Nearing Venus
Annabelle Somerset tried to hold back her yawn. She was unsuccessful. The gentleman with the magic lantern presentation droned on and on.
“The indigenous creatures of the planet Venus are all reptilian,” he was saying for the fifth time in as many minutes. “No mammalian, warm-blooded creatures ever developed on this hot, extremely wet planet with its dense and constant cloud cover. The luxurious plant life presents a problem to colonists from Earth in that its growth is quite constant and nearly exponential. This is one reason why Her Majesty’s colonies are all on an immense plateau. The vertiginous drop-off to the lower jungles…”
Annabelle’s attention wandered. She glanced about the main drawing room of the RMF Aphrodite, its elegance undimmed by the lack of light and the clouds of smoke rising from the lantern projector.
Two more days until they reached orbit around Venus. Two more days of Nathanial ignoring her as he poured over the mass of books he’d brought with him, sitting in the ship’s library and scribbling on endless sheets in his notebook, in that crabbed and indecipherable code of his, which she had still, irritatingly, not managed to break. Two more days of heavy meals, which she had to walk off on the promenade deck. Two more days.
Would they never end?
“The intelligent lizard-men of Venus live in small villages consisting of several inter-related tribes. These tribes regularly war against each other for the best hunting grounds…”
A hand touched Annabelle’s arm. She ignored it as best she could, but the owner of the hand was unable to take a hint. Indeed, she was fairly sure he would be unable to take a slap on the face as a deterrent to conversation.
Mr George Carstairs leaned closer. “Care for some air, Miss Somerset?” he whispered, and she could smell the wine he’d had with dinner on his breath. He gave her a smile, which displayed a bit of that same dinner still residing between his overlarge front teeth. Spinach, she was quite sure.
Annabelle cast her eyes skyward—or, in this case, ceilingward. Mr Carstairs had been a bit of a problem the entire trip, showering her with unwanted attention, following her about the ship like a lost puppy. He was no George Bedford, that much was certain. But anything was better than being bored to death, surely?
“I would indeed,” she said in a low but decisive tone.
Carstairs shoved his chair back with such eagerness, it toppled over behind him.
“Sorry,” he murmured to no one in particular.
Annabelle was sure he hadn’t offended anyone; she suspected the rest of the observers were asleep anyway. Several snores had punctuated the exhibition already. She rose and followed him to the back of the grand drawing room.
Outside, on the promenade deck, George Carstairs offered her his arm. Annabelle took it and tried to hide her distaste as he patted her hand with his own plump, sweaty one.
“Dashed hot, ain’t it, Miss Somerset?” he asked as he smiled at her. “I mean to say, it’s rather hot, isn’t it?”
“We are quite close to the sun, sir,” Annabelle pointed out, rather more sharply than she’d intended. “A bit of heat must be expected. I confess, it is a relief to me. I spent some time on Luna recently, where it was exceedingly cold. I spent my childhood years in the American deserts and so I much prefer warmth to cold.”
“Luna, indeed?” he said as he tried desperately to keep up with her athletic stride. “Must have been jolly interesting, what? And the Americas! How fascinating.”
“Yes.” Annabelle didn’t want to encourage the young man. She was only planning on walking as far as the door to the reading room, after all, so she could tear Nathanial away from his books for a walk before bed. “It was.”
“And now,” he panted as he struggled to pace her, “it’s off to Venus?”
“Well, that is the next port of call, I believe?”
“Ah, yes. Quite.”
Annabelle led the young gentleman along the promenade deck at a steady pace. After all, if he were out of breath, he wouldn’t be able to pester her with questions or continuous inane remarks. And she did not doubt that he would be out of breath quite soon. Walking on the deck of a space liner used quite a bit of energy and strength. Since they were in space, there was no gravity to hold them still, so they had to wear the heavy space boots with magnets in the soles, to keep them secure on the metal decking. In addition, Annabelle had smaller ones sewn into the hem of her skirts and petticoats, to keep them from flying about indecorously. The constant clanking and pulling had come near to driving her to distraction at the beginning of the trip, but now, after nearly a month onboard, she was used to the sound. Well, nearly.
While ship’s time labelled it evening, very near the end of the second dog watch, the Aphrodite was so near the sun that darkness had been left far behind them, and they strolled and clanked through blazing sunlight only partially blocked by the ship’s massive screens.
They reached the end of the promenade deck and began the trip across to the starboard side. Generally, by now, Carstairs would have given up and gone in search of something cool to drink, but this time he stuck manfully by Annabelle’s side.
She took pity on him. “And what is your reason for visiting Venus, if I may be so bold?”
“Doing the old grand tour, don’t you know, before I settle down. The pater thought it best for me to see a bit of the system. A few weeks on Venus, then it’s off to Mars for a month or so, and perhaps a short run out to view some of the mining concerns in the Belt before I get back to old Blighty. I say, Miss Somerset, can we stop for a moment?”
“No, sir, we cannot,” Annabelle said. “I must fetch my friend from the reading room, and then we shall take a brisk walk around the decks before bedtime. If you wish to retire, sir, I am quite sure I can proceed on my own.”
“Oh…no, indeed.” Mr Carstairs’ face had turned an alarming shade of red. It might have been a reflection from the refracting screens that protectively encircled the Aphrodite, but Annabelle rather thought not. “Mustn’t leave a lady all alone; wouldn’t be fitting.”
“Sir, what possible danger could there be for me here?” Annabelle waved her hand to encompass the entire massive bulk of the huge aether ship. “This is one of Her Majesty’s finest passenger ships travelling the triangle trade: Earth to Venus to Mars. Mars to Earth to Venus. Indeed, the orbits of the three planets make it quite literally an enormous triangular journey, at least during certain times.”
“I say, you sound just like one of my professors at Cambridge.” Mr Carstairs looked at her like a plump yet admiring dog. All it wanted to complete the comparison was a tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, and Carstairs was very near that state. “I confess, I’ve never been able to get my mind around all this travelling through the aether. I’m more of a man of action, don’t you know.” He tried to flex the muscles in the arm Annabelle held but, since there were few there, failed.
“Thank you kindly, sir,” Annabelle said. “That is quite a compliment. My uncle, Doctor Cyrus Grant, has always told me a woman’s mind is as good as a man’s, any day. You have confirmed him,” she looked at her companion, one eyebrow raised, “in more ways than you can know.” She stopped so suddenly Carstairs nearly tripped. “Now, here is the door to the reading room, where I have something very important which I must do. Good night, Mr Carstairs. Thank you for your…protection.”
Annabelle nodded as the gentleman hurriedly opened the door, then deserted him as she sailed inside.
The reading room was empty, or so she thought at first. Then she caught sight of a pile of books and papers tucked into a net covering, with others hanging in a string bag attached to the edge of Nathanial’s usual table in the far corner.
“Nathanial,” she said as she made her circuitous way through the clutter of tables, chairs and reading lamps, “it is time for our walk. Do put those books away and come along.”
Nathanial Stone looked up, his ginger hair disarranged from his habit of running his right hand through it when he was writing, his eyes blinking, his gaze distracted.
Really, thought Annabelle, it’s almost as if he can’t see me at all.
It bothered her, and she wondered why.
Then Nathanial’s expression cleared. “Why, good day, Annabelle,” he said. “Walk? Certainly. I am sure it is time for one.” He stood and stretched. She could hear his joints pop in protest.
Annabelle shook her head at him. “Nathanial, it’s not good day, it’s good evening. Have you eaten at all today?” She saw a plate with crusts and crumbs, half hidden under an open book. “Ah, I see. You’ve had the steward bring you sandwiches again. Really, you must take better care of yourself.”
Nathanial looked at the plate as if he had no idea where it had come from or, indeed, what it might be. “Yes, I believe I did have some sandwiches for luncheon. They were not very filling, though, for I am still hungry.”
“Well, since luncheon was at least eight hours ago, I’m not surprised.” Annabelle brushed crumbs from her friend’s waistcoat and was rewarded by a blush that contrasted badly with his ginger hair and whiskers. “Now, come along. I’ll ask the steward to make you an omelette and we’ll have a glass of wine. We reach Venus in two days and you’ve hardly done anything the entire trip but read your enormous books.”
“You, I am sure, have spent your time learning all about our destination?” Nathanial took her arm and allowed her to lead him out of the reading room. “I shall depend on you to tell me all about it when we arrive, though I doubt if I will have time to see much of the place. Now, you know, I believe you are quite correct. I do seem to be more than a bit peckish. Did you say something about an omelette?”
Annabelle looked up at him and smiled. “Really, you are the most adorable man,” she said, and laughed when he turned a blazing red. “I shall have the steward stuff as many mushrooms as he can into your eggs, and we shall share a peach afterwards. I know how you dote upon peaches.”