mind, so that he again made her jump when he leaned forwards to look, almost shouldering her out of the way in his eagerness.

Being a tall woman Katharina was glad they were both kneeling. She at least met the height of many men, and was a good deal taller than Quintana. Only with Stone did she have to strain her neck to look up to his face.

“Discúlpeme. May I?”

As he was trying to peer at the sample from a slight distance through a magnifying lens and not attempting to take it from her, she allowed this. She had already identified its closest counterpart on Earth, so waited only a beat before saying, “If I’m correct this is some type of coral.”

Quintana looked at her, unable or not caring to hide his sceptical look. Either this was knowledge he lacked or he was giving her a chance to show her ecology skills.

“Do you know anything of coral?”

“Si. I know they provide food for other life, and I believe there has been speculation into the protection of the shore.”

“Yes. I believe it does. Algae has also been found to live amongst coral cells.”

“Circumstance? Coincidence?” Quintana smiled at her. “Clearly there is something more or you would not mention it?”

“I would not. If this has the properties I suppose then it makes the algae-like substance I found earlier far more interesting.”

Quintana was already struggling to his feet and making a performance of it. “I find both fascinating, but why does one make the other more so?”

“Some studies have shown one order of coral to accommodate one variety of algae. This suggests a closely connected type of interaction.”

“Hmm…So coral and algae have a unión…erm…relationship?”

“You could call it that. A relationship… Yes.” The suggestion fitted well.

“You believe the same things happen here?” Quintana had regained his feet and now bent over to brush his hands on his knees.

“Until I examine these samples I cannot tell you; however…” She stopped talking and shook her head. “The remains I have found are dead.”

“Unsurprising as by deduction coral lives in the sea.”

She could tell by his smile that Quintana was teasing her, and she knew enough of the man to believe his intent was benevolent. She returned his smile and nodded. “Si.” She replied in his language.

“Was there water once on Jupiter?” Quintana pondered the question but Katharina shook her head.

“Impossible to deduce at this stage, but I believe not. This is coral-like but may not be the same or survive the same way. This is a peculiar environment, more so than I ever thought to explore. More so than Luna, I am sure you will tell me.”

“Si si. Even more so than Phobos, although I did not examine its depths like our Professor Stone.” Quintana looked thoughtful, which for the often over-excitable man was calm indeed. “I had just thought that the loss of water would explain the death of these organisms.”

“It would, if they indeed required it. I have another possible explanation. Some research has revealed that if one dies so does the other, which suggests…”

Quintana was nodding. “They must evolve together to survive.”

“If that’s the case, then these clearly failed to and perished.”

“Not an efficient means of survival it would seem.”

“Not entirely.”

“Something else is bothering you.”

He was studying her expression closely. Katharina smoothed out her frown, recalling how her mother lectured her into keeping her face impassive so to avoid early signs of ageing. Katharina had found another use for doing so—keeping her mien inscrutable most of the time kept others guessing her intentions and her inner thoughts remained her own.

“I would have expected to find a variety of life or none. These…clearly they once existed but their advancement failed. I would not have anticipated a creature such as a…dragon.” She had no reason to doubt Tally, and she believed he believed he had seen some huge creature. He might not have understood what it was in truth, though.

“A dragon is a large evolutionary step from a piece of coral.”

“Indeed. There also appears to be nothing to sustain them.” Another reason she doubted the size of the creature Tally claimed to have seen.

“There is apparently some type of many-legged creature on Phobos upon which the Chaldrites feed.”

“I have not had the opportunity to read all the details of that, and there may well be something similar here, but unless there are life-forms we’ve yet to discover, the only way I can see for a creature the size Tally spoke of to survive is…” She broke off, a little embarrassed to mention the first topic but feeling more disturbed by the second. Quintana awaited the explanation. “I would suggest a high rate of procreation…and cannibalism.”

8.

“INFERIOR, MIDDLE, SUPERIOR…CONCHA.” Nathaniel listed what he recalled of the internal structure of the nose and shuddered at the thought. He really didn’t want to crawl out of this creature’s nose unless he had to. If he didn’t choose the nasal cavity though, where else could he go?

He’d stopped for a break, lifting a hand to his brow, wincing when his fingers slipped along his skin. There was probably as much blood…and other stuff, on his face as on his hands. He’d tied a strip torn from his shirt around his eyes long ago; since he couldn’t see anyway he reasoned he may as well protect his eyes. He didn’t want blood in them, but the fabric was now soaked and glued to his skin. Would attempting to replace it be a worthless endeavour? He didn’t have far to go. He could at least wipe his face.

He reached under his jacket and tore more fabric free from his shirt. He kept the cloth in his closed fist while he attempted to tug the strip from his eyes. The effort proved ghastly. The wetness peeled away from his skin as though he had sloughed off a part of his own flesh. For the first time Nathaniel thought he might truly vomit. He concentrated on moving the clean cloth and wiping the area around his eyes. When he blinked to open them, he could dimly make out his surroundings.

From where was the faint light coming? Was he deeper into the nose than he’d believed? He didn’t think so, although this wasn’t a human skull and he’d been stumbling about blind and guessing. The space was large enough to be one of the creature’s sinus cavities, but which? Also, although there was plenty of slime, he didn’t believe it was as wet in the interior as he would have expected, and relatively free from mucus. A wry sense of humour made him grimace. A man had to be grateful for small mercies.

As for the light… Both the sphenoid sinus and maxillary sinus were situated beneath the orbit of the eye, but that still didn’t explain why he could see.

Rising, Nathaniel stumbled to the area of most light. He at once hit his head and yelped in pain. If his cut was bleeding again he’d never know, for even without the ability to see, he could tell he wore a coat of red. Earlier thoughts about his appearance and comparing his dishevelled state to Kaplan’s blackened face back on Luna now seemed laughable.

He took more steps this time with caution, coming up against a wall of bone.

Nathaniel ran fingers over the surface, noting in spots where he could glimpse his hand better. He chose one and struck with the small hammer, which he’d somehow kept hold of when the creature swallowed him. During his horrendous crawl through the skull, he’d been surprised to find the bone structure to be quite brittle, but as he’d not had reason to chip much away, he jumped in shock as a large chunk cracked under the strike.

Could it be the animal was already showing signs of deterioration, and if so what could affect the structure of the bones in such a way? Jupiter itself?

He’d ruminate over that later if he survived. For now, Nathaniel set about hacking his way through.

While he worked he had a sense of time passing and had to take breaks to calm his pulse rate and his breathing. The physical exertion had put a strain on his body and no doubt his breathing apparatus. He didn’t need to let panic get the best of him; hysteria would only increase the problem.

“Less haste, more speed.” Good advice helped him to focus, and in a short time he had made a large enough hole to squirm through.

On the other side, the structure was far smaller and Nathaniel knew at times he’d be wriggling much like a worm underground. He’d done similar back in Dublin. He was determined he could do so now. He need only keep his nerve and he’d soon be out.

Sooner than he anticipated. Whatever reaction was occurring inside the beast, Nathaniel continued to find signs of it. The body grew fragile around him; fluids dried up. Where before he’d been sopping wet, the vital fluid dried, making his skin feel taunt and itchy. For direction, he followed the brightening light and in less time than he imagined he stood looking out at the world of Jupiter from inside back of the dragon’s eye.

Chapter Seven

1.

THE GENERAL NOISE OF the engines prohibited any real conversation, at least for men who were trying to go unnoticed. Fenn had resorted to hand signals and grabbed Arnaud’s arm when they needed to duck out of sight. Fortunately, they had only to navigate a couple of ladders and walkways. While this section didn’t appear to be as hot as some in the engine room, they had needed to wait several minutes at one point, crouched down behind some scorching pipes, taking care not to unbalance and risk burning themselves. Even Fenn swiped his brow with the back of one hand more than once before they could finally move. If they made it out of here without being detected, Arnaud feared everyone would know where he had been because he would resemble nothing more elegant than a sopping dishcloth.

Fenn stopped dead, causing Arnaud to walk into him. They were in front of another door, and while it looked perfectly ordinary, Fenn’s frown grew. He glanced back at Arnaud then had to lean in to put his mouth right by his ear. “This shouldn’t be here.”

Arnaud shook his head, not understanding.

“I know this ship. There’s no reason for a separate section here.”

If that were true then this entrance was likely locked. Even if Fenn could pick the lock there would be security. He was about to say so when Fenn took hold of the handle and turned it. The door swung opened. No-one rushed out.

Sparing each other a glance, both men walked in. They were on another walkway. Fenn closed the door behind them. Although quieter here, there was still a degree of noise. If they kept alert this could be in their favour—the surrounding hum helped to disguise their movements. Arnaud looked around, expecting to have to choose a direction, but the walkway consisted of a large rectangle with two ladders leading down. He was about peer over the side when Fenn grabbed hold. The engineer had already taken a look, and stared over the railing with an expression Arnaud couldn’t interpret. Puzzlement definitely, but possibly horror and shock.

Arnaud took a step and looked down. Arnaud lost track of the seconds passing as he tried to make sense of the view.

Marwick was one of two men lying on two of six tables set out in a spiral at the base. Although most of the… Arnaud glanced up and down and although the ceiling wasn’t far overhead he supposed it was good enough to call this section a shaft. Most of the space was in darkness, but a soft yellow-green glow bathed the open floor space. He could see that the area led through to a larger section below that he suspected connected to other parts of the ship or at least the engine room. He turned his attention back to the tables.

Arnaud couldn’t make out much but wires and tubing ran from the beds to consoles. Were the men connected to the ship or just lying on the beds? He couldn’t be sure, not without taking a closer look.

“Are they sleeping?” Fenn’s question was barely a breath against the side of his face.

Arnaud shook his head. He didn’t know. The beds—and the more he looked at them, he was more certain they were beds instead of tables—looked more comfortable than his bunk and even those in the medical room. Of the two men, nothing similar linked them. They were of different heights, weight, colouring of hair, and skin. The only thing connecting them was that both men were members of the research department. He began to wonder how many researchers on this ship appeared to have trouble sleeping. How many would be disinclined to discuss the project to which they were assigned? How many came here during their shifts to spend their time apparently sleeping while on duty? Why?

Arnaud leaned his elbows on the railing, cupped his hands in front of his chin and stared intently at the resting crew members.

What could men do at rest that they could not do awake? This had to have something to do with their minds.

Arnaud glanced at the nearest ladder that led down. He was about to slip off his shoes to try to make his way down silently without disturbing the resting men when a researcher or technician walked into view. Fenn flinched back, but Arnaud withdrew more slowly. He pulled back into the shadows but watched the technician move from console to console, checking on each man. He shrugged off Fenn’s hand and edged to the right placing his feet carefully. One clank on the walkway would likely have the researcher looking up and then this would all be over for them. He just needed to see…

The technician was at the console below him and although Arnaud could not make out the whole display, he noted knobs, dials, switches, a flickering needle behind a curved plate of glass, some sort of power gauge. Arnaud took two more steps backwards and joined Fenn, who had already pressed himself against the wall. Fenn glanced back at the door and then at Arnaud who shook his head. Sound from the other room, movement from the door, a change in the light levels…any and all of these things could alert the man below before they escaped. If someone came in while they stood there for all Arnaud knew they might end up shot before any questions were asked.

The following two minutes weren’t the longest of his life—he’d been through far too much to lose his nerve so easily—but they lasted some considerable time.

Finally the technician walked away and after waiting another minute he and Fenn took the opportunity to escape.

2.

HE WAS NO BIOLOGIST but Nathaniel knew enough of the eye to name the superior, medial, lateral and inferior rectus. The lateral broke apart under his touch, the vitreous chamber turned to mush as his fingers pressed against it. Counting the optic nerves, Nathaniel was sure there were at least six. This would allow a dragon to see in different parts of the spectrum. No wonder he’d not been able to hide from the creature.

He stepped into the eye socket and looked out through the crystalline lens. The entire front of the eye was hardening. Cracking and popping noises filled the chamber as the eye appeared to frost over before him. Soon all that stood between him and the outside was a glass frontispiece.

Nathaniel sat down and fished in his supplies for what remained of his food. He ate vigorously, suddenly ravenous. He was even of a mind to lie down and sleep but although he might be safe here, he could not guarantee the entire skull would not collapse in on him. Exhausted he might be, but he had no time to waste.

Would the others leave without him? They might not want to, but he couldn’t see why they wouldn’t. Not if they believed him dead. He needed to let them know he lived.

First, he had to break through this last barrier.

Standing, he approached the lens, stopped when he’d only taken a couple of steps. He’d been worried about the cavity falling in; he’d not given any thought to the base under his feet. He heard the snap as well as felt something shift. Whatever was happening to the bone structure, the degradation had accelerated. The only way out was before him, and he needed to act fast.

Still, so pretty was the lens—delicate in appearance and refracting light—he stood admiring it for a moment, taking in not only the sight before him but the miraculous fact that he’d made it thus far.

With care, he chipped at the area surrounding the lens. In the end, he could not detach it in one piece, and it would have been far too big although lightweight to carry had he succeeded. When the lens broke apart, half of it shattering, he left the fragments, chose one of the larger pieces and, putting it in his pack with the scale, he stepped through the eye socket into the more familiar landscape of Jupiter.

“Out of the belly of…” He glanced behind him and corrected. “Out of the eye of the beast.”

He spent a few minutes climbing down its face, and then chose a direction and walked away. When he’d walked several feet, he turned to stare back.

In death, the dragon had lost much of the magic of its existence. The skin had shrunk and turned grey. Where bone poked through, it shone white. Nathaniel looked around him. Many similar shapes lay in a great open space. He walked towards one, touched it, and stepped back as it crumbled under his hand.

“Some of these have been here a long time.” Or had they?

A glance around revealed a landscape of white dust. He picked up another bone and squeezed. It fragmented into a blend of shards and powder.

“These bones could have been here a millennia or be a day old.” Nathaniel spoke just to hear the sound of his voice. The silence had begun to annoy him. Several hours ago, he’d longed for solitude. He appreciated the irony.

“Remind me to be careful what I wish for.”

Grimacing, Nathaniel returned to what he now thought of as his dragon, examined both it and some of the surrounding bones.

“Lightweight. Hollow like a bird’s.” Nathaniel couldn’t help wondering if the bone would work like liftwood, but its nature seemed so fragile he wasn’t sure he would want to rely on using it, or even to try. Besides, clearly these creatures had a fast rate of decomposition, but he believed that the bone structure definitely helped a living animal to fly.

He gazed around once more at the different sizes and shapes of skeletons. Some were almost hard to define as dragons, but he was sure they were all of the same species.

“A dragon graveyard,” Nathaniel whispered. Just like the fabled elephant graveyard of Earth. The dragon he’d disturbed could have been dying, even resting, or had given up on its way here. The creature hadn’t swallowed him. It had sucked him up in anger or fear, or by accident. It could well have been trying to reach here to die.

All very fascinating. The problem Nathaniel now had was how to return to the others and how to do it in time before they gave him up for dead…which they probably already had.

3.

WHAT HAD HE SEEN? How much should he tell Fenn? Arnaud had been calculating these questions when two men as good as pounced on him. At first he’d thought his and Fenn’s excursion had been noticed and they were being arrested, but he was quickly informed the captain wanted to see him and whisked away. He’d glanced at Fenn who had been left standing there. While he was glad not to have to talk to the engineer right now, he had an even greater desire not to have to speak with the captain. Arnaud considered he had suffered enough today. He’d endured neck ache, headache, tension, more pain in his neck, then the headache flaring up again, chased back only by the adrenaline rush of snooping. Whatever the captain wanted to see him for—as long as it had nothing to do with his recent activities—had delayed Fenn questioning him over the bizarre revelations in the depths of the ship, but Fenn would still ask in time. Arnaud just didn’t have answers. Speculation wasn’t the same as a solution.

Could he satisfy Fenn with a lie? A prevarication? Something bordering on the truth? Would Fenn believe him if he said he didn’t know? Would Fenn think him mad if he told him what he honestly thought he had seen?

The more Arnaud thought about the eerie glow, the more he was sure they had been using edwinite in that room. The mineral was used to power the engines now, of course, but…something else. The beds, the sleeping men, the connections, the consoles, the gauges, the technician monitoring them… Arnaud almost shook his head but he didn’t want to draw the attention of his two escorts. He couldn’t tell Fenn of their findings; it wasn’t safe for anyone to know his thoughts, not until he was sure, and maybe not even then.

The human body carried electrical energy. The edwinite had telepathic capabilities. The substance responded to thought. If his assumptions were correct, the mind behind the plan, more than the how it was carried out, concerned him the most.

Whose idea was it to use men as human batteries to help power Sovereign? Did Nathaniel know?

4.

“ANY SIGN?” FOR ALL his steadfastness Captain Benjamin Theobald was a good officer. Right now he paced the bridge a little more than was seemly. The excursion team had a few hours left to them yet, but he had hoped they would emerge from the interior before time. He refused to call the creatures they had seen dragons, but they certainly made him think of reptiles, thoughts of a certain Bible story leaving him with a sense of unease. Whatever they were, they appeared to be keeping their distance. Why?

In the hope of an answer to that question, he’d dragged Doctor Fontaine to the bridge to speculate…when personnel had finally tracked him down. Goodness knows what the blighter had been doing and he didn’t have time to ask him now. He’d mumbled something about feeling unwell, which might account for his lack of focus, and possibly even his somewhat untidy appearance.

“I know little of animal behaviour, but I…” Fontaine stared out following the sweep and pivots of one of the creatures in flight. “I would say that they are using certain air currents, following thermals or…” He shrugged, the gesture striking Theobald as very French. “It could be that as we are trying to remain in the relatively calmer spaces, this is what is keeping them away.”

“Are they likely to attack?”

Fontaine looked at him as if he were mad.

“Hypothesise.” Theobald was perfectly aware how he sounded. He was annoyed with the attitude of some of the researchers. He was perfectly capable of reaching his own conclusions but to hear whether another man’s speculations tallied with his would be useful. Either the crew failed to detect his lasting irritation with the scientists or were too professional to pay attention.

“They’ve not done so yet. I think…non.” Fontaine moved closer to the viewing port until further progress was prevented by instruments. “Animals attack for several reasons. Hunger. Fear. Territory. I cannot rule anything out, but I do not imagine we resemble these creatures’ normal menu. Whatever it is they eat…” Again with the shrug. “I cannot imagine what exists here for them to consume, but then I never conceived of finding life that could exist in this atmosphere.” He went quiet.

“Fontaine?”

“I was just pondering… If the research team do not return in the allotted time, it could be they have encountered these creatures deep inside the core.”

Theobald had already considered that, of course. He had wanted to order the cutter back to the ship, but for the time being the smaller vessel seemed safe and he didn’t want them to drift too far from the spot where they expected the team to emerge. The land masses shifted but in a relative holding pattern. The injured crewman had dislocated a shoulder, but the others had reset it. His arm was in a sling and he was resting. Theobald had ordered them to remain. If the research team were late though…how long would he have the cutter wait?

He glanced again at Fontaine, doubting the Frenchman had shoulders big enough to carry all the troubles that lay ahead.

5.

ALTHOUGH HE’D BEEN CAREFUL, Nathaniel’s water supply was low. He checked what remained and considered the best way to ration what he had left. He couldn’t calculate with any accuracy how long he needed the reserve to last, but he could gauge the time before the crew of Sovereign abandoned him. That time was shortened by the fact that they no doubt believed him dead. If Tally had witnessed the dragon swallow him, it was likely they had done so already. Some of them would have. Would all?

Bedford wouldn’t like to. Tally wouldn’t want to. Arnaud… Nathaniel wasn’t sure if this was the sense of something going wrong he had felt before the mission commenced, but he was glad he had left the man back on the ship. His emotions towards Arnaud were complicated in ways he didn’t entirely understand, but right now Arnaud would be unaware of what had happened to him and he felt oddly pleased about that. Had he been down in the depths of Jupiter, Arnaud’s might have been the voice to complain over Nathaniel’s loss the loudest.

Erasmus Stevenson… The man wouldn’t give him up. Nathaniel couldn’t explain how he knew that, but it had something to do with the differing levels of telepathy some of the people who had come into contact with Kaskuu shared. Erasmus was but one man though, and his voice was hardly one to instruct a captain or a commander. Bedford might want to believe him, but ultimately duty would win out.

Nathaniel took the few sips of water he had decided to allow himself, and then put that and the SAW away. He’d just tried it again, but all he received was a strange form of static. If he’d thought to use it, he was sure the others would be doing the same. Even Bedford. Maybe especially Bedford, because of Annabelle if for no other reason. He didn’t believe Bedford would give up on him without trying something, even if that was only to keep using the SAW to see if Nathaniel checked in.

“Too far away.” He had to be. Nevertheless, Nathaniel longed to keep the SAW on just in case it picked up a signal, but something else he needed to conserve was the battery.

These things were usually too big, but he and Arnaud had worked on a way to run a small power cell…with a grain of edwinite, naturally. While edwinite was powered by thought, alas other components of the device could burn the cell out. What neither he nor Arnaud had been able to do was to prevent corrosion. The edwinite could not work if the cell wouldn't respond. Fortunately, the mineral grew so that they were likely to have all the supply they required, and worn batteries could be replaced, but that didn’t help him here and now. He had to limit use of the SAW—the one thing likely to alert the crew that he was alive.

He needed to get closer before making another attempt, but the task seemed impossible when he didn’t know which direction to take.

Instinct had drawn him to find the cartouches. Maybe something else was at work here. He required faith. When he gave his situation more thought, he realised that all he could do was to follow one of the dragons.

He hadn’t been able to believe the sight at first. He’d called this place a dragon graveyard but the idea that these beasts visited their dead refused to make sense.

Some believed animals could mourn, but what was there for them to return to? A newly dead member of an animal pack might illicit some emotional behaviour from another of its kind—mothers of many species seemed disinclined to leave dying or even dead offspring behind—but as he’d reached the top of a small rise he’d seen an amazing view.

Down on the basin floor, several of the creatures slumbered. At first he’d thought them newly arrived and dying or dead, but even as he’d watched, one had moved. With a shake it rose and unfurled its wings. Great eyelids opened and closed in a slow blink. With a kick it rose, and flew down a tunnel to the right. Although not the only exit, when Nathaniel looked around he saw few. Owing to the position, chances were good his dragon had entered by this very route.

As the minutes passed and he drew closer, Nathaniel grew more cautious. That the creatures slept was obvious as one of the remaining shifted about rather like a dog. He at first counted three, and then realised a much smaller one had been hidden from view. Four dragons on this side of the basin… He didn’t know if there were any others but he glanced back every few paces so as not to suffer a nasty shock.

To slip by them wasn’t difficult. What made Nathaniel flinch back into hiding was the arrival of another. Of middling size, its flight was almost one of funnelling through the air. It dropped with a great thump that shook the ground but disturbed none of the sleepers.

Nathaniel ducked into hiding, hoping the creature didn’t take long to settle. He was completely surprised when the beast dipped its head and began to eat from one of the white powdered heaps that was all that was left of the remains of these animals.

He had wondered what these creatures consumed but he was completely stunned by the thought that they survived by some bizarre form of cannibalism. The idea that the dragons lived and died, and were eaten in this form by others of their kind, either revealed a strange continuity or it was completely repellent.

Orlondo would be fascinated.

Nathaniel planned to do all he could to return to tell him. He left the dragon to its meal, hoping it intended to slumber afterwards—which the white power he now realised ringed each dragon’s lips appeared to indicate—and slipped away into the corridor where he hoped to escape.

A straight channel would have been more in keeping with what he expected, but apparently a winding route was no hindrance to these creature’s flying abilities.

Inside the passage, the light dimmed considerably. Although he saw nothing to threaten him, the walls were quite smooth, worn down by years of the dragons’ passing, wings and limbs brushing and polishing the bedrock to a glossy consistency.

There were no hiding places. If one of the creatures came at him from in front or behind, he’d likely find himself inside the animal’s stomach. If he managed to remain in the mouth he’d be back where he’d started. If the sound might not have alerted the very creatures he was avoiding Nathaniel would have laughed aloud.

He started walking.

As time passed he couldn’t help thinking of the heat as violent. The blood that coated him dried and flaked off in parts. He scratched others away. In places the lines of his skin were so embedded that he looked like a walking red map of intersecting roadways.

He continued, ignoring the urge to try the SAW again. As the passage became increasingly dark, he looked back, but he could not see the way he’d entered because of the twists and turns of the corridor, and the progressively elevated floor. He could die in the tunnel before he found the other opening, or it might turn on him, head straight up where he could not climb. If he didn’t find the way out soon, one of the creatures were sure to come this way from ahead or behind. He foresaw running out of water and air.

“Stop this.” Nathaniel crouched, trying to catch his breath, longing for a single gulp of real air more than anything. He forced himself to breathe what he had. He also wanted to drink but dared not. His intellect won out over his burning throat. His lips were drying out, swelling. The vastness of Jupiter seemed inclined to crush him. Even with his intellect, being alone and lost, the darkness and the silence wore him down.

“Stop. You are…above all this.”

Nathaniel was beginning to grow sick of crawling about inside planets; alas, that was an essential part of the overall mission, and he wouldn’t have experienced so much if not for that. Still, he struggled to equate Kaplan’s delight with excavating with what he was going through now. He began to hum just to break the silence, and was beginning to think that he’d even welcome the return of one of the beasts when a great whump of wings made him dive flat to the ground.

Nathaniel covered his head with his arms, and closed his eyes. He anticipated pain and death, but either the creature failed to notice him, or it wasn’t interested. Nathaniel was only aware of a rush of disturbed atmosphere and the sense of something large passing over his back. As soon as the silence swept down on him again, he was on his feet and running.

He couldn’t outrun his thoughts. Would explorers come this way again? Would they find his remains one day? Would they know who had passed through here and recognise him? Would his bones suffer the same fate as that of the dragons so that he crumbled to powder to be consumed by them, leaving no evidence of his having been here?

What had happened to his conviction he would not die on Jupiter?

He sought for it again as he dashed headlong, fell, rose, bashed into the side wall. He stumbled, would have turned himself around had he not gathered his wits to find which way the ground ascended.

The artificial air rasped down his throat. Moving so fast was using up precious air, but he couldn’t help it. Panic seemed to be an ever-present shadow chasing him through the dark, one that whispered of the time passing when the amount of air he had left would no longer matter.

The shadows gathered. Glancing back, Nathaniel could see a grey ghost of himself moving. That meant there had to be light ahead. The promise spurred him on.

As he emerged, Nathaniel skidded to a halt, took only a moment to sweep his gaze across the terrain. He saw no dragons but that didn’t mean none were around. He darted to the side, edging over rocks and through a narrow passage until he came to a shaded overhang. Once there he reached for his SAW and turned it on.

Nothing happened.

Nathaniel shook it. “Come on, come on.” He’d never been one for bashing things when they didn’t work but was sorely tempted. The unit crackled into life and he tried talking into it.

“Bedford. Hello. Commander. This is Nathaniel Stone. Anybody?”

Hardly an eloquent message but he didn’t care as long as someone heard it.

“Hello. Hello. I repeat; this is Nathaniel Stone. Is anyone receiving me?”

6.

IF HE DIDN’T NEED it, Bedford would have cast the SAW aside and stomped on it. He was beginning to attract looks from a few of the team; pitying glances that they tried to hide. Part of him believed they were right. Even those who presented a professional front, he could see what they were thinking in their eyes. He must accept it—if what Tally said was true, there was no way Nathaniel Stone could have survived.

An image of his wife floated up in front of Bedford’s face. A woman whose strength was etched into every facial expression. He envisioned her gaze as he imparted the news. Of anyone on this expedition the only death that would hurt Annabelle so utterly besides his own was Stone’s. Knowing what he knew of Stone, the thought of Annabelle’s emotions being so invested upset him, but if Stone was dead then he’d let the man’s secret lie at rest with him. There would be no need for Annabelle to ever know. He hated the small matter of slight hope concerning the professor’s demise. Hated that he was capable of feeling that way towards another human being, especially one he had come to know. He even hated how the thought of losing the professor was tearing into him so because of his mixed emotions. He was more professional than this and he had lost men under his command before, but the loss of Stone wasn’t a simple matter. It affected the mission, affected him personally through thoughts of Annabelle, and to lose someone, and someone so important, so early into the journey during their first exploration cut most of all.

Valentine’s Day. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they were so far apart on a day dedicated to romance, he would have to tell Annabelle they had left Stone dead or alive on Jupiter on Saint Valentine’s Day. He wouldn’t be able to lie to her about that, and she would ever associate that day—the day of love—with Stone’s loss. Even from the great beyond, Stone would come between them.

He didn’t care what the crew thought of him, he couldn’t give up.

Bedford lifted the SAW to speak into it again, when Tally grabbed his wrist, holding his arm down, but stepping close to him so that the rest could not see or hear.

“Sure, this is how it is. I can afford to be the crazed grieving Irishman who won’t take no unless it’s shoved down me throat.”

That statement might not be far from the truth. The man hadn’t exactly sobbed his heart out, and Bedford expected he’d been through too much in life to fall apart, but those blue eyes had lost a little of their sparkle, were a little rimmed with red. Tally wasn’t crying but he wanted to.

Bedford nodded, relinquishing his hold of the SAW, but Tally still had a firm grip on his wrist.

“Even if we hear from Nate, I’m a wee bit worried how we’re ’sposed ta find him.”

“I…know.” Bedford hadn’t wanted to think that far ahead. Those who thought Stone dead would no doubt think him mad for trying, but gazing at Tally, he knew he had to. He had an idea, but he needed help.

7.

TALLY WENT ALONG WITH Bedford to present what the commander referred to as a “united front”. Bedford said he could order the researchers to do the work he required but Tally agreed it didn’t help to throw a little emotion into the mix. Quintana had taken the loss of Stone hardest second to Tally. Kaplan was sad and sorrowful, they all were, but with Wollf… With her he could never quite tell what she was feeling or whether she had any emotions at all. On the way over Bedford had told Tally that he could imagine Katarina Wollf and his wife, Annabelle Bedford, in the same room together, and hoped it never happened…not if he should be there too.

“Truly?”

“You never knew my wife, did you?”

“Only in passing.”

“A strong woman.” A small smile played about the man’s lips as he spoke of her.

“Aren’t they all?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Oh.” Maybe it was Irishwomen or maybe working class women who were as strong as or stronger than their men then. “There are degrees of strong, I ’spose.”

“There is that,” Bedford said. His expression changed and he glanced over. “I’m a little surprised to share that with you.”

Tally said nothing. People did tend to talk to him when they got to know him, and he understood the advantage of being a set of silent eyes and ears. Tooler, the man responsible for his being here, might be surprised to know Tally could be quiet when it suited him. He only got gobby, as his mother would say, when the situation called for it.

As they came up to Wollf… Her direct gaze gave even Tally pause, and he chose silence. Maybe Bedford was right and it was just as well his wife wasn’t here. Tally could all too easily imagine the ensuing argument caused just by Wollf’s stare alone, even more so when she replied to Bedford’s command.

“This is a waste of resources.” Her gaze was direct and clear. “But of course you are the commander.”

The nuances in her reply did not escape Tally and he was pretty darn sure they didn’t escape Bedford, but for now the commander had his priorities aligned and apparently didn’t care for thinly disguised insolence.

Bedford walked away and Tally swooped in to help Wollf gather up her things. He was surprised when she hankered down and looked up at him.

“Stone is important to you?” She sounded more curious than anything and Tally wasn’t sure he liked being inspected like this, but he nodded nonetheless.

“No point denying it, and no reason I would.”

At his reply small signs of tension suggestive of puzzlement flickered over her face. “I admire his accomplishments and qualifications, his expertise, but I cannot see these as things that interest you. I find…friendship time-consuming though necessary.”

“I…Well…” What could he say to that?

Fortunately, he had no need to think of anything for Wollf reached into her pocket and pulled out a playing card. “This brought me luck. It was the winning card, and the crew presented me with the pack for a game well played.”

There was a card game the other night and he hadn’t heard about it? Wollf handed over the card, so he took it.

“It is unseemly for a scientist to be superstitious.” She seemed quite put out with the idea that she had been carrying it. “But I have learned that there is one thing I am sure of in this universe. That we never know the truth of our existence. We will never explain all the science and unearth all the secrets. I have learned…I am ignorant. As are we all.

“For luck,” she elaborated when Tally continued to stare at her. “I would appreciate it back if a little of the luck rubs off on you and you find your Professor Stone. Now let’s do what we can do to make that the slightest bit possible.”

8.

A FEW MILES AWAY, Nathaniel Stone crouched, eyes closed, hands clasped around the SAW, finger hovering over the button that would allow him to talk but not pressing it. He waited, straining ears to listen. If the unit got a signal he would hear it, but all he’d received so far was dead air or static.

His attitude was almost one of prayer. In his head, he was close to sending out a plea of please please please to the universe.

“Nate?”

He was so shocked to hear Tally’s voice that he at first didn’t believe it. “Tally?”

He heard an answering whoop. “Well, blow me down. Ya gobshite! Ya feckin’ scared us.”

Tally was scared? He’d never heard anything sweeter than the Irishman’s voice, but Nathaniel didn’t have time to say much of anything as far as that was concerned. He rushed ahead.

“Tally, I don’t know where I am or how to get back. I don’t know how much air I have left, and I’ve been using the SAW so the battery is probably corroding, and I’m almost out of water.”

The answering silence spun out so long Nathaniel feared he’d lost the signal again.

“Aye, well, we’ve got a theory on that score.”

9.

“A BEACON IS A simple radio signal that often transmits a basic identification.” Wollf seemed so focused on helping Marcus to reassemble one of the SAWs that Tally was amazed she could talk at the same time. “Distance can be ascertained based on variations on the strength of radio waves. The…problem we have down here is that we have only these portable two-way transmission and reception devices. As ingenious as they are, altering one to send a continuous signal is not easy with what we have to hand. There.”

“Yer’ve done it?”

“We have,” Marcus Kaplan said. “Only because we watched Fontaine design this device in the first place. Without such a working knowledge of how Fontaine and Stone created this, the task would have taken days.”

He seemed to ignore the fact that Stevenson had done some of the engineering in this particular case. The young able seaman remained silent and focused on the task, soldering the last wire in place.

“Unfortunately…” Wollf exchanged a look with Kaplan that made the hairs stand up on the back of Tally’s neck. “This will not stop the corrosion of the battery, only slow it slightly.”

“Well, we have others.”

Wollf met his gaze. “Yes, but Stone does not, and we cannot know what having his SAW on all the time to receive the signal will do. Is it close to the time to check in on him?”

“Yes.” They had agreed that Nate turn off his SAW and rest while they finished their work. No point his continuing to wander aimlessly, and they had only been talking of a short delay as Kaplan and Wollf had been working on the alterations all morning. Despite this, Tally could feel the good cheer draining out of him as fast as the corrosive effect might burn out Nate’s battery. “What if…Can’t he just keep checking in every so often? Wouldn’t that work as well as this?”

“He can. And he could follow the power level on the SAW, but a timed signal will be more accurate and, I believe, use less power ultimately. It will be possible to send and receive incoming messages between the bursts, but I would advise against it.”

Tally thought of what it must feel like to be out there alone and lost, and even if it hadn’t been Nate, it wouldn’t have sat well with him to abandon a man in such a desolate place.

He was supposed to leave the outcome on this small piece of equipment? He wasn’t sure he could do that.

As if he’d read Tally’s thoughts, Stevenson looked up and met his gaze. He couldn’t tell for sure whether the young seaman was thinking the same but there was no way Tally was going to sit around waiting for Nate to find his way home to them.

10.

WHAT HE WOULDN’T HAVE given for the ship’s chronometer. Timing the intermittent beeps took more patience than Nathaniel would have thought any man could possibly possess. He could read the strength of the signal via a small needle, but it had a tendency to waver so he was also measuring time to double-check the reading. The sound of the beep itself was becoming to mean everything and nothing. All he had was his pocket watch and on that he had to note the second he heard the beep and then again when it repeated. If the duration grew greater he would know he was moving away. Closer he was heading in the right direction.

However, this required that he stop at intervals, time the signal, backtrack… All this was eating into time, and air, while his need for water grew. The beep had held steady for so long, Nathaniel began to experience the pure emotion of hate. He likened it to pure because there was no deviation, no degrees, no ambivalence. He hated the sound of that beep so much, he hardly noticed when the time between the signals changed.

Were the beeps closer together? He forced himself to stare at his watch and count the seconds. No. The time between was longer. Turning in the opposite direction, Nathaniel took a few steps that way, and then tested the signal several feet to the left and to the right.

He took the left hand route at a run, stopping every few feet to check his progress. At one spot it felt as if he’d wasted several minutes locating another direction. When he swayed from dizziness, he accepted he’d gone too long without a drink. He paused to drink his next allowance, only slightly dismayed to realise he had already finished the last of his water.

11.

EVERY SWALLOW RASPED LIKE he’d gulped down the dust of Luna. Nathaniel’s eyes felt too large for their sockets, his brain too big for his skull. By some miracle he perspired, aware every drop lost took him closer to dehydration. Several times his attention had wandered, and he’d lost time trying to work out the phase difference between the beeps. The last had happened to him even as he stared at the watch. He came around seconds later, realising a couple of minutes had gone by while he stared at the mocking face of his timepiece.

He tried again, this time working out the difference without moving, determined to check it just one more time.

He heard the beep and waited.

Waited.

Waited…

“No.” The word whispered out even as he shook the SAW. The action seemed to stir some life in it but that spark quickly faded. The battery was as good as dead. In what seemed to be a crazed action, Nathaniel held the SAW to his head and practically prayed to it.

Nothing happened.

Having no option, Nathaniel ran in the direction he’d chosen, but the heat down here, and for all he knew lack of oxygen—he’d not chosen to check his air because if he ran out there was nothing he could do about it—was playing havoc with him. Disorientated he would have no chance…not that he’d ever had one.

Nathaniel fell to his knees, putting his hands over his face, wanting to rip away the mask he’d come to hate almost as much as the sound of the beep—a sound ironically he now craved—and sat there, eyes closed tight in disbelief.

It cannot end like this. It must not.

He sent the thought out to anyone or anything that cared to hear him. He thought of Kaskuu, and knew his existence should not end like this.

There was one last thing he could do. A last scientific experiment. Instead of suffocating, he could indeed cast aside the mask and see what the atmosphere of Jupiter did to him. He’d never have a chance to write a scientific paper on it, but it still seemed preferable to gasping.

He was truly considering it, but never got a chance. A sound alerted him to movement at his back. Even before he turned he heard a voice.

“Jaysus. Mate, I hardly recognise ya.”

Nathaniel didn’t even bother to look around. He was sure he was hallucinating and quite done in. He sat, eyes closed, as something tugged at his back. Next, he heard a click and then…oh blessed artificial but breathable air flooded into the mask. Nathaniel took the deepest breaths until his head was swimming. He pitched forward, now dizzy from air and relief.

Chapter Eight

1.

NO MAN SHOULD HAVE survived.

Kaplan couldn’t shake that thought. How many times had Nathaniel Stone cheated death? Those around him perished, but not the man. Though, no-one could argue, Stone was a mess.

He sat in ripped and mixed-matched clothes, some stained, his shirt the only clean thing since another man had relinquished a garment from beneath his uniform. Most of Stone was covered in dried blood that, owing to the lack of sufficient water, he’d only been able to slough off where it showed, yet his skin had taken on a red veined mottled patterning that only a wash and a scrubbing brush might remove. Kaplan considered Stone would require several washes in disinfectant alone. His red hair was as red as it had ever been. Stone had combed it back as best as he was able but bits kept flaking off and the rest had crusted over. If he’d confessed to having found a slaughterhouse and spent a year there without bathing, Kaplan would have been inclined to believe him if he hadn’t known otherwise.

Even Wollf had started back, eyes wide, her gaze sweeping Stone from head to foot. Her brows had lifted as high as they could probably go when the small search party Bedford had sanctioned, consisting of Stevenson, Tally, and Midshipman Moore, had brought Stone stumbling back to camp. Now, an hour later, rested, fed and watered, although what he also required was sleep, Stone sat among them, while the team packed up their belongings, preparing to return to the cutter.

He’d laid his findings out for the researchers to examine. When Kaplan wasn’t looking at the man, he gazed at those discoveries and considered.

“Si, hollow, just as you say. Just like a bird, si si si.”

Quintana’s excitability could be amusing but Kaplan had too much on his mind to find it anything but distracting just now. Maybe he would have been able to dredge up a little enthusiasm had Stone brought him back a mineral to examine, but he wasn’t even sure about that. He had too many questions.

Nathaniel Stone’s great adventures.

Sheer dumb luck or something else at work? He need look no further than Jupiter to wonder about that, although he knew the professor had already been through more than most men ever envisioned even before this latest escapade.

“I wish I could have been there.” Quintana held the white dragon bone in his hands and stared at it with a loving expression. To anyone who didn’t know him, Quintana’s lack of interest in Stone’s appearance would have been shocking.

Kaplan’s main interest allowed him to quickly shift his thoughts back to Stone’s latest exploit.

Swallowed? By a dragon? Then for that very creature to die? In that event, Stone hacking his way out from inside… Yes, Kaplan could believe that was possible. Getting out of the animal had been the least of Stone’s worries in such a predicament.

He’d had no way to know what he would find outside. There were a hundred different ways he could have died other than within the beast. At the very least, Stone should have wandered the depths of Jupiter until his air ran out.

Kaplan couldn’t shake the feeling that Nathaniel Stone’s nine lives, if a man could have such a thing, had long expired; the man should be dead many times over.

Why wasn’t he?

Kaplan wished he had the answer, but his feelings for Stone had changed this day and as for the other team members, even if their thoughts were not as clear on this subject as his were, the mineralogist could see they were looking at Stone as if he were some sort of scientific curiosity. An element of wonder? Or possible future disaster?

“Your thoughts are what? Hmm?”

Kaplan longed to speculate more on Stone’s strange degree of luck, but unfortunately Quintana was speaking to him.

Although he was used to Quintana’s, at times, singular attention to detail that could swing to an abrupt change the moment something caught his attention, some element in his voice made Kaplan stare at the pieces of dragon bone Quintana was turning over in his hands. He looked but his attention remained focused too much on Stone to care. Bone… He often came across it in excavations, but it was not his specialty and the fact that Quintana would bother him with something so inconsequential to his field annoyed him more than it should have. Some men, even when behaving reasonably, could annoy without effort.

“Maybe your coral is not coral, hmm? And what do you think? Diatomaceous earth? Miss Wollf? Si?”

Shame on him. Quintana had not been addressing him at all, but Katharina Wollf. Despite his focus lying elsewhere, surprise and embarrassment captured Kaplan’s concentration. He was not the only person to look at Wollf, who uncharacteristically seemed surprised by the sudden attention—if the widening of her eyes indicated surprise.

“I…have heard of its existence, and I understand the theory of its use, although I question the benefits.”

Quintana had gone back to examining the bone as if he’d forgotten he’d consulted her, but after glancing at him, Wollf explained. “It is technically nothing more than fine powder ground from a fossilised single-cell diatoms.”

“Fascinating stuff to see,” Quintana chimed in. “Under a microscope the earth has the appearance of hollow cylinders. Holes lined in the sides. Some humans believe when consumed it has good… Um…power to absorb negative pollutants.”

“Bacteria,” Wollf enlightened. “Heavy metals, parasites, radiation.”

“Perhaps the dust here…it is not exactly the same.” Quintana crumbled just a small fragment of the bone between his fingers although it apparently pained him to do so. “If the draco… The dragons eat this, maybe it protects them.”

“From Jupiter itself?” Even Stone seemed to struggle with the proposition.

“Si. Any interpretation right now is only theory, but if true…”

“It could explain why they can fly outside. It could also have practical uses.”

“As may be, Professor,” Bedford interrupted them, “but we won’t have time to collect further samples.”

Quintana was already carefully encasing the specimens he had in protective packaging for transport back to the ship.

“Of course.” Stone appeared to accept the need to leave but managed to sound unhappy about it in those two small words. “I also found this.” He took what looked to be a gemstone out of his pocket and placed it down in the dust.

Before anyone else could swoop in, Kaplan picked up what he realised upon inspection was more crystal than gem. “What is this? Where did you find it?”

He waited a few seconds, only looking up when Stone did not reply. Only when Kaplan met his gaze did Stone say, “It’s a draco eye.”

He’s used Quintana’s phrase so it took a moment for Kaplan to realise what Stone was saying. “No,” Kaplan said on a laugh, but then grew sober when he saw Stone was serious.

“The same way I said the bones hardened and grew brittle, the eyes changed even as I watched. I was inside the eye socket as the lens hardened and frosted over. That is all that remained.”

Marcus struggled to believe that, but it was still an incredible find.

“Beautiful,” Bedford said. “We seem to find many incredible crystals through the Solar System, do you not agree? Remember your report of Phobos, Professor? How men were willing to kill each other over pretty rocks? This looks remarkably like a diamond, one already cut and polished at that.”

“Want to put another ring on Annabelle’s finger?” Stone muttered as Bedford walked away.

Tally gave Stone a disapproving look. “Nate!”

“Forgive me.” Stone sighed before gesturing at his own appearance. “I am tired.”

Tally apparently took him at his word but Kaplan was less satisfied. Still, the eye was something that definitely interested him more than tales of crawling out of a dragon’s skull.

The eye of a dragon… Draco as Quintana called it.

“Apresurar.”

Kaplan failed to understand the word but had no problem following Quintana’s gestures for him to hurry. He turned to finish the packing but could not resist lifting the crystal piece of “eye” and looking through it.

Before him, everything changed. He could see so much more, images overlapping, shimmering. Colours flashing, merging, separating, running into each other to form other colours which he wasn’t sure he could name.

Overcome, Kaplan looked away, blinking several times. Whatever these creatures saw was clearly not intended for the minds of men to cope with. Yet, how could he not take another glimpse?

He did, taking more care this time, although the same thing happened. The eye fed too much information into his brain, at once a wondrous and a hideous experience. Undaunted, he swept the area, wishing he could see what these creatures saw. How did Jupiter look to them? How did men? Even the ground jumped up at him, containing a microcosm of colours. The cartouches stood like sentinels, with a multi-dimensional appearance. On the surface…

Kaplan lowered the eye, swallowing and blinking. Spots of light flashed in his brain every time he closed his eyes, as if he’d gazed at something bright for too long.

“Kaplan?”

Someone called his name but he knew not who. As his vision cleared he wasted no time in looking through the eye again.

“Kaplan!”

He paid the voice no mind. What he saw took all of his attention.

The symbols on the stones were moving.

2.

“MARCUS!” NATHANIEL GRABBED THE man and jerked his arm down. Kaplan cried out as he almost dropped the eye. Quintana rushed in to save it, but Kaplan snatched it back.

It was as if he didn’t even know them. Then he searched their faces and finally looked at Nathaniel. Kaplan seemed shocked by his appearance, which was odd when Kaplan knew what he had been through. True, Kaplan had seemed…almost suspicious of him since his return, but Nathaniel had neither the inclination nor patience to worry about whatever aided the researcher, not after all Nathaniel had survived during the last few hours. Kaplan’s apparent unease aside, he had looked through the eye and his strange behaviour had grown worse. Even as Nathaniel watched, realisation, understanding…memory? All those things returned to Kaplan’s gaze.

“Stone!” Kaplan returned his grip. “Thank you, Stone. I was…lost there for a moment. This thing, it’s difficult to look through but, Stone, you have to see this. Look at the cartouches through the eye.”

Nathaniel obeyed, almost cursing at his first attempt. The sight threatened to overload his brain.

He required a few tries before he saw why Kaplan was so excited. When he realised, he spoke to Tally while still staring through the eye. “Fetch Bedford. Tell him we have to postpone leaving.” Nathaniel didn’t even concern himself with the commander’s reaction. They had come looking for something and had most definitely found it.

3.

“THE LEAST YOU CAN do is explain to me why you think this…” Bedford stared at the cartouches, unable to formulate a description for the symbols on them.

“I’m calling it dragon script,” Stone told him, putting down the eye and making more marks on the page.

“Dragon script?”

“Or draco script, if you prefer. Quintana does seem fond of that word.”

“And are you merely copying it down or trying to decipher it?”

“Both.” Although Stone answered his questions his attention was all for the task. He lifted the eye again, put it down, marked the page, muttered impolitely, and called Tally over to him. “Be a good fellow. Hold up the eye for me. And don’t be squeamish about it.”

“’Ardly squeamish, but this is…well, ya say it’s an eye ’n’ I believe ya.” Tally’s expression was one of distaste despite the eye being crystalised. At least he did as Stone bid.

Bedford wasn’t so sure he’d have wanted to touch it either, though he would have done so if necessary. “How long before you have it all down?” he asked.

“Copied?” Stone’s task seemed to go faster now being that he only required quick glances up and back down. “Not long.”

“Then save the deciphering for back on the ship.”

Stone stopped writing. “Bedford, I don’t think you grasp quite what this means. We can’t leave yet.”

Bedford recognised the look in Stone’s eyes. He’d seen it shining out of Annabelle’s gaze often enough. “We are running out of time,” he warned him.

“I appreciate—”

“I don’t think you do.” Bedford considered his next words, and then went ahead. “Your…contempt for my command notwithstanding, you seem to forget we have a matter of a direct order on the time allowed to us and the added complication of air to breathe. For one who came so close to suffocating just a short while ago, you seem to have a lack of interest in the subject.”

“Contempt?” Stone somehow managed to project utter disbelief into that one word. “If that applies, it goes in both directions. I would have thought you more than anyone would understand the importance of what we are doing and how those in charge do not always—”

“Enough.” Bedford managed to keep his voice down—it would not do for the crew to hear them arguing—but he was a syllable away from hissing at the man. “We have orders. We have a lack of air. What would you have me do?”

They stared at each other a moment and then Stone seemed to remember Tally at about the same time as Bedford. Both looked to the other man who pretended to be paying attention to anything but their disagreement. He still held the eye in the air.

“Was that question genuine?” Stone asked.

“Against my better judgement, but yes.”

“Send all your men bar Stevenson back to the cutter, leaving their spare air supply for the researchers. That will lengthen our available time here. They can also carry all unnecessary equipment back with them.”

“Our orders,” Bedford had to remind him.

“I will take responsibility.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“What’s his nibs gonna do out here?” Tally butted in.

“There is the brig,” Bedford said.

“Then it’ll be the brig for me then. I am somewhat well acquainted with Sovereign’s brig, you may recall, Commander. I’ll tell Theobald I refused to leave.” Stone went back to drawing, probably in part because, although he knew orders were orders, it stood to reason some assignments ran outside of some “rules” and directives, and Bedford could indeed spare him more time.

“Gallant, Professor, but more like for both of us.” Bedford could see none other but him and the professor getting the blame, and in truth, such missions were indeed in part under the commanding officer to direct, but he would use every ploy he had to give Stone a push. Researchers could be an argumentative bunch.

“An unfortunate possibility, I grant you. What could you do if I indeed refused to leave?”

“Arrest you.”

“Do you have enough men to arrest the entire research team?”

Bedford jumped at the voice coming from behind him. Wollf stood looking down and he had to resist the urge to spring to his feet in defence of his position. Instead, he regarded her and forced out the question, “You would argue with me?”

“That may be unlikely.”

Bedford noted she didn’t give him a direct denial.

“Some of the others would possibly stand with Professor Stone. The captain may throw us all in the brig if he likes, and there may be disciplinary action upon a return to Earth.” Wollf spoke as if she were musing. “This is all speculation. The captain… The ship… The mission…requires researchers. Researchers who are quite capable of bringing that fact home to him, if forced so to do.”

Bedford shook his head, lost for argument. Maybe he was better off directing things from a lower standpoint after all, with Theobald in charge of the ship. This team would take some handling. He looked at Stone. “Theobald will likely keel haul you if there is some way to do it.”

“Then I will pay that price,” Stone told him.

Bedford sat back surprised. This find was truly important then. Despite the sense of urgency to return to Sovereign, and despite his personal feelings towards Stone, he did not doubt the professor in this. “What do you think you have here?”

“Something bigger than our orders. Bigger than our captain. I believe this is a map to something extraordinary.”

They were wasting valuable time arguing. All Bedford could come up with was compromise. “Very well, Professor. We have some time left and I will do as you say and send a couple from my team topside to possibly extend it, but if you have failed to find this something amazing in the allotted time, we are leaving.”

“I suggest you send Quintana back,” Wollf said. Bedford looked at her. “He is…portly.” She had clearly chosen that word with some care. “He struggled on the way down here and I would hate for him to struggle to leave quickly.”

“No.” Stone spoke without looking up from his task. “I agree, but not…yet. I require his services awhile yet. He can pair up and leave with others as the time grows shorter.”

Wollf looked surprised but gave Stone a quick nod. Confused and showing more faith in their advice than he was feeling, Bedford decided he would again compromise and send two of his men to the surface—the same two who had joined their team last.

Before Bedford could move, Stone stood up abruptly and walked over to one of the tablets. He set his findings aside and reached out to trace parts of the script. Shaking his head he went on to another, then moved back before looking at a third. He stood up, stared at them for a time, during which the others all exchanged glances. Fascinated and wondering what Stone had found, Bedford could only watch.

Before one of them had a chance to enquire, the professor snapped his fingers. He followed the same pattern, choosing the middle cartouche first, then the right, back to centre, the left, then centre again. Each time he examined the symbols, he pressed one of them. Each time, the symbols he pressed either sunk into or rose up from the cartouches.

As he pressed the last, a grating sound filled the air. The ground began to shift, causing everyone to take a hasty step back. Under their feet, a sloped path appeared leading down.

4.

TALLY WATCHED NATHANIEL REACH down yet again to pat the pocket containing the eye. Nate seemed rather too attached to that thing for his liking. He longed to cast it aside, stomp on it, and crush it beneath his heel. He couldn’t explain his dislike. None of the others seemed to have an aversion to touching it, exclaimed at its beauty, but they were taken with scientific interest, and Wollf… Well, maybe he was being discriminating when it came to her sex, for he had imagined her interest would be of a woman examining something gemlike. Oddly, she seemed the most disinterested, more concerned with his handing her lucky playing card back. Quin and Kaplan on the other hand had been delighted with the find, although Kaplan appeared to have a problem with how Nate had obtained it.

Out of the head of a dragon. Whoever would have thought it? Tally didn’t know whether to admire the man for his tenacity or to feel a little creeped out.

The eye certainly made his skin crawl. Something unnatural about carrying an eye in a pocket. Something unearthly about the way it had crystalised like that. Talk about a reminder that he was very far from Earth. If he ever got to tell his adventures over a pint down the pub, no-one was ever going to feckin’ believe him.

The bones as well as the eye made Tally shudder. Tally couldn’t help wondering if that was what would happen to a man dying on this planet. He really wanted Nate to get rid of those things but he knew the researchers would never hear of it, and maybe they were right and these things would turn out to be important and necessary.

Nate said the eye was mentioned on the dragon script. He hadn’t finished deciphering it. Some of the cartouches were a key; some when combined a set of instructions. Nathaniel had concentrated on that, opened the floor under their feet in the very spot Tally had been kipping. To think, he could have fallen into the thing if he’d had a chance of a rest at the same time Nate had opened it. The path leading down was the very one they were following now.

The first part of the passageway had a gentle slope although the low ceiling had forced them to duck or even crouch in parts. Then as the slope levelled off they’d entered a horizontal corridor leading in one direction only. If not for the growing heat and the unevenness of the floor and ceiling the journey would have been easy going.

Tally was content enough. He’d been in worse-looking pubs, although he’d had a moment of hesitation when the thought of that entrance closing on them had entered his head. Bedford had apparently thought the same for he left a man at the opening with directions of how to operate the mechanism should they require it.

Bedford made a stop now, lifting one of the SAWs to contact the sentry.

“All quiet, sir. Nothing to report. Over.”

“And the opening is as we left it? Over.”

“Aye, sir. No changes. Over.”

As Bedford signed off, telling the man he would be in touch, Tally had to admit to feeling relieved. Seemed they were safe enough but he was aware of a growing sense of impatience from which only he felt immune. Nevertheless, it must have begun to affect him for when the path took a turn heading up Tally experienced palpable relief.

When they at last emerged into a cave his relief was tainted somewhat by the closeness of the space.

5.

NATHANIEL MOVED DEEPER INTO the cave while the others remained in a group by the entrance. He could see they were suitably captivated, or at least surprised, although Nathaniel felt neither of these things. He’d expected…something more spectacular.

The roughly circular area consisted of an outer ring of stone as if someone had cut a passageway for some great architect to work on the middle construct. Walkways—short gaps in the stone—allowed for attendants to move into the centre and probably maintain the machinery that lay there silent, almost brooding.

The smaller cave was still approximately fifty feet across, but the low ceiling and tight outer ring made it a place of shadows where imagination could fray the nerves.

All light, the little there was, came from the central machinery. Both the light and the metal gleamed golden. From a central column of serrated rings, several spokes pointed outwards, veering at right angles straight to the roof of the cavern. At the top of these spokes, round objects of various sizes balanced precariously. Some were missing.

“What is it?” Stevenson asked.

Nathaniel spared him a glance. Being that they had one on the bridge of Sovereign the explanation was hardly necessary. Stevenson understood perfectly well, although in this instance, maybe his confusion was understandable enough. “An orrery…the like of which we’ve never seen before.”

“Orrery? Like the one…?” Tally glanced at him and fell silent. “I mean, what’s an orrery?”

Tally knew very well, having seen one in the City of Light and Science, but Nathaniel gave him a smile. Tally was keeping his own counsel and that of Nathaniel’s—when in doubt the Irishman would keep his mouth shut. The orrery they had seen back on Luna had displayed balls of floating light representative of planets, although that particular example had contained many more planets than they knew of in their Solar System…as did this one. There the similarities ended alas. Nathaniel wondered when he’d last seen something looking so ancient and worn.

To support Tally’s evasion, Nathaniel answered his question. “An orrery is a mechanical device depicting the Solar System. The movement illustrates relative position and motion of the planets.”

“But this one isn’t working,” Stevenson said. His tone and expression had taken on a sense of wonder, yet his gaze drifted over the equipment and he quickly spotted that which Nathaniel had already realised. “Some of the gears are out of alignment.”

“Yes. And some of the spheres are missing.” Nathaniel cast his gaze about, pointing to a couple on the ground when he spied them. For the rest they would no doubt have to look more carefully.

Kaplan collected one of the two Nathaniel had seen, carrying the sphere with his arms wrapped around it, holding it tightly against him. “Is this what we’re supposed to find?”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And you believe we can fix it?”

Kaplan’s words seemed to contradict his expression. Nathaniel was aware that escaping the dragon, finding the eye, the eye being the key to understanding the cartouches, and the cartouches leading them here, was too incredible a design. He was on the verge of losing what rapport he had with some of the crew. If word of his miraculous escapes spread throughout the ship, he dreaded to think how most of those on board would view him. There were those who would follow for the good of the mission, and a handful who trusted him, but the rest would look at him as if he were akin to a witch, something to be treated with suspicion and superstition. People would look at him much as Kaplan was doing now. If he managed to mend this contraption and it resulted in them obtaining something to aid them on the journey, he could imagine how it would further damage some of his already tenuous relationships; nonetheless, he wanted to say he could but try when Bedford once more reminded him of time.

“How long would you require, if you can?”

“Impossible to say, but I suggest we use every last available second in the attempt.”

“Why?”

Before Nathaniel could reply, Wollf stepped forwards. She had placed a hand over her mouth in apparent shock. Kaplan glanced at her, then to where she was looking, his eyes going wide. They had just seen what Nathaniel was sure he and Tally already knew.

“We see it too, Professor. I believe if Arnaud were here he’d say, mon dieu,” Kaplan said.

Ignorance combined with the pressure of this command would make Bedford snappy. Nathaniel wasted no time enlightening him or the remaining members of the party. “An orrery operates in a heliocentric circle, with the sun represented as the centre of the Solar System.”

“Some claim we should use a geocentric system, making Earth the central component,” Wollf cut in. “We are more enlightened these days.”

It took Bedford a moment to apparently catch up. “Are you saying this orrery is neither geo nor heliocentric?”

“Si.” Quintana dragged the word out. “I cannot believe I failed to see that.”

Bedford looked back at the mechanism in front of him. “Then what is represented here as the central point of the Solar System?”

“That I do not know.” Nathaniel stepped into the internal ring. “The middle sphere is one of those missing. I can tell you this design displays far more than the Solar System as we know it.”

“There are also too many moons even for Jupiter,” Wollf said. “This conforms with my findings on the way here, that Jupiter has many more moons than we believed, but we’ve still only seen a few of them. And if this part of the orrery is accurate, we have to believe it is possible the rest is too.”

“Yes.” Nathaniel gave one of the spokes a push expecting it to refuse to move, but it shifted, screeching a little as it did. He could tell from the movement that this mechanism would revolve like any orrery. “This will operate on a diurnal motion and the positioning is to scale.”

Bedford was staring at him. “This is another map?”

Nathaniel nodded. “What else it might be, I cannot say until I get it started.”

“Then I suggest you make haste.” Bedford looked from one to the other until the researchers all turned to stare at him. “Based on our current rate of consumption, I can only give you an additional six hours, Stone. More than that and I’m liable to lose what authority I have on board Sovereign, so you had better be able to make sense of this map and give me…us something to report back to the captain. He’s going to want a damn good reason why we’re late.”

“I think I may have found it,” Quintana said from one side of the cavern. For one moment his voice seemed bodiless, but then he stood from where he’d been crouching. At first it was impossible to tell what the odd shape in his hands was until he walked towards the central ring and stepped inside it. In his hands were the remains of a Drobate skull.

6.

“I SHOULD BE THE one to help you.” In his eagerness to press his point, Stevenson laid a hand on Nathaniel’s arm. At the other man’s quick glance at his hand, he withdrew it again. Did Nathaniel believe he meant anything by that touch than was appropriate? Well, maybe he did, but not here and now. As Nathaniel glanced across at Bedford, Stevenson deduced by hope alone that the professor was just being cautious.

“And why is that?”

“Why I should help?” He waited for Nathaniel’s nod. “Because of what’s happened to me. Because…there’s something in this room. I know you can feel it too.”

“You know what I’m feeling now, hmm?”

Nathaniel’s smile was one of humouring him but Stevenson wasn’t fooled. “I can see it in your expression, the way you keep looking at that thing. There’s energy here, something. It’s coming from…” Stevenson looked over at the orrery. “The middle. Below. I’m sure of it.”

“Even if that’s true, what makes you believe you’re suitable?”

“Because of what the Drobates did to me.”

He’d expected Nathaniel to agree, but as the conversation continued, the professor’s expression grew hardened, resolved. He finished arranging the notes he was going to use to try to repair the orrery and then turned to face Stevenson.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that thing.”

Stevenson was so surprised he took a step back. “I…”

“No!”

“Trouble here?” Bedford approached.

“No, Commander.” Nathaniel sounded very decided about that, but apparently Bedford wasn’t about to take his word.

“Stevenson?”

He hesitated, shot Nathaniel an apologetic look. He couldn’t lie to his commanding officer. “I was volunteering, sir, to help repair the orrery.”

“And I was rejecting his offer.”

“Why?”

“Kaplan is going to help.”

“Wouldn’t two working be faster?”

“No!”

For a moment, Nathaniel and Bedford appeared to undergo a staring contest of which Stevenson was the only spectator. He wished he’d never said a word, when Bedford looked at him again.

“Any particular reason you’re putting yourself forward for this?”

Stevenson opened his mouth but didn’t know how to explain the buzzing in the room without sounding crazy. This time, Nathaniel spoke for him.

“There seems to be some kind of energy emitting into this room. Stevenson believes his contact with the Drobates may insulate him. I believe the opposite is true.”

To Stevenson’s surprise Bedford was nodding. “Energy you say?”

“Yes, sir. Some sort of…buzz.” That was inadequate but would have to do.

Bedford looked around. “I can feel it too, though I can’t say…maybe I don’t feel it quite the same way you do.”

“I need to get on. Kaplan will assist me.”

Bedford looked at Nathaniel once again as the professor pushed through them both. Stevenson didn’t know what decision would be made but he wanted to help. He took a few steps to the centre of the orrery and even before he attempted to touch it, went to one knee. He was sure the only thing that stopped him from vomiting was all the nerves in his body tightening, making him feel as if his body was shutting down.

He was aware of hands on him, people dragging him, and then he was gasping at the side of the room.

“What I feared,” Nathaniel said.

“Kaplan?” Bedford’s voice.

Stevenson managed to clear his head enough to watch the researcher march over to touch the orrery. Kaplan shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“That settles that at least. Come on, lad.” Bedford reached for Stevenson, no doubt to help him out of the room.

Stevenson wanted to argue but there was no point. He managed a last look back to see Nathaniel watch him being taken from the room. Then the professor swung his gaze around to look at Kaplan with the most pained expression on his face.

7.

AN HOUR LATER BEDFORD sought out Stone again. “Stone, I am deadly serious. If you do not think you can repair this within the time I’ve stated then we may as well stop now. I will give you every moment I can, but if this isn’t worth putting our positions…our lives on the line, and if there is no hope—”

“Please, Commander.” Stone looked down at him. “You are wasting precious air talking and what time you’ve given me. I would not risk this without good reason. We all know what we believe the central sphere to be.”

Planet X. There was no denying it and something about the workings of the orrery set Bedford’s skin tingling. Time had no meaning in this cave aside from that every breath drawn was one less the breathing apparatus could provide. He was but a visitor in an alien landscape. He knew none of life’s secrets, less than he knew of the universe. His beloved and her child were so many miles away they might as well not have existed in that moment.

His thoughts for once shifted from Annabelle to Kai. The result of a pregnancy forced upon Annabelle when she was a young girl and yet now she wouldn’t give up the child for any world. Kai had taken to Annabelle faster than he’d believed possible, but Bedford had required far longer to earn even a fraction of the girl’s trust and he was risking that burgeoning relationship even as it had started to bloom. He hated to think what damage his absence might do to their already tentative rapport. Returning to her with stories of great achievements, battles, and finds would help, but still sooner was far better than later. He was out in the aether for good reasons, but Stone knew how much he was risking so he’d better be right and this had better be a star map to Planet X because…

Because Bedford needed it to be. A map could cut weeks off their expedition overall and as ridiculous as it seemed, every day saved from being away from his wife and the child that he was quite willing to take on as his, that time was precious to him. So despite his arguing he was going to give Stone every moment he possibly could. He just couldn’t stretch their air reserves much more.

Speaking of atmosphere, the ambiance in the cave was oppressive. The silence seemed to speak of unseen things whispering. Bedford wasn’t one to believe in ghosts, but this place had the same air as the cave at Greenore Gulch in Arizona where they had found the remains of a full Drobate skeleton, one historically worshipped by the Apache no less. That they should find another skull here… Bedford felt he should be amazed but he was not. The only thing that worried him was that Stone had insisted the palaeontologist accompany them into the cave almost as if he’d believed that if such a thing was to be found then Quintana would be the one to find it.

Quintana had spent some time down here looking around but when he could find nothing else aside from a few small bones possibly from the same skeleton, he accepted that whatever discoveries remained were for future researchers should they come this way. He’d packed up the skull and gone ahead with Wollf and Bedford’s last crewmember to return to the cutter. The only people to remain besides Bedford and Stone were Kaplan, Tally, and Stevenson. That should at least prolong what remained of their air supply for it left them one more canister each once their current capsules ran out, and they would need a portion of that to make it back up top.

The air would last long enough, but he didn’t know if he could give Stone the time he surely needed.

This machinery was bigger than any orrery he’d ever seen. What it presented, immense. He could only feel gratitude that the Russians had so obviously missed it. Although they had set out on the same initial course as Imperator, and were heading for the same point, alterations in their flight had to be made due to the constant shifting of the planets’ orbit around the sun. If the Russians had stopped off on Jupiter they’d found no evidence of it, and clearly this space had remained untouched for years of a number Bedford had no desire to consider.

Whether Stone could get it working in time seemed less likely as the minutes ticked by. He’d already been through an ordeal and, running a hand over his face as if he could just wipe his own exhaustion away, Bedford couldn’t recall when any of them had last slept. He was almost dead on his feet, and he hadn’t been through anything like Stone had.

This place didn’t help. Stevenson claimed something in the room set his head buzzing of which they’d seen the evidence when he almost collapsed. Bedford could have sworn Stone knew what the seaman referred to, but he refused to take a break, and Stevenson had only taken one upon orders, although he’d had the audacity to protest. Bedford had allowed him to rest some distance into the corridor rather than waste time arguing with him.

Tally remained steadfast for the most part, ever protective of Stone, but he too had taken breaks, acquiescing a little more easily each time Bedford told him to rest. He often joined Stevenson in the corridor, and at other times switched with Bedford up top guarding the entrance.

The only two not to leave the room at all was Stone and Kaplan.

The most obvious assistant would have been Stevenson, but contact with the orrery seemed to produce waves of sickness that were more time consuming than productive. Tally didn’t have the dexterity. Wollf had tried to follow Stone’s directions, but she was too tall to get into the smaller places that needed adjustment, just as Tally was too large. Nathaniel couldn’t decipher the instructions as he went while trying to make repairs alone, so in the end the manual labour had fallen to Kaplan. He’d swiftly become as enamoured with repairing this contraption as Stone was.

While Bedford admired both man’s tenacity, he wasn’t convinced. Even if Stone and Kaplan could put this machinery back together, much of it looked in a poor state of repair. He checked on them periodically as gears were replaced and began to mesh. He touched one of the spokes now, and his fingers came away covered in metallic particles.

Sometime later he blinked, wondering how long he’d stood there. His hand was still out, his fingers still covered in orange dust. Stone and Kaplan still worked, and he could have been standing there a second, an hour, or a century. He had the sense of standing inside the great workings of a clock in which time meant nothing. This wasn’t the first occasion when Bedford found stretches of time spinning out in which he remembered nothing, his mind as blank of thought as he was of emotions. Annabelle was an ever present “idea”, but he began to lose his sense of her being out there in the universe, back on Earth waiting for him. He began not to care.

That was when Bedford backed out of the chamber. He took a last look at Stone and Kaplan and left them to it.

He stumbled up the corridor, gathering Stevenson on the way and pushing him ahead of him, ignoring his half-hearted protests. Something was very wrong here, but he no longer doubted they might find the item for which Stone was looking. The contraption was so antiquated in construction and design that Bedford should have taken it for a piece of junk. The way gears ground together, squealing in protest, told him it would never work, or if it did, not properly. Why then did he believe Stone when the man said this was important machinery?

Because no-one would hide it away like this if it didn’t serve a specific purpose. No-one would place such protections around it.

The place had the feeling of a trap, and someone only set a trap around something worth protecting.

Chapter Nine

1.

“ODD, THIS,” KAPLAN SAID, lifting another gear onto the central spar. “It’s at once beautiful and yet incredibly ordinary, almost dull. And I don’t just mean owing to however long it’s been here.”

“I’m not one for ascetics. No, that one first.”

Kaplan looked to where Stone was pointing. “You’re sure?” He took Stone’s answering look as a definite yes. The disgust in his expression was almost comical.

Nodding, Kaplan moved over to the gear indicated and picked it up. He’d questioned Stone for the hell of it; didn’t truly doubt him. Kaplan had lost his uncertainty that they would fix this thing, and that Stone would be the hero of the moment once again. He’d find whatever they were looking for because either Stone had the luck of the demonic or something else was guiding him…or them, or even the mission. The idea of an unknown outside influence both excited and terrified him.

The cogs varied in size from very small to quite large, but size didn’t necessarily account for weight. Some of the smallest were the most heavy, which made no sense when judged purely on weight or thickness. He and Stone had already agreed the various weights had to be according to density and materials.

He set about fixing it and then frowned. He hated to ask but needed to, if only because of the monotony of the work. Besides, this next bit truly puzzled him. “Are you sure, Stone? If I put these in as you’ve specified, that leaves a gear on the upper part of the differential housing without contact with other gears.”

“I have noticed. While it’s peculiar, I’m surmising there must be a reason for it.”

Or the professor had miscalculated and Kaplan was currently breaking his back, putting gears into position, for no motive; those thoughts were part hopeful because if that were true then his thoughts of something out there directing their course was then less likely. He had no time to waste arguing. For a time he worked in silence, but as he began to sweat, the silence, broken only by instructions from Stone, began to make him nervous.

Was the room getting warmer? He doubted it. His perspiring was most likely down to exertion only. He’d no idea why Stevenson had become so ill. There was something very…oppressive about this room, though, and it wasn’t helped by what he was wearing. He stripped off his jacket with an apology to Stone and rolled up his sleeves. The perspiration on his forehead he could wipe away, but the breathing mask made it extremely uncomfortable around his face. When his discomfort grew to a point where he wanted to cast it away, he spoke as a distraction.

“What do you think we can call this? I’m not sure orrery fits.”

“Why?” Nathaniel actually sounded semi-interested.

“Well, a tellurion shows the Earth and Luna revolving around the Sun. Earth’s moon rotating around the Earth and—”

“I’m quite aware,” Nathaniel said, sounding amused.

“Quite. A lunarium shows Luna’s complex motions as it revolves around Earth. A grand orrery shows orbital period and rotation rate.”

“Your point?” He could hear Nathaniel growing bored now.

“This I believe will indeed work like a grand orrery.”

“I would have thought Wollf would be more qualified to make that assumption.”

“Possibly. Call it a hunch if you like.”

“Not something I would have thought of you approving.”

Kaplan looked over, surprised when both he and Stone smiled. “An unusual occurrence I grant you, but these are unusual circumstances. There is something of which I’m more sure, though.” He lifted a larger gear and after struggling to balance it, managed to slot it into place. “Many orreries aren’t built to scale. That’s another difference.”

He had Stone on that one.

“You believe…?”

Kaplan took a break and watched the gears ticking over in the professor’s brain as he stared at the machine that was coming together.

“You may be right,” Stone said.

“I’m sure I am. I know just enough of our Solar System to work out that this part is to scale.” Kaplan indicated what they had worked out were the Earth, the Sun, and Jupiter. “It applies that the rest is also.” He almost laughed. “Do you know I could use your pocket watch, Stone, and create a simple orrery showing the Sun in the centre. Place Earth on the minute hand, and Jupiter on the hour.”

“Twelve revolutions of Earth around the Sun, for every one of Jupiter,” Stone said. “That is imperfect and would not maintain accuracy.”

“Spoilsport,” Kaplan replied.

Stone frowned as well as smiled at him perhaps to show his annoyance wasn’t real, pausing in his calculations, but then his smile slipped away. His frown did not. The very fact that neither of them had time to waste meant Stone’s action of staring at him caught Kaplan’s attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“I could ask the same of you. Tell me, Kaplan, how are you feeling?”

“A little…giddy, actually. I must be short of breath from straining to repair this thing.”

Stone stared at him a moment longer. “Yes, that must be it.”

Kaplan dusted off his hands. He didn’t look as bad as Stone, but none of them were looking pretty. “What’s next?”

2.

“I’M NOT A MILITARY man. Ya can’t keep me outta there. Ya can’t keep me from looking out for Nate.”

“I’m hardly trying to do that.”

Bedford could have fooled him. Tally glanced at Stevenson who was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees bent, elbows on knees. He seemed much recovered, but if Bedford should keep anyone out of that there room beyond it was the young able seaman. He sure wasn’t looking very able-bodied. When he saw Stevenson had his head lowered, and his eyes closed, Tally took Bedford by apparent surprise by grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him a little way along the corridor.

“Ya been in there. Ain’t ya seen?”

He expected the usual military bluster, a set stiff upper lip. Tally didn’t like seeing Bedford turn pale. The man was already sweating. Tally began to suspect they were all starting to be affected by whatever the feck was in there. He didn’t like the thought of Nate being so close. He didn’t like what he’d noticed was happening to Marcus. He… Well, he rather liked the guy. Not in the way he cared for Nate, but theirs was an easy friendship. Had been from the start.

“Of course I have.” Bedford shrugged off his hand, which was when Tally realised he’d still had hold of him.

The two men stared at each other. All sorts of unkind thoughts went through Tally’s mind, but at the end of the day, Bedford wasn’t the one he was mad at. He didn’t know who to be mad at, precisely, and that made his Irish blood simmer over.

“I don’t envy ya blokes being in charge. Not always. Some a’ya are a bunch of gobshites, but some a’ya… Well, don’t figure there’s a need to finish this little speech. I still wanna check on Nate.”

“And the more you delay him, the longer both men will be in there.”

Ah…hell if Bedford weren’t talking sense ’n’ all. Even so… “One of us has to go in. It’s time.”

Bedford nodded. “Yes it is, and like before I’ll go.”

3.

“BEDFORD, HAVE YOU NOTICED?”

Bedford had struggled to drag himself down there for another check and so this time he was late. He had been dreading the moment Stone would ask the same thing Tally had but he’d expected it. “Yes. It’s why I’ve kept the others out of here.” Keeping Tally, especially Tally, and Stevenson from coming down had taken too much of his energy but he had done it, although he’d very much wanted to send someone—anyone—else in his place. Tally had seen the changes in Kaplan but the last three visits had been Bedford’s. He didn’t know what Tally would say if he could see Kaplan now.

He looked at Stone feeling a little shamefaced, certain the professor could see it, not sure if his disgrace came in thoughts of self-preservation or allowing another man to grow sick before his very eyes. “At first I was concerned…”

“That the cavern was the cause and that I might too be affected.”

“Yes. But you seem to be fine.”

“Apparently so. Therefore it is proximity to the…machine, if that is indeed what this is, or it is a consequence of coming into direct contact.”

“I made that supposition.”

“Yet you did nothing to stop it.”

Although Stone projected no hint of reproach into his voice, Bedford felt it. He shuddered to think how fast Stevenson might have succumbed had he been able to touch that thing. “What are you saying, Stone? That you want me to call this off?” He looked at the professor rather than at Kaplan, but Stone stared intently at the researcher.

“No. This is too important. I just…” A frown came over Stone’s face, and he reached up to touch that space on his forehead as if he was surprised by his own reaction. “I cannot say this sits easy with me.”

“Or with me.” For all the attention Stone paid him, Bedford might not have bothered speaking, but he was glad the situation made Stone uneasy. There was a hint of the man Bedford had once known.

“I…don’t want to do this. Kaplan is a good man. Perhaps…if we stop now…” Stone’s frown grew more pensive.

That statement he definitely had no need to finish. “What then? It may already be too late for him, or he’ll finish in time and we can do something to reverse whatever is happening. Stone, you cannot take over from him. You are more important to the mission than he is.”

“I understand that and had no intention of taking over.”

Stone sounded very undecided about that, so much so Bedford was a little taken aback, his feelings towards the man once more wavering, though he was glad the professor understood his was a more important position on board Sovereign.

“I’m just not used to…ordering men to die.”

“Nor should anyone be, ever. But it comes with my job, Stone, so let me carry it if I must. Anyway, we cannot be sure. We don’t know things are too late for him.”

Bedford turned to look across at the mineralogist. He’d grown thinner since he’d begun working, although that hardly seemed possible. His cheekbones stood out starkly. His skin had taken on a bluish tone that was all too easy to recognise.

“You don’t suppose…” Bedford looked at Stone hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

“That he’s turning into something like Vladimir Tereshkov did on Luna?”

Something hideous, inhuman and very like a Drobate? Yes. Bedford couldn’t dismiss that notion entirely.

Stone shrugged. “You can speculate as well as I can. You’d better get back; we have work to do. It will likely go faster with fewer interruptions. There’s no need to keep checking on us.”

“Stone…” Bedford suppressed a sigh. “Nathaniel.” He removed his gun and as inconspicuously as possible, handed it over. When Stone looked at him, Bedford said. “Take it. Just as a precaution. Should something go seriously wrong with Kaplan, one of us may have to shoot him, and I’d rather you had some form of protection on you.”

For a moment he believed the professor would refuse, but then he took hold of the pistol, setting it aside hidden from Kaplan’s view but safely within reach.

“I’ll skip some of the checks but one of us will be down again soon to see how you progress.” He turned away and hurried out.

4.

EARLIER, KAPLAN HAD SEEMED imbibed with energy. Too much so and that had given Nathaniel cause for concern. Had he known then that it was the first sign of something wrong, would he have stopped this?

He didn’t know, and didn’t want to waste time wondering. Still, Kaplan deserved his concern. Some believed even God should be brought to task for the bad things that happened in life. Nathaniel had acted more directly, but if not Kaplan then…who?

This is why I didn’t bring Arnaud.

How had he known? Was that Kaskuu at work? Had Kaskuu protected the other man because he meant something to Nathaniel, or because he was more important to the mission? And if not Kaskuu then perhaps one of the other Watchers…? They were scattered throughout the Solar System; were they protecting Nathaniel?

All good and very exasperating questions.

“Sssss-stone?”

Kaplan had just completed the last of a set of tasks Nathaniel had asked of him, but he’d taken longer to do it this time.

“Kaplan, are you all right?” The question was superfluous. Kaplan was obviously far from all right, but Nathaniel needed a sense of whether the man would last.

“I’m…fine.” Kaplan sounded as if he were gasping. He wiped his forearm across his brow. “Just…give me a minute and I’ll be ready.” Despite the reassurance, he swayed on his feet. “This mask is just so…stifling.” He lifted a hand to his face, the action widening Nathaniel’s gaze and bringing him to his feet.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but he was too late. Kaplan wrenched the mask free, and took a breath.

Nathaniel stood frozen, waiting for Kaplan to keel over and die. He imagined all kinds of things. Kaplan writhing on the ground, clawing at his throat, turning purple and blue, maybe frothing at the mouth. Kaplan did none of these things.

The man turned to face him, and smiled. “That’s better,” Kaplan said. “Splendid. So, old chap, what do you want me to do next?”

5.

“YOU NEED TO EAT SOMETHING…Nathaniel.”

The hesitation came as Erasmus lowered his voice, although he’d already spoken softly. Nathaniel heard but his attention was so riveted on Kaplan that for a moment he ignored him. He was also aware of Erasmus looking at the mineralogist, but still made no move until Erasmus tugged on his arm.

“Nathaniel, please. You must take nourishment.”

“And what of Kaplan?” Nathaniel asked looking at Erasmus. The able seaman returned the look from under his brow, gaze darting away with an almost guilty look. Clearly Kaplan wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss, and Nathaniel couldn’t blame him after all he’d been through on Luna.

It was good of Erasmus to come in here at all, spoke well of the man’s friendship. He directed his gaze again at Kaplan. He now had no doubt this was why he’d wanted to bring Fenn. Not that he wanted to put Jack Fenn in Kaplan’s place either. He’d rather put someone he didn’t know, which wasn’t any better, though… Nathaniel laughed inwardly aware the reaction was very human. He’d needed someone capable and Fenn would have probably been able to repair this thing even faster than Kaplan. He had that kind of instinctive skill. Kaplan understood the mechanics but lacked that innate intuition. He was intelligent, sort of…harmless, and companionable; had a few quirks but overall would fall into the category of a “nice chap”. Nathaniel would have chosen Fenn over Kaplan and had chosen Kaplan over Arnaud. He would have chosen Kaplan over Erasmus too, and Tally, so what did that say about his emotions?

He was too tired to tell, and yes, he supposed he was hungry, empty anyway. Erasmus was right, he should take sustenance, but he was not the only one. He doubted he could entice the researcher away from the task to eat or drink if he tried. He was very aware of time spinning out and minutes ticking by, so that self-interest in the mission also stayed his hand. He didn’t want food even for himself, but he took it anyway and made a show of popping a morsel into his mouth. He did take a drink to chase it down with more desire than he had for the food.

“Commander Bedford wants me to return to the cutter. He’d like Tally to go with me if I could convince him, though you’re probably the only one who can do that.” Again Erasmus gave Kaplan that quick glance, swift look away consideration. “I said I’d let you know.”

“Sent you in rather than come himself?” Nathaniel couldn’t stop the small smile that twisted his lips.

“I insisted…as much as I could. I implied it was better for us all that he not try to do it all himself.”

“Quite.”

Erasmus didn’t have to explain that Bedford would react rather like a captain remaining on a sinking ship. He’d be the last to leave rather than leave a man behind, about which they were going to have to exchange words.

“Professor… Nathaniel…” Erasmus reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. As Nathaniel had rolled back a sleeve that meant his touch came into contact with skin, but neither man pulled away. Erasmus waited until Nathaniel met his gaze. “I have to ask. When you didn’t want me here…” Erasmus broke off and instead of making it a question, what came out of his mouth was statement. “You knew. I don’t know how, but instinctively you knew. I think…I think I sensed then you wanted to tell me but didn’t know how to make sense of it all. You didn’t want me doing this because you knew it would adversely affect anyone who came into contact with it. I want to…thank you, but…” Again, Erasmus’s gaze drifted over to Kaplan. He swallowed, the movement in his throat very clear. “I do thank you. I mean, I was so sick I couldn’t have helped anyway, but had I known…” More shaking of his head interrupted the flow. “I’d like to be brave again. I’d like to say I’d sacrifice myself for a greater good. I would.”

His whole demeanour said he just didn’t know if that was something he was capable of any more. After a few seconds, Erasmus looked back. His hand still lay on Nathaniel’s arm.

“However important this thing is, don’t overstay. The commander will try dragging you out of here and please, I pray you not to fight him. When it’s time to go, you must leave. However important this find is, you are more important than it. I know that.”

“Important?” Nathaniel held Erasmus’ gaze, wondering if the man flushed from the heat in the cave or his words.

“T-to the mission. You’ve been part of it from the start. You mean too much to the mission. To…all of us.”

Nathaniel patted Erasmus’ hand and then let his fingers linger there. “Don’t worry, Erasmus. I have no intention of dying here. Now tell Bedford to pop back in when he has a moment. Tell Tally I said he’s to stay out.”

Erasmus nodded, drawing back, removing his hand at the last. He looked back once before hurrying off.

If Erasmus did so thinking he’d never see Nathaniel again he was very much mistaken. The work had progressed expediently. Only now did Kaplan appear to be slowing, but as the repairs were almost complete, Nathaniel supposed it was no matter.

He watched, waiting, while Kaplan completed the last of his current instructions. Bedford chose that moment to enter the cavern.

One glance at Kaplan and Bedford was unable to hide his shock and disgust. He instantly rearranged his expression and marched across, but his shoulders were hunched and the look in his eyes gave away his inner pain.

“Not so happy with your decision now, hmm?”

“Steady on, Stone. I said I was capable of ordering men to their deaths. I didn’t say I was happy about it.”

“No. Of course not.” Nathaniel looked back at Kaplan. In truth he was finding it extremely difficult to look away from him. He was as much…mesmerised by the changes in Kaplan as he was in the outcome of these endeavours. Also horrified.

While it was true Kaplan’s skin had taken on the bluish cast of a Drobate, he looked nothing like one of them or even the form Tereshkov had acquired during his time on Luna. He was becoming something other.

Was his skull changing shape? Possibly, but not in quite the exaggerated way of a Drobate, more like the daguerreotype Quintana had shown Nathaniel after returning from Greenore Gulch. A result of over-exposure to jothrick. Perhaps the grand orrery was made from some derivative of that genet? Perhaps, if there had been enough time that change would occur, but they were nearly finished and in any case, Nathaniel was sure he stood watching a man dying.

Should that be me?

The thought came from nowhere and he didn’t have time to indulge it. No-one else could have deciphered the code to obtain the instructions in the time allotted. Working this way, with Kaplan following his orders, had definitely meant for faster progress. Kaplan had slogged away at the task, and only slowed on occasion. Work had gone even faster since he’d removed his mask.

The first time Bedford had come in and seen that… To call his expression a look of horror did not do it justice. Even Nathaniel felt sick, and it was one thing he didn’t want Tally seeing. Of all the changes he could see going on outside of the man, what changes had taken place inside to turn him into this?

Kaplan had a corpse-like appearance, the bluish tone of a Drobate mingling with the stark constriction of his skin over sharp angles of bone.

Nathaniel thought of the dragon. Were Kaplan’s bones calcifying?

The man didn’t seem to be in pain, and Nathaniel couldn’t understand why. No man should look like that without pleading for mercy.

“Is he done?” Bedford was staring at the mechanism, a better view than Kaplan to be certain.

“Almost.” Nathaniel looked back at his translation as Kaplan fitted two more spokes. He ordered Kaplan to fit the final gear.

Both he and Bedford took a step back out of the circle in anticipation of something happening. Nothing did.

6.

MARCUS PUSHED ONE OF the spokes, frowning when it refused to move. This wasn’t…right.

He looked around at the other two men in bewilderment. “Why?”

The tall man gave him such a look Marcus almost flinched back. Who was he? Nate. Another man with them called him Nate. That was an abbreviated form of…of…Nathaniel. Nathaniel Stone. Why had he forgotten that? Why was the professor angry with him? If not anger…what was he seeing in the man’s eyes? Marcus wanted to help him. That’s all he’d been trying to do, to help.

He turned his gaze back to the column of gears and the motionless pieces of wire projecting from the central mechanism.

“Maybe…” Marcus didn’t know what to suggest. He needed to make this right. After all his work this should move. “Maybe it won’t…” Won’t… Wouldn’t… What? He couldn’t remember. He’d been moving the…the…the wires. Yes, the wires, but some of the spokes had disintegrated, were missing. The spokes and the balls that represented the planets. “Maybe it needs all the parts.”

“What’s he talking about?” the other man demanded.

Bed…something. Marcus shook his head, but couldn’t complete the name. He became lost in the puzzle of the man’s unknown identity. He stared at the tall man who was speaking. The tall man called Stone.

“Some of the more delicate pieces are missing, but it should still spin. The central gears are fine and they should move.” Stone’s gaze swept the cavern, before looking back at the papers in his hands. “Maybe I’m missing something, some way to turn it on.”

“We’re out of time, Stone.”

Time?

Thoughts followed, disjointed, overlapping. Marcus fought to remember. If it just weren’t so hot in here. If he could just breathe without having to wear…

Marcus paused in running a hand over his face. His mask was missing. He’d removed it. He was on Jupiter without his breathing apparatus yet still alive. That was impossible. “S-Stone?” He looked over at the professor, trying to tamp down his rising panic. “W-What’s h-happening to m-me?”

The two men stopped their conversation and looked at him. It was the taller man… Marcus struggled to remember his name although he’d known it a moment ago. The taller man… Nate was the one to walk towards him.

“Doctor Kaplan… Marcus. I need you to look for something, a switch, a cog, something out of alignment that will make this operate.”

The man’s words made sense and yet…did not.

“The spokes, Kaplan. They need to move.”

He could do that. Reaching up, Marcus gave one a push. It moved a short way then came to a stop as it caught up with the other gears.

“No,” Nate said. “That’s not what I…”

Marcus had already pushed another. The gears clicked together, engaged.

“Yes!” Nathaniel said. “Keep going. Push all that you can.”

Marcus didn’t need telling. This was a simple enough task. He began pushing at the wires and as he moved them, the cogs clicked into place. Slowly, they began moving.

As they did, they began to vibrate and squeal. Such noise.

Marcus stopped to put his hands over his ears, aware the two men were shouting at him. One thing came through. He had to continue. Tears starting to stream down his face, Marcus reached for the next spoke and pushed.

7.

THE SOUND WAS SO GREAT Bedford expected something spectacular to happen. There was nothing magical about the screeching, grinding gears, or the machinery beginning to spin and shake in the spinning, particles flaking off and falling in a shower of corrosion. The machine worked for almost a full cycle then stopped. The sudden silence was almost as deafening as the racket it had produced.

It sat dead, as good as a rusty heap.

Nothing could come of this. Kaplan had risked his life for nothing.

A great tick of a sound filled the cavern. The orrery began to pivot. Kaplan had the sense to step back but one of the spokes still caught him and sent him flying to the edge of the circle. Bedford rushed over to him, winching when he reached down to help the man to his feet and felt the thin structure of his skeleton. Beneath his touch, Kaplan flinched. Had he hurt him with a simple grab to his shoulder?

Taking greater care, he put his hands under Kaplan’s arms and helped him to stand. Kaplan leaned into him as if he was too weak, and Bedford’s first instinct was to push the man away. Thoughts of Annabelle passed through his mind, the emotions of shame and frustration following. Annabelle would be the first to help a man in distress, even at the risk of infection. Bedford took hold of Kaplan, again. Together they turned to watch the orrery revolve.

It ground and clanked its way through two more turns. As it did, the central spindle began to split. Something was emerging but the cavern was shaking so much, they faced a real threat of being pitched to the ground. Small rocks began to separate from the roof and rain down. Bedford put an arm under one of Kaplan’s shoulders, flung one of the man’s arms about his neck. Kaplan seemed to have the sense of what he was about because he turned, fighting to propel himself towards the entrance. Once there, Bedford turned back, shouting for Stone.

The professor waved to him but he stood watching the orrery. So too, did Bedford. They were so close to…he knew not what, but time was running out and the area was growing dangerous. Kaplan cried out as Bedford stumbled into the wall, although Bedford took most of the brunt of the collision in order to protect him. He opened his mouth to shout another warning to Stone and realised the orrery had stopped turning. The middle had opened and something had appeared in the midst of the column. Even as he watched the cavern filled with a rainbow of multi-coloured lights. Projected right there in the cavern was a view of the Solar System such as he’d never seen before.

Bedford stood stunned by the view, aware he was looking at something in miniature that so few would even comprehend. He wanted to stand there for hours just looking at it, picking out the planets that he knew of, making new discoveries.

There was no time…and the cavern still shook.

The realisation had only just sunk in when part of the side wall caved in. A long claw appeared in the gap left behind and then withdrew. Bedford didn’t question what he was seeing.

“Stone!”

“I know!”

Nathaniel made a grab for something in the midst of the column. The magical light display vanished. Whatever Nathaniel had grabbed he brought with him, stuffing it into his pack with his papers, flinging that across his body and grabbing for Kaplan’s breathing apparatus in passing. Behind him, the wall continued to rupture. Bedford didn’t wait to catch his first sight of a dragon. He turned and dragged Kaplan along at his side.

8.

HALFWAY THROUGH THE TUNNEL Nathaniel made Bedford stop while he put the breathing mask back on Kaplan. The researcher tried to struggle, and Nathaniel didn’t even know if it was necessary or it would cause the man more harm, but he wasn’t going to spare the time to argue. He forced the mask onto Kaplan who gave up fighting after another abortive attempt. Then he pushed Bedford ahead.

One glance back revealed the tunnel collapsing. Maybe that was a good thing—would act as a barrier between them and the dragon—but only if they stayed ahead of the collapse. As soon as the tunnel was wide enough, he took Kaplan’s other arm, and he and Bedford as good as carried the man between them. No mean achievement—the position meant Nathaniel had to bend awkwardly owing to his height.

“Was that?” Bedford asked puffing.

“Yes.”

“An actual…”

“Yes.”

“A dragon?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think drew it?”

“The orrery working or the sound. For all I know maybe the dragons are supposed to protect this thing.”

Bedford gave him a frightened look. “If that’s true…”

Nathaniel nodded. He too was thinking of Sovereign and their chances of escape.

“Can’t believe I’ve been that close to a dragon.”

“Trust me. That’s as close as you ever want to be.” They reached the entrance to find Tally and Stevenson. “I can’t believe you stayed,” Nathaniel snapped.

“Scolding me, eh? Yer gobshite. Where’d yer think I’d be?” Tally’s gaze slid sideways. The smile slithered off his face as he took in Kaplan’s appearance. Stevenson moved in to take over Nathaniel’s task of half carrying the man when Tally pushed him aside. “Give him here. Hang on ta me, Marcus.” Tally’s resolute tone wavered. “What the feck ’ave yer done to yerself?” He sounded half choked.

When he bent, Nathaniel expected Tally to throw the man over his shoulder, but instead he lifted him gently. Even so, Kaplan groaned. No matter how gentle Tally was, Kaplan was going to find the journey back uncomfortable. Tally turned with the man in his arms. “Light as a feather,” he said, imparting the news that he could carry him and that he didn’t like Kaplan’s chances all in that one sentence. A second passed in which Tally just stared at him. “Let’s be out of here.”

There wasn’t much left for them to carry and they abandoned everything not strictly necessary. They had a long trip to the surface and were going to have to do most of it at a run.

An hour later, they stopped to catch their breath although that meant gasping in the metallic tasting air and using up precious reserves.

Nathaniel was about to push Bedford into moving, but he followed the commander’s gaze and knew they’d stopped mostly to give Kaplan a break. Tally had carried him in his arms for as long as he could but had eventually had to carry him like a sack of spuds. Being jiggled on Tally’s shoulder was no fun for the man; might be doing any and all kinds of damage to his skeletal structure or even his organs.

“Bedford, are you sure…?” Nathaniel spoke quietly, hoping Tally didn’t hear. He didn’t want to say it, but had to. “Should we take him back?”

Bedford looked at him and he anticipated an objection, even anger, but Bedford understood. “Do you think he’s contagious?”

Nathaniel considered. “No. I believe having actual contact with the machinery has caused this; otherwise the same thing should have happened to me. But I cannot say for certain.” He didn’t add that Kaplan was slowing them down. He didn’t have to state the obvious to Bedford, and at heart he didn’t want to leave Kaplan on Jupiter. He wouldn’t have chosen to do such a thing to any man, and the memory of being lost here was too sharp. If Kaplan was dying, let him do it on the ship, but all options had to be considered. “I’m more worried about our air supply and whether the cutter or even Sovereign is waiting.”

As to that all they could do was hope.

9.

THEOBALD STARED OUT OF the viewing port. He had no idea what had got the dragon beasts so riled up but they were definitely moving closer. The only thing that seemed to currently offer any level of protection was the area in which Sovereign hovered.

“Seems like Fontaine was right. They don’t like this quieter zone. Keep us from drifting, Barry.”

“Aye, sir.”

While Theobald was worried about the ship, he was more concerned about the cutter. Owing to the dragons drawing nearer, it had returned to the ship once, but only to bring about a third of the team back to the ship, and then because the crewman who had dislocated his arm was complaining of additional pain, which meant he required medical treatment after all.

He ruminated over the message that Bedford was extending the mission for a very important reason. He’d “requested” an additional six hours. Seeing as by the time Theobald gave the order, relayed it back to the cutter, and someone took the message far enough into Jupiter to inform Bedford, Theobald’s acceptance or rejection was moot.

As the time approached he’d sent the cutter back into position. A while ago more of the team had returned, but apparently five remained inside Jupiter’s core.

Theobald set his jaw in a hard line. Assignments by their very nature could run over time, but Bedford had better have a damn good reason. He didn’t like the way these creatures were growing bolder; tried to think of a cause. Was it something to do with whatever it was Bedford had found below?

“Sir? The area around the cutter is becoming quite crowded, sir.”

Theobald snapped to, peering out. The sky indeed appeared to be full of flying reptiles.

“Bees protecting the hive,” he murmured. He was growing ever certain that his supposition was right and that something in the core of the planet had disturbed them. Whatever Bedford was up to suddenly had his attention. “Keep watch, gentlemen. If need be we’ll move in to try to protect the cutter. Order them to remain unless they are in immediate danger. And alert the gun crew we may be in for some action.” He straightened his back, clasping his hands at the base of his spine. “I really don’t want to fight these beasties unless we have to.” Under his breath, he added, “And pray the others emerge soon.”

They had passed Bedford’s deadline ten minutes ago, but Theobald would wait as long as they were able.

Come on, Bedford. Where are you?

Chapter Ten

1.

BEDFORD WOULD HAVE REACHED for his gun but Stone’s hand fell on his. Without thought Bedford jerked back. Foolish of him—especially considering they were both suited up—though most men would have considered it an understandable reaction. Stone gave him a questioning look, and then his gaze narrowed. His head tilted a little and Bedford could see thoughts and speculation speeding through the other man’s mind. Had Stone worked out that Bedford knew his secret? To hell with him if he had. Now was not the time for this. Stone shook his head; Bedford couldn’t tell whether the gesture was one of reproach or simply backing up what he’d clearly meant to convey by that touch.

Stone had stopped Bedford from drawing his gun and using it. Although Bedford doubted a blast so small would ignite Jupiter’s atmosphere, it already being so turbulent, the gesture was pointless. No way could one small gun be a defence against one of these creatures. They paused in the entrance, the depths of Jupiter behind them, the vastness of its upper atmosphere ahead. Above, several draco flew back and forth.

If only they could have made it out faster. They’d had to waste a certain amount of time to get back into their atmosphere suits, the contraptions making the last part of the journey cumbersome. At least they’d all had cleaner air, but dragging Kaplan along in the more bulky suit proved difficult. Tally had no longer been able to manage him alone.

Bedford had feared the delay was one too many, but he could make out the outline of the cutter without trouble, and above in the swirling vapours he was sure he could spy the outline of Her Majesty’s vessel, although the cloud could be confusing his perception. Whether he saw the ship or a phantom, with the evidence of the cutter ahead, he was sure Sovereign not only awaited them but would be ready to offer whatever protection she could.

Tally and Stevenson came up from the rear carrying Kaplan between them. To bolster the two exhausted men and even to give Kaplan hope if he could hear, Bedford raised his hand in a universal gesture that all was good.

No sooner had he done so than Stone’s hand fell on his again. He turned his gaze to stare out of the entrance in time to see the cutter taking off.

Bedford shot out of the cave as if someone had propelled him as a bullet from his own gun. He ran, waving his arms, not wasting a breath shouting when he wouldn’t be heard.

He came to a stop when he realised why the cutter had swerved. One of the draco cut across its path, missing where it stood by just a few feet. The beast at once circled back in an erratic flight pattern before rising more smoothly. Bedford glanced around and noticed the creatures seemed to be gathering but were keeping their distance…for now.

For how long? The way they were moving in, he expected a concentrated attack any moment.

Bedford wasn’t waiting to find out. He watched the flight of the cutter, realised where they were heading and pushed Stone that way as the others caught up. The ship backed out of the shifting platforms, before dropping down between two layers, and then easing through a narrower passage. The cutter’s approach pattern was risky and they needed to be there waiting if it succeeded.

2.

THE TORPEDOLIKE SHAPE HAD never looked so beautiful. Tally dragged himself into the airlock first, only so he could turn and help others in behind him. As soon as the lock closed, the ship moved, but it had hardly turned when it took a hit. No-one had to explain what had happened. Tally had seen how close the drifting plateaus of land were to the ship. The pilot had to be skilled or mad.

For a few seconds the turbulence was so bad he expected part of the ship to tear away, but then it was moving free and rising. All they had to do was make it back to Sovereign without one of those flying lizards catching them.

Would all of them make it?

As soon as Bedford gave the all clear, Tally pulled off his atmosphere suit and, with help from the others, removed Kaplan’s helmet.

Ye Gods, but this was not how a man should die. Tally’s dismay upon hearing that Nate wanted him to stay away had been extreme. The order had made him want to dash on in there, but the sickening dread of what he would see coupled with Bedford reminding him that distractions only served to slow down the work had kept him out. If he had seen Kaplan turning into this, he would have dragged both men out, and Nate likely knew that.

Feckin’ hell. A man shouldn’t come this close to crying so often in the space of a couple of days. First the belief he’d lost Nate, and now for this to happen to Kaplan… Tally looked at Nathaniel who noticed and returned the stare. Tally had much to say but now wasn’t the time and he wasn’t sure he could be as eloquent as he wanted to be. Later… Then Tally would tell Nate what he was thinking.

“Best leave him as he is.”

Tally saw the sense in Bedford’s words. The suit did at least offer Kaplan’s poor abused body some protection. Kaplan was so still he seemed to have slipped into a coma, but he was breathing.

So far in the journey Doctor Beverly had reported minor ailments and injuries only. Now he had an actual casualty on his hands. One he couldn’t have envisioned in his wildest dreams. Tally stared at Kaplan’s blue-white emaciated face and hoped the good doctor could perform miracles. For once, he wasn’t sure whether it wouldn’t have been kinder to let the poor bugger die.

3.

“THE CUTTER IS SAFELY back, Captain.”

“Good. Now get us out of here.”

No sooner did the ship move than the race was on. The moment Sovereign turned the dragons gathered. The second she rose out of the quiet zone, the beasts took formation, bearing down as though they were a great flock of birds.

“Let’s avoid them, gentlemen.”

The calculations for their best path to break through Jupiter’s atmosphere and break the great planet’s pull had already been determined, but first they had to rise, rise, rise through many miles of vaporous gases, avoiding high winds, storms, and these great winged beasts.

For several minutes the ship and crew took part in a quiet race. Then Sovereign shook, slewing to the side. Theobald turned his head and even from his viewpoint saw a claw had snagged and pulled on the ship. The creature had to have come from beneath, but fortunately, from its size, it was likely adolescent

“Aim. Fire.” Theobald gave the command in a calm monotone.

Their weapons fired and the creature peeled off, spiralling downwards. Theobald gave no more than a split-second thought to whether it was dead or injured. His only priority was that of the ship.

“Let’s not let that happen again,” Theobald commanded, and for the next few minutes no-one did.

Avoiding the creature ahead, rising on great wings that unfurled like a ship at sea raising its sails, proved more difficult. Theobald opened his mouth, a dozen commands speeding through his mind, each analysed with the training that had provided him with this command. Before he could select the most appropriate they were saved by happenstance. A red flash drew his gaze to one side. A great roiling blaze stroked fire over the side of the ship. The ship came away unscathed—she had been built to survive worse—but another flame followed, and something on Jupiter ignited, creating a flash fire that shook the ship. Even as Theobald commanded the ship to peel away, so too did the threat of the dragon ahead.

They struggled to get back on course; Sovereign swung in a brutality unforgiving wind. Men pressed buttons and pulled at levers, working to get the ship under control. The ship dipped, dropping several feet in the direction none on board wanted to go. One glance revealed a maelstrom of turbulent gases below and rising out of the midst what appeared to be a mountain of grey craggy rock. Theobald needed to blink before what he was seeing defined into a spiralling pattern of flying creatures coming up to drag them down from beneath.

4.

“NO, NO. HMM…” MARCUS couldn’t breathe. He tried to twist, to push off whatever lay on top of him, but he couldn’t do that either. His body had become a slug wrapped inside a chrysalis, cocooned.

“Wollf return to your seat until…”

“I’m fine, Commander.”

The second voice was lighter than the first and Marcus sensed he should have understood why. He should also have understood the words. Seat? He was lying down, and his name wasn’t Wolf. Who was Wolf? Was there a wolf?

Not a wolf. Something worse.

Marcus began to thrash against whatever restrained him. Some kind of padded suit, straps, hands. Soft hands; a cool touch.

He was at once aware of movement around him, others joining the first person, of their being jostled about as the world lurched.

“Hold him down.”

“Without hurting him? How?”

“Use this.”

Another constriction went across his chest. They were tying him down!

Noooooooooooo! Marcus wanted to weep and wail. He had to fly free. With the thought, he was.

He saw…

Swelling mist and bilious pink clouds with flashes of fire in their depths. The wind lifted him, though at times the currents fought to spin him around and he had to correct his course, but he had learned how to do this. He’d taken spills when he was young, but not now. Now he was fully grown and strong, one of the largest of his kind. His own kin moved out of his path.

Filled with this great power, Marcus grew calm. If he could become…this, the sacrifice would not be so great. He had these thoughts without truly understanding them; aware that this…promise would be unfulfilled, clinging to hope nonetheless. He wanted this. If he had to change, he wanted to be this. The animal was powerful, but it didn’t like him in its mind, though it thought of him as nothing more than a flea, an irritating itch. The creature flew in pursuit of prey. More than that—in pursuit of a prize.

He breathed in the noxious fumes of Jupiter, but even though it stung on the way down to his lungs, he could feel it filling him. The gases went into pockets and capillaries, into organs no other creature had, and his body took it in, transformed it. In the pit of his stomach a fire ignited and he welcomed the burn.

Jupiter fuelled the weapon the creature had been borne with.

Marcus shook his head and moaned. That soft hand touched his brow. A voice told him to lie still. Marcus saw a glowing thing, an egg of some kind… Domed anyway.

He didn’t know why but he’d been borne with an imperative to protect it at all times.

With a toss of its great scaly head, the creature tossed him out of its thoughts. Marcus gave a cry.

“Can’t you get this door open? Is the doctor here?”

“Try to keep still, Marcus. We’ll have ’elp here fer yer soon.”

Marcus failed to understand. He was floating free.

“At last.”

What was last? Marcus knew some of the people were moving away from him and he wanted to shout out. Don’t leave me…here. There was nothing here, not now. He had to leave, return to…Sovereign.

The ship heard him. That made no sense but he cared not why. He was hurtling through gaseous clouds carried by the winds and yet apart from them. He saw Sovereign as if his mind was a disembodied thing and then he was plunging down, into her, flying through corridors, passing pipes, hearing the hum of wires, and the distracted thoughts of men. A few turned their heads in passing as if they’d noticed him. Others ran to urgent tasks. The ship…

Sovereign was in pain, but this was a hurt she could survive if she could fly fast enough. This knowledge gave her power.

Another blast of what had to be dragon fire shook the ship, but a greater concern took over: escape. Entering the upper reaches of Jupiter’s atmosphere, the hull began to screech as Marcus, or his mind, or maybe his imagination, reached the bridge. One mind there was sharpest, reacting at least seconds ahead of the rest. This one gave orders. Commands piped from the bridge had men from engineering rushing to obey. Gunners were already in place. What sounded like a muffled explosion reached Theobald’s hearing but he had no time to pay it much mind. The bosun had already called for reports around the ship and swiftly received confirmation there were no hull breaches, although small fires had broken out and the crew were rushing to contain them now. If he concentrated, Marcus could see these events as if he were part of the mind of the captain, every man on board, and of the ship itself. Reports from the engine room contained screaming as one man had been burned, but for the captain of Sovereign that was part of a day’s job. Trying to break Jupiter’s pull now caused the juddering that could be felt throughout the ship.

“We’re reached the right trajectory, Captain.”

Theobald gave the man who had spoken a nod. All that was left for them to do was get out of here.

“We’re not alone, Captain, sir.”

Indeed, they were not. Marcus knew what gave chase, for he had been in its mind. The largest of the dragons followed in their wake. Some miles existed between them and the creature but the beast gained with every passing minute, and it had the advantage of manoeuvrability. With its wings tucked back, the draco slithered through the atmosphere as a seal could swim through water.

For the next few minutes, the crew held their nerve and forged ahead, and all the while the dragon gained and gathered speed. Marcus was torn between wanting to be part of the beast and longing to escape with the ship.

His body…

The others had brought back his body to Sovereign, but his mind? His body was damaged. Broken. Marcus wanted to leave it behind; now that his consciousness was a part of the ship, some other perception clung to him, held him fast. If he had thought it would do any good, he would have begged and pleaded, but he sensed a resolve quite unlike any he had ever encountered in the mind of a man.

What was this thing that had held of him?

He could not pull free of it so watched helplessly.

Theobald caught a sideways look from Barry, but had nothing to say in reply. Both men stared resolutely ahead. The creature was too far away to turn their guns towards it and every particle of energy Sovereign had was currently focused in the fight against Jupiter.

As the minutes passed, Theobald began to calculate when to risk firing upon the creature. Too soon and the shot would be pointless. Too late and it would be upon them, but if they fired and happened to ignite a pocket of flammable gas the resulting explosion could knock them off course and they’d miss their chance to break orbit. Even if they survived that, the creature would be upon them and they would have to start this battle all over again.

Don’t do it. Marcus knew it wouldn’t work. He didn’t know how but he just knew.

Theobald shook his head slightly, the only outward sign of his turmoil. I can’t risk it.

Marcus caught the captain’s thought and as much as he could in this disembodied form, he sagged.

Whatever the outcome of this, they were committed.

Five hundred feet until they breached atmosphere sounded like nothing at all but despite the engines straining, Jupiter was a greedy planet, wanted to cling to everything in its vicinity.

Four hundred feet but the creature was only a hundred and fifty feet back.

At three hundred feet, Theobald readied the guns to hold fire until his command. The dragon was no less than a hundred feet on their wake, but the ship was glowing white, screaming in protest and vibrating.

Not yet. Not yet. Soon but not yet. There’s still a chance.

Two hundred and the creature behind them flapped its wings, and opened its mouth. It wasn’t a giant but seemed so at this close range. It wasn’t big enough to swallow them whole, but the slightest nudge might change their course and right now that could spell disaster. Theobald was aware of the men under his command looking at him, but he was judging on something a little more than hunch. All or nothing. Just a few more feet.

Yes. Marcus urged the captain to hold off just a few moments yet. He could feel the creature’s lungs starting to strain, its fire waning.

With less than fifty feet left the dragon peeled back, contorting in the air. That these creatures could breathe the noxious fumes of Jupiter was miraculous; they apparently couldn’t survive the vacuum of the aether, which was what Theobald had counted on.

“Destination, sir?”

Theobald didn’t take his gaze from the view ahead. Sovereign had eased back but they still needed distance between them and Jupiter to escape its pull completely. “Just ahead,” Theobald commanded. “Just maintain as direct a route as possible until we’re away from here.”

Away. Marcus felt awareness slipping from him, struggled to stay. He’d rather be part of the ship than to return to his body, but even as everything turned black he knew this was one fight he could not win.

5.

THOSE IN THE CUTTER had awaited attention while Sovereign fled. As if they hadn’t had enough excitement, they’d had to hold Kaplan down when he’d started thrashing around. That in itself had proven difficult—they feared harming him while trying to stop him hurting his own self. In the end, he seemed to calm most when Wollf and Tally took over his care. Everyone had hated the delay but there had been nothing anyone could do about it. The ship was still juddering in the last moments of its escape, by that time there was crew available to see to their needs. The first thing Nathaniel saw upon stepping out of the cutter was two men carrying a litter. Upon his first sight of him, Doctor Beverly made the obvious connection and presumed Nathaniel needed its use.

“I’m…quite all right.” Nathaniel held up a hand. He looked beyond Beverly to where Arnaud came at run. The other man’s eyes went wide with concern, and he might have pushed through had not Doctor Beverly held Arnaud back.

“Give the men room. Give them air. This area is not secure.” Beverly stared at Nathaniel. “You look quite cut up.”

“On the contrary I am remarkably unharmed, though suffering nonetheless.” Already Nathaniel could feel the bruises and underlying aches developing. He’d managed to ignore those pains on the planet, but now they were settling in. This was the price as his body stopped producing much-needed adrenaline. “The blood is quite dry and as far as I’m aware none of it is mine.” He had the odd scrape, no doubt, and those who had gone below required a full medical; Nathaniel’s needs were no exception, or more important than the others. Indeed, there was another among them who needed help the most. He could see the doctor was going to argue and so said, “Kaplan is the one who needs your attention.”

At the very sight of him, the doctor’s eyes widened. “Get this man to the medical bay now. All of you require an examination now before you can resume your duties.”

As eager as he was to investigate the find he’d fought so hard for, not even Nathaniel was going to argue with that.

He stepped away to find a restraining hand on his arm, Tally on the end of it leaning in. “You scared me down there. Not once, not twice. I don’t know how many feckin’ times.”

The man’s concern was touching but Nathaniel was too exhausted for this. “I know.”

“I don’t care who orders me to stay out next time, Bedford or you, or the captain himself, I’m gonna be checking on ya.”

Nathaniel didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he warranted such concern. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Tally looked as if he would argue, but then young Sophia Davies came running up to Tally.

“You kept your promise.”

That Tally had, but Davies’ forthrightness fuelled by her relief was attracting attention. The Irishman was clearly a little embarrassed.

“I'm fine, Miss. Better not get close and get all dirty.”

Nathaniel was almost too tired to be amused, but as Davies went on her way saying she would check on Tally later, Nathaniel turned to his friend. “You’d better have that talk with Chief Boswell about those honourable intentions of yours.”

“Away with ya.” Tally ran a hand over his face. “Maybe I will though. Maybe over a whiskey. Speaking of which…I could be doing with a drink.”

As much as they could all probably do with one, it was the sick-bay for them all first. Nathaniel would skip the drink for a wash, but as he turned he saw Arnaud still there, and found more than a wash was needed to reassure Arnaud of his good health. Arnaud searched his face while Nathaniel searched his own mind. How best to explain all they had been through down there? Nathaniel could barely put one foot in front of the other but even at a slow pace it wouldn’t take long to reach the medical room. He’d have to make this concise. “Walk with me.”

An hour later, he was lying on his back behind a curtain in the sick-bay aware of hovering somewhere between waking and sleep.

6.

ARNAUD WALKED INTO THE lab. They were leaving Jupiter with another amazing find. Nathaniel had told him he would need his help but for now Arnaud had few of the details. He wished he could have seen the incredible things Nathaniel had given him the briefest description of, but if he had he’d likely be the one taking up permanent residence in the medical room. He didn’t know what to make of that and needed a few moments alone to think.

“Can yer spare a tiny drop ta drink?”

Tally had followed him in. The man was grubby and looked half-dead on his feet, but he clearly needed something stronger than water and he needed it inside him rather than out.

Arnaud opened the door to his secret supply and took out two glasses. He poured both him and Tally a shot. They chinked glasses, and Tally tipped his back. A second later, Arnaud did the same. Tally glanced at him, looked away. Neither man said anything for a long drawn-out span.

“Nearly lost Nate down there.” Tally shook his head. He glanced at the seat where Kaplan usually sat, then glanced at Arnaud. No doubt Tally was remembering the last time they’d shared a drink. They had a man missing, one who might never enjoy a drop of brandy again, although Arnaud would happily hand over the bottle to him if Kaplan could pour it down his throat.

With another shake of his head, Tally put down the glass and wandered out. Arnaud bent to put the bottle back in the cabinet.

Almost lost Nate down there. Tally’s words echoing in his mind had him pouring another shot, swilling it around and swallowing it down. His mind flicked back to his conversation with Nathaniel.

“Did you know this would happen?”

“How could I?”

“You took Kaplan in my place.” Arnaud had stared into Nathaniel’s gaze, started nodding. “You knew. Maybe not this, but you knew something. You saved me, mon toujours.”

Arnaud hadn’t cared in that moment what Nathaniel did or didn’t want him to call him. All he had known was Nathaniel Stone had saved him from suffering Kaplan’s fate.

The guilt of that had Arnaud fumbling at the desk, dragging his sorry self onto a seat before the weight of that responsibility drove him to his knees. His hands were shaking. His heart pounding. Given what he knew now would he take Kaplan’s place? Not if he was sane.

7.

DESPITE HIS DISHEVELLED STATE when Theobald sent for him, Bedford went at as fast a pace as he could without running.

He stood with his back straight, and saluted, saying nothing. Time passed during which Theobald stood with his hands cupped in the small of his back, shoulders squared, staring out as they gained distance from the King of Planets. When he was done, Theobald took his seat. He took in Bedford’s appearance but maintained silence for several long seconds.

“I understand Kaplan’s condition is…” Theobald stopped, shook his head. “Well we both know how terrible his condition is and I’ll get a fuller report later when Doctor Beverly has had a better chance to examine him. I also want to speak to the other researchers as soon as they’ve had a chance to recover sufficiently.”

“Aye, Captain.” Bedford knew the captain would be speaking with all of the landing party, taking their reports individually. Nothing he’d said so far had surprised him.

“Off the record, Commander, I want a brief recap from you right now. When it comes to your turn to do so officially you’d better have a damn good reason for pushing my instructions beyond the limits. Whatever your reasons for disobeying orders if I thought it wouldn’t be detrimental to this mission, you’d be in the brig. Now, report.”

That one word order was enough to tell Bedford what sort of strife he was in but he did as ordered, recapping as quickly as possible what had occurred inside Jupiter.

“You think it was worth it?”

Whether the captain meant the damage to Kaplan or risking his career hardly mattered. The answer was the same. “Aye, sir. If I may be so bold, sir, I believe you would have done the same.” That was pushing the truth. He didn’t believe Theobald would have taken the chance had he seen the rusting hulk of machinery they’d had to work with, because he wouldn’t have been able to believe in possibilities beyond what he was seeing. He wouldn’t have believed in Professor Stone. Despite the change in the nature of their relationship, and whatever the reason for the man’s altered behaviour—Bedford still held some hope that could explain many of his actions—Bedford believed in the man’s intelligence and the possibility there could be something greater at work here.

“What did Stone find down there, Commander?”

“He believes it to be a star map, sir.”

“Invaluable?”

Bedford parted his lips to reply, hesitated, and then decided that right or wrong there was only one answer available to him. “Aye, Captain. I believe it will save us wasting time and guide us directly to wherever we wish to go.”

“Giving us an advantage over the Ruskies.” Theobald nodded. “You will face a reprimand, Bedford, but right now I have more important tasks ahead.”

When he gave his orders, Bedford blinked. “Captain, sir, we could all do with…” He was going to say some food and sleep, but the captain’s gaze silenced his protests.

“As soon as Doctor Beverly has given everyone the all clear I want them working on this great find, Bedford; make no mistake about that.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

When the captain told him he was dismissed, Bedford was thankful to be out of there. As tired as he was, he found he had enough energy to walk away at an extremely fast pace. The question of how to tell the other exhausted men that the captain wanted to see them as soon as they were dismissed from sick-bay threatened to sap what little energy he had left. As for himself and Stone, his orders were to ask Stone what he required to get the star map working, then to assign a team to meet his needs. Until work started he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.

To further insult his injuries, as he walked into the medical room where the excursion team lay, the first sound he heard was of Tally softly snoring.

Epilogue

1.

“OFF TO KISS UP to the Irishman?”

Sophia Davis turned red. She and Jack Fenn were walking down to the docking bay.

“How dare you, Fenn. Tally’s a perfect gentleman. He’s had a word with my uncle, so it’s all above board, and we’re just friends.” She glared at him, taking him a little by surprise with her fury. “You should be thinking as how it’s not such a bad thing, having friends.”

“Be careful there. You’re starting to phrase things a little like Tally.”

Davies opened her mouth, and then closed it again, before saying through tight lips. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. What's wrong, Fenn? You used to be a good man.”

Fenn couldn’t help feeling somewhat amused and a little perplexed. He wasn’t sure how good a man he was—how did a man tell?—but if he’d been good, and now wasn’t, as she implied, what had changed?

“Nothing to concern you. I’m just outta sorts. Just…those in charge and their promises. Not always to be trusted, I tell you that.” He was pondering, though, that in this instance he was glad the prof hadn’t managed to take him off ship. His belligerence had been unwarranted anyway; Fenn knew how the chain of command worked. He’d let his frustration grow out of proportion. Now he owed Stone or the universe a little gratitude.

“Some can be trusted.”

Fenn gave her a calculating look. “That Tally's too old for you.” He’d hoped to make her blush a second time, but was disappointed.

“Not this again.”

“Maybe not for you, but him?”

Confusion marred her face. Then her expression cleared and she shook her head. “No. I disagree with you.”

“Well he's still on the wrong side and likely not to be trusted. No man should make promises he can't keep.”

“He came back.”

“But he might not have been able to.”

“He promised to try and that's exactly what it means.” A strange look came over her face. He could only think she looked mischievous. “Anyone would think you cared. Anyone would think you were jealous.”

Was he? Not wanting to be drawn into that decision or out of his dark mood, Fenn said, “Can’t believe you’re off to this thing.”

“Ah…be a sure good reason to celebrate an’ all,” Davies answered, performing a poor Irish parody. She finally managed to coax a laugh out of him though, before she saw other WRENs, waved, and ran on ahead.

Fenn followed more slowly. Someone had come up with the bright idea of naming the cutters, an event to which the captain had invited anyone not on duty. All this to boost morale. Load of nonsense but Fenn was here because Wolff had named this particular cutter. HMC Fortuna: Daughter of Jupiter apparently, though all it made Fenn think of was fortune, and they certainly had some very good fortune on Jupiter.

As more people crowded in, Fenn got pushed to the side, but he could still see Wolff who looked as bemused by all the fuss as he felt. As Theobald gave a brief speech that was piped throughout the ship, Fenn shuffled his way through for a better view. He’d talked to Davies about not trusting and yet here was one person he did trust. Call it instinct. Call it hormones. Wollf hadn’t ratted on him for not reporting her access to the engine room and he hadn’t ratted on her for entering. Fontaine claimed to not yet understand what they had seen, but Fenn was back to not trusting again, not entirely believing him. That conversation was for another day.

When it became Wollf’s turn to explain why she’d chosen the name, someone joked they should call the cutter Lucky, to which she put a hand in her pocket to pull out a card. She held up the Ace of Spades Fenn had given her.

“I carry my luck right here,” she said to a ripple of laughter, giving Fenn’s heart a jolt.

Maybe he could do with a little of that luck back, but then again, maybe he’d leave that luck just where it was. Everyone knew Kaplan was seriously ill. Fenn couldn’t bear to think of that having happened to this beautiful woman. Whatever existed between them could never amount to love, but Sophia Davies was right. A person needed friends and he’d give Wollf his trust.

2.

Friday 28th February, 1891.

IN THE MEDICAL ROOM, Marcus Kaplan stirred. The bridge between sleep and wakefulness was but a veil so thin he tumbled in the space between. Just on the brink he floated in a place of dark roiling murk, broken only by red pinpricks of pain. Every breath he took set his lungs on fire. Every swallow was like someone putting hands around his throat choking him.

These were the least of his hurts. Of the sensations he could isolate, he seemed to hang over the bed as if he had no weight. His skin felt dry and stretched. Everything felt dry, even his lips, and his fingertips when he was able to make the small movement of rubbing them together. His eyelids when he attempted to open them felt as if they might tear. Marcus couldn’t explain these feelings. He didn’t know what had happened to him, just that something had. He overheard the doctor muttering to someone else.

“Dehydration, respiratory problems too many to mention, the most severe similar to advanced Pulmonary fibrosis, which makes no sense. Heart seems strong enough. Just as well, that is. Muscle wasting. It’s like the moisture has been sucked out of him, it is.”

There were other conditions apparently that the doctor had yet to ascertain. The idea made Marcus laugh. Did it matter when there were so many of them?

Jupiter. He now had another name for the King of Planets: Destroyer of Men.

Was he truly even alive?

As if he conjured the thought, the swirling gloom slowly eased back, dispelled by a growing light. A white light. Did Heaven call to him? Or was this a delusion, or the result of some medicine the ship’s doctor pumped into him? Marcus wasn’t sure he cared but as the light approached he pulled back from it. He wasn’t done here. Whatever he’d become, it was one man’s fault.

Stone.

The professor had somehow known. He’d taken Marcus down with him instead of Fontaine. He’d played God, choosing who would die or who would live, if anyone could call this living.

I’m a walking corpse.

The thought came to him bright and clear even as the light in his mind receded and the shadows gathered.

“Lie still now, Kaplan. You’re in good hands, you are.”

It took Marcus a moment to realise someone had spoken to him; longer to verify the voice as belonging to Doctor Beverly. Marcus was hurting and more important than the pain was the need to tell someone why.

“Ssssssstt…” He couldn’t get the name out. A hand gently held him down.

“Rest, Kaplan. You’ve been asleep quite a while, but it looks as if you’re coming out of it now. You’ve a long road ahead.”

Marcus waited for the reassuring words telling him he would recover but they didn’t follow.

“We’ll be here to help you. We all will.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He had to be fit and well again. Someone had to watch Stone. Someone had to be alert enough to watch him, to stop him from hurting anyone else again. “Sssttttoonne.”

“What did you say?”

Doctor Beverly leaned over and without giving his words thought, Marcus fought to unhinge his jaw. “S-Stone…” He forced the word out. “He… This is hisss fault.”

A second later Marcus won a similar battle to open his eyes, saw Beverly’s face hovering, the man’s gaze twinkling down.

“When you’re better than you are now. Then we’ll talk.”

Better? Marcus had the sinking feeling he’d never be the man he once was again. As if Doctor Beverly read his mind, he shook his head but did nothing to stop him as Marcus struggled and dredged up every bit of energy he had to raise his arms enough to look.

Taking one look at his hands set him screaming.

Doctor Beverly called for help and a sedative, and Marcus tried to lie still, fought to form words, to tell him that he didn’t need it and had been sleeping enough, but he was too weak to fight those holding him, or his longing for oblivion.

As the drug took him over, he succumbed. Fine. He would rest for now. He would bide his time until the day someone would listen to him and he could reveal Stone as the devil he knew him to be.

3.

A FEW SECONDS PASSED before Nathaniel realised the soft murmuring was the sound of voices and that his audience had arrived. He’d been so preoccupied that he’d not noticed the time and either Arnaud had forgotten to remind him, or been as engrossed with the project as he was. At last he’d found something for which Arnaud did not mind using edwinite to power. He did wish Arnaud had alerted him to the time, though.

Even though two weeks had passed since he’d been swallowed by a draco, he’d hoped to have the opportunity to go and wash his hands just once more before the official unveiling of his find, but he accepted that temptation was a dangerous compulsion, a very human reaction but definitely ill-advised. Having had to hack his way out from inside one of the creatures, he just couldn’t shake the feeling he’d never be clean again.

Whatever he’d anticipated on his return to the ship it hadn’t been having all his needs met. Bedford at the command of the captain had wasted no time asking him what he required. The first item on his list had been a room—one large enough to contain the display and empty of everything so that he could construct a power source with a pedestal to power it. Bedford had commandeered the chart room; it was of sufficient size and close enough to the bridge so that whoever was at the helm would have ready access should the need arise.

“Are you prepared for us, Stone?” Theobald snapped out but in no mood to be hurried, Nathaniel ignored him for a couple of beats while he finished with final adjustments.

From within the central column of the re-christened uranography room, the edwinite stone that would power the Aether Cartography Projection shone out, reflecting on his hands and face. Nathaniel closed the small hatch on the power source and then rose to his feet.

“Momentarily, Captain,” he said with a subtle mocking tone.

He beckoned Arnaud over and only then did Arnaud turn to remove the dome from its protective packaging. He carried it in two hands over to the column and together they positioned it into place. The most difficult part of this task had been duplicating the housing where the item had sat, for it needed to click into place much like the tumblers of a lock. The large mechanism on Jupiter had not been what powered the system, only the key—Nathaniel was sure of that. Like a great music box, once it had been wound, it had sent the power through the projection so they could view the stars. With edwinite at his disposal, Nathaniel didn’t have to rely on something so crude, but it had required half a dozen attempts to refine the housing to get the dome to click into place.

Still, the fit was tight. He worked with Arnaud to coax the fittings into alignment, too aware of their fingers brushing as they did. He was also aware of Arnaud’s stare as they felt it give and attach. Still both men stood there a moment, Nathaniel savouring the achievement, Arnaud perhaps taking pleasure in what they could accomplish together as well as an uncommon moment of closeness. Nathaniel was feeling exultant enough to give Arnaud a smile before he stepped back. Apparently taken by surprise, Arnaud blinked at him before smiling back, his hesitation causing his fingers to hover on the pedestal for a few seconds longer. From both sides the two men looked at the new device, until one of their audience cleared his throat.

“You may have the honours, Miss Wollf.” Nathaniel cared not who switched on the power but with her interest in meteorology, he was sure Wollf would appreciate the gesture.

If she felt any surprise, her smooth expression never revealed it. Stepping over to the instrument panel, she flicked a switch, first turning off the light in the room, and then another turning the power to the column on. A soft hum filled the room and then Nathaniel could have sworn he felt the moment when the power surged through the edwinite into the crystal dome.

Light spilled out, throwing a vision of planets and stars across the ceiling and walls they had painted black to reflect the projection. Nathaniel had used the draco eye as a focussing lens to push the image outwards and this was the result. This wasn’t the first time Nathaniel, Arnaud, and Wollf had seen this, but they had refined and adjusted the instruments until they were sure they could unveil it today. No more shaky planets. The images were crisp and clear. For those in the darkened room it was like being transported out into the aether itself. A couple of people gasped. Someone muttered under his breath something Nathaniel could not catch and did not care to. The sight was just like he had witnessed down in the depths of Jupiter but where he hadn’t had the time to truly take in the details before, this time his gaze followed the path he was searching for. It took him a few minutes to orientate himself, so numerous where the Solar Systems and the planets contained within each, but really it was just a case of adjusting to all the information his mind was taking in. For there, right in the middle of the room was Planet X.

As if drawn to it, a few in the room approached. They were looking at a silvery-white planet, with areas of what could be land, patches of green and beige and others of vibrant orange-red.

“What do we know about it?” Theobald asked.

Wollf stepped forward. “From what I’ve been able to deduce we’re looking at planet with a radius at least double that of Earth’s. I believe it has a high density with a largely rocky terrain. More than that will require more study, although now that we have this working I may be able to tell you more in time.”

“You’ve told me more than I expected at this stage. Well done all.”

Theobald began to congratulate the team while Nathaniel stood aside. He didn’t want a handshake. He had what he had come for. A map to his fate.

His destination.

The ever-mysterious Planet X—Plypolyplon.

The End

Next: Blinded by Giants

Acknowledgements

To Andy for always trying to boost my confidence, even if I don’t always believe him—HA! To Kathryn and Paul Moore for always “being there”. To Steven Marwick for becoming a good friend in what felt like a blink more time ago than I care to remember. Yes, I’ve dropped some names into this story to mark these friendships. To Chantal, for her continued “Shenanigans”. Special thanks to Kevin for being there through the proverbial “thick and thin”, for loving my imagination as part of the whole that is me. This one is for these people and all those who, without question, have offered us their support recently. Here’s to the true friendships. You know who you are.

Sharon Bidwell,

London, UK, September 2014