Chapter One

“What the Heart wants…”

1.

A WEEK HAD passed since leaving Earth and the changing atmosphere on board Esmeralda 2 was tangible. If the rest of the crew had not identified this among themselves, then Arnaud had. He had seen the pattern many times before. Take a group of people, place them in one space for a long period of time, and they were bound to suffer from some kind of fièvre.

Regardless of Arnaud’s thoughts on the mental state on the crew, he endeavoured to maintain a positive disposition. Poetry had kept him occupied since depositing the minerals found on Ceres and Venus with the research team on Earth; he had bought several books during their “shore leave” in London.

But poetry could always wait for the company of friends. He set his literature aside, placing it in his little net bag, when Annabelle entered

“As much as I trust Jacob, I still cannot but harbour a slight scepticism of his decisions from time to time.” Annabelle’s eyes focused on nothing as she spoke

“He believes in the Heart. Do you not also?”

She looked out of sorts, but Arnaud didn’t think it would be an apt time to probe. Another indication of cabine fièvre? No doubt.

“No, I do.” A hollow half-smile crept up her face, and she looked Arnaud straight in the eye.

Ah, there was the direct girl he knew. But when he smiled back, she averted her gaze again with a soft sigh.

“It’s just that, I feel…” Her voice trailed off.

“The journey, let alone the mission, is tiresome at times, Annabelle. I’m sure Captain Folkard is tested as much as we,” Arnaud said, prodding a small mass of corned beef on a plate in front of him. It had a strong enough adhesive property to stick to the plate and not float away. The scientist in him was intrigued by the demonstration of the principles of viscosity. The gourmand in him was trying hard not to think upon it at all.

Annabelle got up from the table, having hardly touched her own food.

“Arnaud,” she cut through a brief, but uneasy silence. “I am suffering from quite the niggling headache and feel it fitting to retire to my stateroom. Would you mind attending to my things?” She gestured to the food and drink receptacles on the table.

Arnaud nodded graciously

He had been eager to read through the newly published poems of the one his father called La femme en blanc. But wasn’t he in the middle of something?

Arnaud pulled out a well battered, leather-backed book, many pages of which were misshapen or misaligned. He opened the book. Fragments of paper floated freely from it.

Ah, yes, Tennyson.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark.

2.

IT FELT GOOD to stretch his legs in the ship, even if it was just a stroll along the observation gangway. Nathanial was in a genial mood at that moment. He was very much looking forward to testing the newly-installed aether propeller governor. Passing so close to the aether vortex normally would have made him terribly anxious, but he had confidence in this latest addition.

He reached the engine room, letting himself in, and peered around for Jack; seeing no indication of him, Nathanial proceeded into the room. A jet of steam escaped one of the pipes, letting out a high pitched whistling noise, causing him to catch himself.

“Evening, Prof.”

Nathanial jumped.

“Sorry,” Jack Fenn said, laughing. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I was not scared, merely testing the gravity, or lack thereof.”

“So…scared, yes?” Fenn continued, with an easy grin.

Nathanial gave Jack a reprimanding look, and the young seaman looked away. Nathanial stalled for a second, surprised by Jack’s unusual glance aside. It was not like Jack to give in so easily. Deciding to leave it for later, Nathanial continued; “We have business to discuss.”

He walked through the steam, over to the aether propeller governor. They had finished its construction shortly after leaving Venus and had finally installed it while Esmeralda had rested in its cradle at Chatham Dockyard. He placed his hand on the oak finish. “It seems we may get to use this soon.”

Jack nodded. “The captain has predicted a vortex?”

Nathanial had not considered that. He forgot that the aether vortex was not a constant, but rather the result of Earth and Mar’s orbital wakes crossing. “Ah, I did not ask.”

“Then perhaps we’ll get lucky.”

“Lucky?” Nathanial shuddered at the memory of Peregrine and the loss of life one such aether vortex had caused. “Hmm, remind me to tell you about the Peregrine disaster.”

Jack frowned.

“I think I shall retire to the laboratory now,” Nathanial said, “unless you require me to take over from you tonight? I could keep the engines ticking over while you get some rest.”

“Thanks, Prof, but tell you the truth, been itching to get back in the aether.”

There was something in the way Jack said that which gave Nathanial pause. He shook it away once again. Jack’s reasons for wanting to return to the aether were his own, and it wasn’t Nathanial’s place to pry.

“Very good, Jack. In that case I bid you goodnight.” He left the engine room and headed for his favourite part of the ship—his lab.

3.

THE PLATE GLEAMED in the light of the single Edison bulb that poorly illuminated the lab. Arnaud smiled as he ran a finger over the crystal plate but froze at the sound of footsteps clicking along the gangway.

He lurched forward, with such force he almost ploughed face first into the floor. Upside-down he scrambled underneath the cot for the small leather satchel in which he kept the plate, and shoved it inside

He heard the wooden door behind him begin to open. He clumsily fastened the strap and returned it untethered to its hiding place, and hoped that it would not find the momentum to float away from beneath the cot. That would be…unfortunate. It had happened in the past. Arnaud’s clutter often mingled with Nathanial’s.

Nathanial strode in: as best one can stride in a place void of gravity. He coughed.

“Are you well, Nathanial? It would be most unfitting for you to become ill after my own ailment has finally subsided, thanks to successful application of asterium, of course.”

“No, no, I’m fine, Just a slight cough.”

Nathanial looked flush. Strange. It was just a small cough he seemed to have. Regardless, Arnaud was glad that Nathanial was seemingly unaware of the plate.

Nathanial glanced around the room. “How goes the research with the minerals?”

“There was actually something else I had been interested in for the time being,” Arnaud replied, gesturing to a medium-sized wooden crate that was strapped to a table. He had in fact been quite occupied with his minerals; however, he had something else that he wanted to tell Nathanial about. This was something that Nathanial could involve himself with a lot more than his passion for minerals.

“Oh?”

Arnaud quickly put on his magnetic slippers and then moved over to unfasten the crate. “I found this waiting for me at my father’s house. An old friend of mine, an inventor of sorts, had been developing this and ran into a few hiccoughs, as it were. He was wondering if I could improve the design.” He opened the crate and the wondrous contraption inside was revealed.

To Arnaud’s delight, Nathanial’s eyes lit up. It appeared to be a kind of lamp, with three terrariums atop a brass and wooden box. One terrarium contained a plant and the two smaller ones contained what looked like wicks.

“Get it on to the table then. Let’s see what we have!” Nathanial said, his face beaming.

Arnaud smiled, hoping that this was a project that would break up the days. But he was even more glad that he could share it with Nathanial.

4.

IT HAD BEEN nice to keep the company of Arnaud while in the common room, but Annabelle was left frustrated by the ill-feeling that had been gnawing at the back of her mind. She knew that there was something amiss, but could not quite put her finger on it. The most obvious answer had been her disappointment that her betrothed was not available while Esmeralda docked on Earth, but that was only a part of it. There was something else.

The thoughts had been in her head ever since she had retired to her room, and they would not release their grip on her. She had been trying to sleep, but to no avail. Every time she thought she had cleared her mind, it drifted back to Bedford. She missed him dearly; when would she see him again?

After spending more time failing to achieve sleep, Annabelle decided to take a visit to the control deck to see Folkard. They had not really had a chance to speak since returning to the ship.

Unusually the control deck door was closed, so she knocked tentatively.

“Ah, Miss Annabelle, what can I do for you?”

“Sorry for the intrusion, Captain. I cannot sleep.”

Folkard cleared his throat. “If you will forgive my impertinence, may I enquire if this has something to do with Commander Bedford’s inability to attend you on Earth?”

Annabelle was taken aback. “How…how did you know?”

Folkard chuckled. “Hardly a secret, my dear. Charlotte and I…” He smiled sadly. “We had the same trouble. The life of a Navy captain and his wife is not the easiest. Much like everything in life, the best things are those for which you must work the hardest. There were many times I missed Charlotte more than I’d care to admit, but the thought of seeing her again kept me going. Such thoughts can keep you going, too. And if you ever need it, you can come to me.”

For a moment silence sat comfortably between them. “You miss her still.”

Folkard looked away, his eyes drifting to the aether outside. “Always,” he said, “and completely.”

5.

ANNABELLE AWOKE TO complete darkness.

“Hello?” she called out uncertainly. No response. She felt as if she was standing up. When had she got out of bed? Was she just imagining all of this?

There was a noise just in front of her, to her right side. Annabelle held her breath, expecting a strike. Nothing came. Instead, she heard the soft crunch of feet pattering on a grassy floor—where was she? Now that she had noticed the sound of the grass, she could feel it between her toes. The footsteps came to a stop, followed by a sharp thud.

“Hello?”

She heard a young girl sniffling, punctuated by several small sobs.

“I’m scared,” the girl whimpered.

“What are you scared of?” Annabelle said into the darkness. “I can help you!”

“No, you can’t. No-one can.”

There was a blinding flash of light. She was in an open plain at night. It was almost familiar. Giant mountains in the distance seemed to pierce the sky. The grassy floor filled the immediate area. Sitting in front of her was the young, sobbing girl. She had her back to Annabelle. All thoughts of how she could be here fell out of her mind as a maternal instinct took over, and she walked quickly to the girl’s side.

“Go away,” the girl said, not looking Annabelle in the face.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, worried only for the safety of the girl.

“I said go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Annabelle knelt by the girl, and tried to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but the girl shrugged her off, still sniffling. She watched the girl for a few moments, trying to figure out what to say to her. The girl jumped up at a sound in the distance.

“What was that?” Annabelle asked her, looking around for the source of the sound. Without answer, the girl ran away. To or away from the source, Annabelle could not tell. She tried to give chase, but the girl had already sprinted far enough away that Annabelle would never be able to catch her. She stumbled as she ran, falling flat on her face.

And awoke face down on her bed, sweating profusely. She shot up and looked around her. She was definitely in her quarters aboard the flyer. Had it all just been a dream? She took a sip from the water by her bedside, the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach slowly fading away.

That was all it had been. A dream. It would be silly to get worked up over that. She lay back down in bed, trying again for a peaceful sleep.

6.

ARNAUD FOUND HIMSELF lying flat against the hard floor, trying to remember where he was and how he got there.

He sat up, only to be met with wave of light-headedness. He steadied himself and drew a deep breath. It came as a surprise that what he found before him was quite pleasant, almost picturesque.

Beautiful stone walls bathed in a slate grey shade wrapped their way around to form a single room. There was a fireplace to his left that radiated rich warmth, whereas in front of him was a large door, nestled between two ornate windows.

Odd, but he was not going to complain. His vision clearer, he stood up.

Next to the windows there was a wooden table and chair. Perhaps this was some sort of lodge? He tried to peer out a window, but the frostiness of the pane did not allow him to do so. He pulled up at the cast-iron latch and heaved open the door.

The brightness seared into his eyes and they screwed shut involuntarily. He brought up an arm to shield his face then opened his eyes cautiously as he shuffled through the doorframe. The chill hit him, but was not a deadly cold.

The landscape began as a white blur, and then slowly took form.

It was quite the spectacular view. The house was perched atop a large rolling mountain. The plains below were so extensive that Arnaud had trouble figuring out where the land stopped and the sky began. There were no visible celestial objects to been seen above, but a plenitude of light emitted from somewhere.

His admiration at the sight was interrupted. There was a snapping sound nearby. Arnaud turned to look. There was another house to the right roughly ten feet away. Only this one was made of not just wood, but sticks, too. The bizarre choice of building material bothered Arnaud’s sense of engineering. How the structure maintained its integrity was a mystery, with sticks piled up to form walls, longer sticks sloping down to create the roof.

Such a structure could not be water-tight, or even resistant to the elements. Even the “windows” seemed to be only constructed of two thin slivers of stick, crossed over one other.

Then he saw him. Through one of the gaps in the walls, a tall man slumped on a chair made of a similar ramshackle wooden design.

“Nathanial,” Arnaud whispered.

Before he had even a chance to react, a large, dark, hairy beast emerged from behind the stick house.

Arnaud would have sworn he could almost name it, but couldn’t say why. Eyes like onyx met Arnaud’s gaze. Its mouth crept up, forming what could only be described as a mangled smile. But was happiness the emotion that this creature was trying to convey? Did this beast even have the capacity to convey such a thing?

Without warning the beast swung a colossal arm at the house and it sent splinters flying. Arnaud flinched so much so that he fell backward, landing on his posterior.

“Merde!” No, this was not right! “Arrêter! You know better than this!”

The beast looked straight at him. Arnaud looked deeper into its eyes and recognition flushed through the Frenchman, but they appeared to be blacker than the last time Arnaud had seen them; the kind of black that was devoid of all reason and logic. For a moment they bathed in each other’s gaze, only to be broken when Arnaud turned to look back through the gap in the house’s wall, searching for his…

There! It was definitely Nathanial, Arnaud had no doubt about that, but something was amiss about him.

All his features were present; his head of red hair, his rich whiskers. But he seemed to be drained of colour. He almost looked like a daguerreotype, unmoving and…

Was he alive?

Adrenaline seared through Arnaud as he bolted for the door, powering through the thick layer of snow the ground was coated in. He was nearly there when he saw a lumbering movement on his periphery and he dropped out of instinct.

As he fell, he saw a huge arm swing over him and then crash into the house once again.

It sounded like a giant breaking a twig.

Shielding his eyes from a mist of splinter, Arnaud scrambled for the door handle while rising from the floor to his knees. The beast pulled his fist out of the wall, leaving a gaping gash big enough for a man to pass through.

Arnaud dived through it.

Inside, the room was cramped and unpleasant. The beast continued to tear through walls but Arnaud was more preoccupied with his friend lifelessly perched on the chair. He scrambled over to Nathanial, planted his hands on each shoulder and shook. “Nathanial, we must leave this place!” But there was no response, only a vacant stare fixing on nothing.

There was a huge smashing sound. The beast was now inside.

“Listen to me, Nathanial! We are not safe.” Arnaud grabbed his hand; he was icy cold to the touch. He tried to wrench Nathanial out of the chair, but he seemed to be fixed in place.

The beast could be heard getting closer, breathing heavily.

Arnaud was not leaving without Nathanial. He turned his head, just in time to see the tusked maw that was moving to envelope him…

He woke violently, thrashing out, clammy from the heat of the lab.

“Have you quite finished?” asked a sleepy voice nearby.

Arnaud was out of breath; he had never had a dream quite like that before. “I had nightmare,” he managed between gasps.

“That much was evident, I assure you.”

Arnaud saw a ginger head emerge from near his feet. Prior to leaving Earth, Nathanial had allowed Arnaud free use of the cot he had set up in the lab, due to the illness that had ailed him since Ceres, but now that he was well again Arnaud had insisted that they equally share the cot. At first Nathanial was against the idea: “really, Arnaud, what would the captain say at such an idea?” But Arnaud pointed out, with his usual irrérvérence, that he did not require the captain’s presence in his bed, too. Nathanial had soon relented.

“What could have occurred in that dream of yours that I should receive such a thrashing?” Nathanial asked, with a tone of annoyance tinged with sympathy.

Arnaud realised that some of the erratic movements in his dreams must have translated into the real world. “Sorry, mon cher ami, it was slightly distressing.”

At this Nathanial sat up, his brows creasing in concern. “So… What of the dream?”

“Oh, nothing, it just a dream, non?” Arnaud batted away the question quickly. He was still rife with the emotion of the dream itself, so he couldn’t discuss it. “Let us rest, though. It will not do well for us to have our sleep being disturbed.” Arnaud turned over and hoped that he would forget the dream.