Chapter Four

“In Which Great Men Struggle Against Adversity”

1.

“SO THAT IS the notorious Joseph Highmore?” Annabelle said, interrupting Nathaniel’s reading, though how he could read with the noise of the engine as a backdrop was beyond her.

“I never said he was notorious. I said…”

What had he said? Some nonsense based on rumours, as she recalled. Now he broke off, before adding, “In the face of the man’s obvious pain, it simply does not matter.”

“He certainly seems overly concerned with the fate of his…friend.” Annabelle began to pick up books, looking at their contents before closing to put back quite out of order.

“There are many reasons people form lasting attachments.”

He refused to look at her so Annabelle placed a hand on the back of his wrist and squeezed. “To be fair,” Nathaniel continued, as if she hadn’t touched him, and Annabelle withdrew, confused, “I have nothing against Highmore personally, and I was not entirely wrong. The man does gamble.”

“If we were to ostracise every man who gambled we would soon run out of amusing conversation.”

“You know I do not refer just to g-gambling.” Did he expect her to fill in what he wasn’t saying? “Ignore me. I have become a hypocrite.”

Seeing Nathaniel at once more in danger of hiding among the pages of the books, Annabelle reached out to brush her fingers lightly against one side of his face, making him draw back. Finally gaining a reaction absurdly pleased her. No doubt he found the caress improper, but since when had she ever cared about all things appropriate, and in some circumstances, certain priorities seemed trivial. Annabelle was quite aware she had no concerns regarding unwanted behaviour from Nathaniel; it should hardly surprise him she would flout established protocol.

“If what he chooses to do in his personal life is all that concerns you…”

“It is not.” Having rudely interrupted her, Nathaniel quickly added: “Admittedly, it now appears we have a mutual reason to travel in the same direction; however, I object to our endeavours being subject to the whim of others. I…prefer to have people around me I can rely on.” He flushed. “That sounded pompous. Forgive me.”

“Indeed, though it was as much complimentary as pompous. Have you noticed he looks a little like you?”

Her words must have shocked him for Nathaniel gaped, before snapping his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. “A hint of ginger peppers the man’s hair, and he is tall.” It sounded as if he simply refused to clutter his head with such nonsense.

“What are you studying now?” She purposely spoke as if the pursuit of knowledge were tiresome.

“Without Fenn, I’m doing the work of two men trying to keep the engine room up to spec,” a hiss of steam, and a pop chose that moment to back up his words, “while working out what that peculiar rock could be. I have Arnaud running experiments. And all the while I’m naturally attempting to ascertain all we know of Phobos, although it’s painfully…scarce.”

Seeing Nathaniel drift back into the nexus of theories compounded with questionable facts that the scientists of Earth knew about Phobos, Annabelle quietly slipped away.

2.

“SO THIS IS an engine room.”

Highmore was most amused when Stone rose too quickly, banging his head on an overhang as he backed out from the space where he’d been working.

“Sorry, old boy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Stone gave him a disgruntled look and then said, “Careful. Don’t touch anything. Some of this can be quite hot.”

“You do surprise me.” Highmore injected sarcasm.

“There’s hot and there’s hot. Trust me.”

Highmore gave Stone a searching look. “Very well. I will. Tell me, is it always so unpleasant in here?”

“Yes. I’m afraid we need to conserve both oxygen and moisture and therefore the solar boiler’s safety valve vents into this room.”

“Creates quite the humid atmosphere.” He glanced around, stepped forward, crouched, and fingered one of the books lying open on the floor. “Not a manual. You’ll ruin good books in here.”

“I’ll ruin any book in here, but time is not kind and needs must.” Nathaniel winced no doubt at the smudges of oil on the book Highmore examined, pages curling in the steam.

Highmore read aloud. “Blah blah blah. Moons are named after characters, Phobos meaning panic or fear, and Deimos meaning terror and dread. How cheerful.” He grinned. “The discoverer wrote that since Jupiter has four known moons and Earth one, it was only natural that Mars have two. What defective reasoning.” He skipped some passages.

“Phobos is an irregular shape… More blah. Rises in the West, sets in the East to rise again… ” Highmore looked up. “A heavenly object that sets twice a day, does that not interest you? Something that gives off a barely perceptible but regular outgas that many believe is water? And is it not spiralling inwards, towards Mars?”

Nathaniel’s gaze narrowed. “It’s entirely possible owing to its orbit which is faster than Mars’ rotation. It could move ever closer to Mars and eventually break up.”

“No other…theories as to what could cause the phenomenon?” Before Nathaniel could answer Highmore asked, “How large is it?”

“Quite small. About sixteen miles only at its…”

“Sixteen miles.” Highmore interrupted. “Sixteen miles in a straight line does not seem so much. Sixteen miles down… Plenty of space to harbour a wealth of discoveries, hmm, Professor?”

“If the satellite is hollow, it could in some way account for its comparative lightness of a spatial body and explain the acceleration of orbital motion.”

“I took you for a more candid speaker. Scientists speculate Phobos and Demos are captured asteroids. Others that they are artificial satellites. Interesting theory, do you not think?”

“I have also heard speculation that Phobos could contain a reservoir of ice, which might explain the out-gassing.”

“But it could conform with what we now know of Luna, could it not?”

“You refer of course to the hollow world, the caverns and underground river.”

“Of course. Be honest. Do you think we will find something in the core?”

“It’s entirely possible. Although Phobos is much smaller than Luna. Some astrophysicists have speculated Phobos is of artificial origin, its surface a thin sheet of metal. They base this analysis on estimates of the upper atmosphere of Mars, concluding that Phobos must be light.”

“So, another hollow moon?” Highmore watched Nathaniel regarding him, but if he had given this greater thought, he said nothing.

“Have you discovered anything about the rock? The type of quartz?”

“No. The crystal resembles pale citrine but I no more believe it to be that than diamond. We’re not sure that it is quartz at all.”

“Then what could it be?”

“I have Arnaud working on it now.”

“Ah yes, our Mister Fontaine.”

Something went through Nathaniel’s gaze. Highmore’s intention was to dissect him, but as he examined Nathaniel he in turn felt as if the scientist had him pinned to a board under a microscope.

Highmore straightened up. “Do you know that Phobos and Deimos are often called the sons of Mars?”

“I’ve heard the reference. I prefer to deal in fact rather than myth.”

“Yet names often arise from myth, as do some facts.”

“Some,” Nathaniel admitted.

“You do not find it entertaining that Phobos means fear, Professor Stone?”

“As I said, I’ve heard the reference. Phobos, fearful son of Mars.”

“Quite so. Henry was always fascinated by how things were named. He always felt that often there was just cause.”

“Was?”

“Is.”

“What are you getting at, Mister Highmore?”

“I’m…not sure,” Highmore said, with a slight sound of laughter in his tone. “And please, for the remainder of this trip, let it be Joseph.”

Nathaniel hesitated. “Hardly…”

“Welcome? Appropriate? Not even for comrades going into battle?”

“Battle? We cannot be sure…”

“But I am sure…Nathaniel.” Joseph cast his gaze to the side, overhead, and then back around to stare at Nathaniel again. “I am not talking about the men we may or may not meet on Phobos. I do not know why, but this excursion makes me uneasy.”

“That’s understandable. Your friend…”

“I believe him alive and well. Do not ask me how. Oh, I know I have pushed Elizabeth to face the very real possibility of his demise, but at heart I sense he is alive. Yet I sense…something. A trail of breadcrumbs, perhaps, but all leading to what?”

Highmore thrust out his hand. “Truce?”

Nathaniel made a show of glancing at his less than clean hands, but more likely, he was hesitant to shake on such an agreement.

Highmore laughed. “We will both of us I fear get rather dirtier before this expedition reaches its conclusion.”

Nodding and possibly not knowing how to refuse the handshake without appearing less than gallant, Nathaniel shook. Highmore left a piece of paper pressed into his palm, as they unclasped. Nathaniel understandably looked suspicious, but he unfolded the page.

“It was left with Hat’Kaashteek with instructions and payment for its delivery to Sir Henry at Syrtis Major. Whether the canal Martian would have carried out this request or Henry simply wasted his money is a matter for dispute, but the note found its way into my hands. The communication is primarily to Elizabeth, but I thought it important enough that you see. I have let her read it so she is fully aware of its contents. Once you have finished, I would request that you return it to her. There are some…personal comments, which I ask you to skim. I dithered whether to reveal this to you, but I should hate to retain something that proves important. Henry’s scrawl is untidy, but as you see, he may have found something quite interesting on Phobos. And you will see…the difficulties I face. Henry…has a wonderful nature, but he is in many ways as innocent as Elizabeth. I wished for her to marry someone who could take care of her, not to gain a brother I needed to take care of as much as I do my sister.”

“Yet you blessed the union.”

“I had not the heart to separate them. Not sure if I would have succeeded if I truly tried. Stone…Nathaniel…” Highmore took two steps, stopped. “I was afraid your scientific interest would get the better of you, but Elizabeth insists on seeing this edifice of which Henry writes. Just as she insisted in joining me on this excursion, she intends to see that which, if the worst has happened, may be the true reason that her beloved has lost his life. There is simply no talking her out of it. As I am sure there would be no talking to you. I’ve tried to tell her Phobos is no place for a girl, but she quite threatened that if I interfered she would get Miss Somerset on her side.”

“And all it would take would be for Miss Somerset to hear that we men were against Miss Highmore doing as she saw fit and we would never hear the end of it.”

They stared at one another and, for the first time since they had met, exchanged the most honest of looks. They were men with much the same problem—a headstrong female, although neither man would want the women in question to be different. The way Joseph smiled back; it seemed he was of a similar mind.

“The world is changing, Nathaniel. One day women will be our equals, or even surpass us. I have long accepted they are not the weak things society would have us believe.”

“That’s quite forward thinking.”

“You mean for me? Perhaps I am not the man you imagined me to be.”

Bestowing a small smile, Nathaniel said; “We shall see.”

“Maybe we shall; unfortunately, I fear there may be cause to. Do you believe in premonitions?” Nathaniel shook his head. “Neither did I.” His emphasis was past tense.

Giving Nathaniel a casual salute, Joseph turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. “I’m not a fool, Nathaniel. I am well aware that Folkard and the rest of you have your own reasons for being here. I simply ask you do not allow the expedition to be sidetracked. The retrieval of Henry and his man is paramount. After, then you can both explore to your heart’s content. If necessary, I will aid your own exploration in any way I can…if it benefits Henry, either as investigation or payment in kind. I only ask that Henry’s life comes above all else.”

“I am not the captain of this vessel, Joseph. But, short of weighing up the lives of many for the one, I will do everything I can to rescue Henry if he is still alive.”

As Highmore left he was aware of Nathaniel bending his head and beginning to read.

I have chanced upon an American claiming to be part of an expedition already undergoing a reconnaissance of Phobos for the purpose of technological and empirical investigation. Franklin Miller also mentions their lack of funding. Elizabeth, I am no fool to think that this man believes I can in anyway truly help them. I am quite sure that he sees me as a bottomless pocket, but I am eager to join this team as a means to reach my destination. The idea of nations coming together in joint exploration is a marvellous thing and I would gladly help finance it. Not to the point where it would damage our future happiness, but to aid them enough until they can find additional benefactors. I do not believe Miller a scientist, for he cannot answer the simplest detail of Phobos, or even of Mars. He tries to flub his answers and inevitably gets them wrong even while sounding as if he is the very font of knowledge. It is entirely too funny, dear Elizabeth, and you would be most amused. He’s not even much of a swaddy, as Whitlock would say, and in the British Army certainly wouldn’t even attain the rank of a common soldier. I have asked around and am quite certain he has been a trader on Mars for some time, is gathering supplies and heading out to the Astusapes Highlands to a contact he has there for liftwood. His flyer took some damage and he means to effect repairs before returning to Phobos. He has even been known to deal with High Martians, a type of beast I will not waste time discussing.

My point, Elizabeth, this man is a hired help and nothing more. Perhaps he needs to feel important or believes I will not attend him if he has no scientific knowledge. Carstairs distrusts him, but then he distrusts everyone on my behalf. But some knowledge Miller let slip piqued my already abundant interest.

There is indeed a monolith on Phobos!

Oh Elizabeth, can you even begin to fathom what this could mean? I had heard tell of this strange shape as seen from afar, but all dismiss it as a trick of the light, or damage caused by a meteorite strike, perhaps an interplanetary fragment. Miller probably noticed the mere mention of this was the one thing to insure my help for I must confess, I was unable to contain my enthusiasm. He describes a shape with three sides, two leading to a point, the third side curved. Entirely too uniformed to be natural!

3.

“I CAN TELL you what it isn’t,” Arnaud said in response to Nathaniel’s question. “It is not Silicon Dioxide.”

“Citrine,” Nathaniel translated.

Arnaud smiled.

Folkard having as good as taken the wind from his sails, Nathaniel felt more than deflated. He’d tried to interest the captain in the monolith, to convince him a visit to see it was imperative. What he’d received was a terse, “Not now,” and an explanation concerning Phobos’ short orbital rotation, and the threat of aether vortexes in this location. In other words, Folkard’s undivided attention was needed elsewhere. Nathaniel had dropped in on Arnaud in the laboratory on the way back to the engine room to see if he’d made progress…and because Arnaud’s company lightened his spirits. As Arnaud was standing, Nathaniel sank down into the chair beside him.

“Iron gives citrine the golden colour and extreme heat, naturally occurring or otherwise, gives it the deep burnt golden hue. Pale citrine means no heat. Pity.” Nathaniel frowned at him. “Citrine is said to be a stone that disperses negative energy. I would say we could do with that for there is decidedly too much energy of the wrong sort aboard. Also many believe it attracts…” Arnaud seemed to struggle over choosing an appropriate word. “Bounty or plenty. Some merchants carry citrine for good luck, profit. Something else we could use just now and it would fit with the idea of some imbécile searching for treasure.”

“Treasure to one man is worthless to another.”

“Exactement.”

“So what else is it not?”

Arnaud spread his hands. “You ask the impossible. I require better facilities. Even to do a hardness test… This sample is hard and does not break. Even if I could test the pressure point, I would have to attempt to crush the whole thing, as I cannot get the right size sample. I have managed a couple of slivers only and then because they are flaking off, not because I broke them loose.

“I’ve tested for the presence of gold as it does seem to…glitter in its depths, but I thought that was in error before I started. Only fool’s gold flakes. Still, I put a drop of muriatic acid on the stone.”

“And?”

“Nothing happened. This would usually indicate gold… ” Arnaud made a dismissive gesture.

“You’re convinced it’s not. And not diamond?”

“Non. I have managed the scratch test. This is, in places…I would say harder than diamond. In others, where flaking, not hard at all. I’m performing a calcium carbonate test on one of the flakes. A simple basic level test, but ideally it should sit for several hours or overnight. I keep checking, but no bubbles.”

The word “bubbles” spoken with Arnaud’s accent made Nathaniel laugh. Arnaud frowned at him, which made him laugh harder. He rolled back in the chair, giving way to what felt very close to hysteria. The idea that he might not be able to control the wild laughter that threatened was the very thing to chase it back. By the time he managed to recover, Arnaud was on his knees beside him, looking at him with an expression that threatened to set him off again. “Forgive me. I’ve not too long ago shared a very strange conversation with Joseph Highmore and it gave me much to consider. We have much to discuss, you and I.”

“Tell me in a moment. Before you do, I have something equally important to tell you.”

“Such as?”

“You are quite damp and have dirt on your cheek.” Arnaud reached out to brush it off. “Now I have made it worse. And there is dirt here…and here.” He punctuated the words with the lightest touch.

Then, for a while, there was silence.