Chapter Four

“Of Stone and Men”

1.

“NEW HORIZONS FOR ME.”

Christopher Henry regarded his companion, who sat at the other end of the room slowly puffing on his pipe. As ever, Gordon Baxter said little, allowing his grey eyes to speak for him. He nodded slowly. It was agreed; they were going to take the job, but no need to let their new employer know just yet.

“I have often heard it is advantageous to broaden such horizons, Mister Henry,” the man called Mister L said. He was a smart man, both in dress and in aspect—a handsome, distinguished gent with a charismatic cast to his eyes. His black hair, slightly receding, was oiled back against his scalp and slightly greying at the temples. “You will be paid handsomely, every expense taken care of.” He lifted the papers from the table that sat between him and Henry. “You have read the brief?”

“We have. Seems awfully complicated.”

“The Bureau seem to regard you experts when it comes to the complicated.”

Baxter almost choked on his pipe at the mention of the Bureau. Was it impossible to keep anything secret anymore? Henry tried to cover up Baxter’s response with a smile. “Very well. Don’t think we’ve ever been to Arizona before.”

Mister L did not return the smile. Instead he looked from Henry to Baxter and back again. “There is one small thing. If you should care to earn a healthy bonus I would be gratified if you could kill a lady for me.”

“I say! A lady? See here, sir, we will do many things, but when it comes to attacking the fairer sex…” The price of the bonus was mentioned softly, and Henry continued. “…We like to consider ourselves readily adaptable. Does this lady have a name?”

“She does. Mrs Annabelle Bedford.”

Baxter sat forward. “I believe I know the name. The wife of Commander George Bedford, as I understand it.” He nodded slowly, his features giving nothing away as was his wont. “Am I to assume Commander Bedford will be there?”

Mister L nodded. “I would imagine so. They are on their honeymoon, after all.”

“Then it will be a pleasure. Won’t it, Mister Henry?”

Henry wondered as to Baxter’s sudden enthusiasm. He rarely got enthusiastic about anything, and to engage so freely with an employer meant he was very enthusiastic indeed. It was something he would discover en route to the Americas.

Mister L stood suddenly. “Then I take my leave of you, gentlemen. I have a long journey ahead of me, and another problem to take care of.”

“Anything we can help you with?” Henry asked. Extra business was always a good thing.

“Oh no,” Mister L said, smiling for the first time, “Professor Stone is all mine.”

2.

“JAPPETH KELP WAS RIGHT.”

Nathaniel Stone stood about fifteen miles from the gorge, the one-hundred-foot wide chasm which led to the heart of British interests on Luna. He stood next to Doctor Marcus Kaplan, a geologist specialising in mineralogy and structural geology who was assigned to Otterbein Base, safe in their atmosphere suits, a speaking-tube linking them, their cutter parked some distance away. The gorge was set directly in the middle of a basin some sixty miles long, and forty wide; using a cutter to travel the fifteen miles was the safest and most logical method, carrying them up through the gorge from the ship dock that had been constructed a short walk from Otterbein Base. Although Kaplan had spoken, Nathaniel’s eyes were still locked on the ships that continued to patrol Luna, some within its low gravity, others much further above; protecting the one secret the British Empire had left.

Luckily, until his aether propeller governor design became more commonplace, the Royal Navy had the upper hand. Already, in the eleven months since Annabelle had been forced to sign over the patent, as many naval ships as possible had been fitted with the governor, giving them the manoeuvrability in Luna’s low gravity that other nations could only dream of. Except for Russia. They had their own modulation device designed by Tereshkov, but up until now the Royal Navy had done a good job in keeping the Russians away from Luna, the odd aggressive incursion notwithstanding. From what Nathaniel could glean from hurried reports, he would even go so far as to say the Russians had lost all interest in Luna, and were only making a show of chest-beating to try and keep the British on their toes.

What with Grant betraying them all, and his discoveries, it was no surprise at all. The tsar was done with Luna.

It was comforting to have so many naval ships protecting Luna, but Nathaniel wished one of them was Sovereign. Unfortunately, she was needed elsewhere. He strained his eyes and smiled softly, certain he could see one of the new Royal Sovereign-class battleships somewhere up there. It was close, but there was no replacing the prototype ship after which that class had been named. He looked forward to stepping foot on that ship again, but first he had to work out just what it was Grant had discovered, and if it was worth such a betrayal.

Nathaniel turned away from the ships above and looked down at Kaplan, who was kneeling down, his gloved hand holding a piece of rock. It was the usual black found all over the surface of Luna, but what marked it as different were the green flecks embedded within. The flecks seemed to glow in the earthlight, making the lunar rock appear to pulse with a hidden energy.

Nathaniel crouched down next to Kaplan and took the rock. “Jothrick,” he said, his eyes narrowed, thinking of the name Kelp had given the aleksandrite when Nathaniel had first shown him the sample he had brought with him from Earth. This confirmed what he had been told about the cave in Arizona. It stood to reason that the Drobates would have their own name for it.

Nathaniel returned the rock to Kaplan and consulted the map. “So, we’re directly above the City of Light and Science,” he said. “And, unless, I’m mistaken, directly above the antenna that sits atop the city.”

“You’re still convinced that’s what it is?”

Nathaniel shrugged, in as much as he could in the suit. He doubted the gesture really translated.

He had come to his conclusion after a few weeks of exploration of the city, his guide a Drobate called Jappeth Kelp, one of the more intelligent Drobates and one of the few that still communicated with the scientists from Otterbein, albeit with a very rudimentary mode of speech. It seemed that relations between the Drobates and the research team at Otterbein had soured in the past few months, although no-one at the base could quite give a good reason why. Nathaniel had questioned Kelp on this, but she would not comment except to mutter something about “it awakes”, a statement she refused to expand upon no matter how many times Nathaniel pressed the issue. He could only assume it was something to do with the Heart, a supposition strengthened when he considered that the time of their slow withdrawal coincided with his discovery of the Eye of Phobos and the monoliths there.

Nathaniel stood up straight and looked out towards the horizon. “We’re on a direct line for the Great Gorge.”

For a moment Kaplan followed Nathaniel’s eye line, then he slowly turned back and shook his head. “I do not see what the jothrick has to do with the gorge.”

“Have you never heard of the glow?” Nathaniel was referring to the strange glow seen to emanate from the dark side of the moon at irregular intervals. And as Nathaniel himself had witnessed in April the previous year, the glow seemed to be a mile across, with the gorge at its centre.

Kaplan made a movement; Nathaniel couldn’t be sure what it meant, such was the awkward bulk of the atmosphere suit. He was probably shrugging back. “Vague stories. But what possible interest could that have, compared to the mysteries we are uncovering almost every day in the City of Light and Science?”

“I feel working at Otterbein Base has dulled your curiosity, Doctor Kaplan, if indeed you had one at all.”

“Steady on, Stone! I would not be here with you right now were I not curious.”

Nathaniel smiled at the affront in Kaplan’s voice. He’d ruffled the old boy’s feathers, and that was enough. “Quite right, Marcus, quite right.” He turned back towards the gorge. “But this glow… It was the investigation of the glow which first attracted Doctors Grant and Tereshkov. And I think that’s important. An important piece of the puzzle I am trying to solve.”

“How so? I thought you were here to uncover the origin of the jothrick?” Kaplan held up the rock, waggling it so the green flecks glittered in the earthlight to make his point.

“I am. A strange alien substance of unknown origin, with the most incredibly adaptable properties, that is connected to the Drobates and is, if I am not mistaken, the source of the crystals that make up most of their great city. I believe the greatest concentration of jothrick is around the mouth of the gorge; however, something must channel it from the antenna.”

“What makes you think that?”

Nathaniel chose to ignore the question. He would reveal his findings in time. “If we dig due west of here, I think you’ll find no further trace of the jothrick, but if we dig due east, towards the gorge, I’ll think you’ll discover the deposits of jothrick increases the nearer we get to the gorge.” He crouched down and placed his palm against the rocky surface. “It starts here, directly above the city’s antenna.”

Kaplan shook his head. “But how does this connect to the glow?”

“The jothrick, or aleksandrite as it was named by the Russians, was also found in Arizona of all places.” Nathaniel took the moon rock from Kaplan and pointed it at the gorge. “A mysterious green substance.”

Kaplan smiled. “Of course! The glow is said to be a strange green-blue.”

“Yes. Not unlike the wake of Imperator as it raced away from Sovereign. Yet another application for the mysterious substance. An advantage the Russians have on us all. Grant was on that ship, and he knows something about jothrick that I don’t. The glow brought him to Luna, and not once, in all the time I spent with him, had I even considered to ask him what he discovered. That was my mistake.”

For a moment Kaplan was silent. Then he asked; “You think Grant’s study of the glow led him to the jothrick somehow?”

Nathaniel nodded, his eyes never leaving the gorge. “Has anyone ever measured the intervals between the emanations? No, I don’t suppose they have. Too blinded by the treasures beneath the surface. When I was first here, I made the supposition that it was a signal, a message being sent by an alien intelligence out to the stars, a supposition Grant confirmed when we found him near the Heart. But back then he did not know where the signal was being sent, although we agreed it was possible that it was being directed at the world from which the Drobates originated. Have you read the paper on the Eye of Phobos?”

“By that Brooker chap? Barely had a chance to skim, I’m afraid, although when it was published Otterbein Base was abuzz with talk of it. A dead Heart at that moon’s centre, called the Eye, and the hypothesis that it developed its own breed of life-forms called Chaldrites, I believe, much like the Heart did with the Selenites on this rock.”

“Just skimmed, you say?”

Kaplan smiled. “Well, I haven’t had a chance to study it, but enough to spark an interest. Many of us wish to go to Phobos and continue our studies there. Visit the crystal city built by these Chaldrites.”

Nathaniel couldn’t help but smile at that. The paper was, of course, written by him under his alias. He could not publish it himself since he was legally dead. A research team was being assembled to take up residence inside Phobos, indeed a small team had been there since the beginning of October, but with the publication of his paper shortly after, the British government was getting a little antsy and wished to stake a claim before any other entrepreneurs did so. He was surprised that, once again, the Russians didn’t show more of an interest. It was no coincidence that a Russian man was part of the team who took advantage of Barnsdale-Stevens’ good fortune; he was almost certainly working on behalf of Grant and the paymaster to whom he had betrayed them all.

“Then you know that Brooker hypothesised that perhaps the Heart had been attempting to communicate with the Eye?”

“Yes…?”

Good, now he had Kaplan’s interest. “There was little to support that, except that the monoliths seem to communicate via sound waves below the normal perception of man. I think that this glow communicates further out, that it, as well as the monoliths on Phobos, are part of a network. Broadcasting further away than our science can currently take us.”

“Upon what do you base this supposition?”

“The Drobates.”

Kaplan shook his head. “Unlikely, given the Drobates’ current level of intelligence. And the Heart communicates through some kind of telepathy, not with technology.”

Telepathy. Nathaniel blinked, a memory forcing its way to the front of his mind. Before he had returned to Luna he had studied the lump of jothrick Tally had returned to him, and one night after tiredness had claimed him he had fallen asleep wishing he had a bigger sample to work on. When he woke the next day he found that the sample had grown somehow. He did further tests, but could discover no reason why it would suddenly grow like that. Unless… The Drobates, the Heart, they communicated with their minds, and only humans who had some latent telepathy could understand them. Did the jothrick somehow respond to that?

Hidden by the helmet he wore, Kaplan standing a good head shorter, Nathaniel smiled. Sometimes being human was a slow path of realisation.

“They are alien, Doctor, why should they communicate as we do? Indeed, is not speech just a form of sound? And do not Indians communicate with smoke signals? There are many forms of communication. The Heart uses several. Telepathy, the glow, and sound as witnessed on Phobos. Who knows what other ways it can communicate.”

Kaplan considered this. “All true, Professor. But what has this to do with the Drobates?”

“Ah yes, an ancient civilisation. One which did not originate on Luna.”

“This much we know, yes.”

“But what you do not know, because it was not in Brooker’s paper—indeed its inclusion was forbidden—is that the Drobates existed on Phobos as some point. There is much evidence to suggest that they were once well-travelled. I suspect there is evidence of their presence throughout the Solar System, thus far undiscovered.”

“Really, Stone? You base this on their connection to two of our moons?”

Nathaniel shook his head. He was revealing more than he should, but he would be needing Kaplan’s expertise soon. He would rather have Arnaud with him, but his toujours was in no fit state to travel, especially not to Luna. Kaplan was a well-respected geologist, certainly close to Arnaud’s equal. “No. You have not spoken much with Doctor Quintana, I suppose?”

“No, our paths have not crossed a great deal. Indeed, I was surprised that he’d been allowed to join us on Luna. I can’t see why our government would share our findings with a Spaniard.”

“Ah, they have not. Quintana was given special dispensation to work here based on my recommendation and that of Captain Folkard. He is something of an expert on Drobates; indeed it was he who first discovered evidence of their presence on Phobos. A Drobate skull no less.”

“Good grief! So much going on right under my nose.”

“Quite. More than you realise. Now, not only did he discover a skull on Phobos, but remains of a Drobate culture on Hygeia, one of the asteroids that previously formed the lost planet Vulcan. It was his expertise that was the sole reason I sent him back to Earth.” Nathaniel paused. Secrets that were not his to share. Alas, there was no-one from the government to prevent him. “I sent him to Arizona, to examine evidence of Drobates on Earth.” Nathaniel almost laughed at the shock on Kaplan’s face. “You see, my dear Doctor Kaplan, the Drobates were not always as they are now. Their civilisation spread far and wide, and is intricately connected to the Heart—or rather Hearts, for I feel sure there are more besides the one on Luna and the Eye of Phobos. And I believe the glow, the monoliths—it is all one big network of communication stretching out to the Drobates home.” He paused in thought and glanced down at the rock in his hand. What else had it been used for? “I need to talk to the Heart,” he decided, and turned back towards their cutter.

Kaplan remained where he was for a moment, before looking at Nathaniel’s retreating form. “The Heart hasn’t communicated with anyone since Grant left Earth.”

Nathaniel stopped and turned so that he was looking directly at Kaplan. “Then it’s high time we made it talk. We also need a team to dig here, see how far down the jothrick goes. I wager it goes right down to the cavern roof directly above the city’s antenna.”

3.

THE DETOUR HAD COST HIM precious time, but now at last Le Boeuf’s carriage was pulling up to the large country house in Dartmoor and he found his mood to be like the weather. Bitter and cold.

Three men awaited him. The short, stocky form of John Delany, with his eternal squint and limp; Doctor James Mortimer MRCS, the complete opposite of Delany—very tall and thin, with a nose like a beak, jutting out between two keen eyes that were set closely behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His clothes, although professional in form, were much like Delany’s; slovenly worn, his frock coat dingy and his trousers frayed. Despite his relatively young years—he was the youngest of Le Boeuf’s faithful entourage—his long back was already bowed and he walked with a forwards thrust of his head, giving him a general air of benevolence. The third man was merely a footman, and therefore of little interest to Le Boeuf. Mortimer and the footman stood back as Delany limped towards the carriage and opened the door, bowing as Le Boeuf removed himself from inside.

“A pleasure to see you again, sir. Your guest has arrived. Indeed, he arrived yesterday, and as you were delayed we did wonder what to do with him. Luckily, Doctor Mortimer was on hand.”

Le Boeuf regarded Delany, and dismissed him with a wave of the hand. He was in no mood for such toadying. Instead he stepped past and set off towards the country house, known simply as the Hall. It was a large affair, with two towers rising from the central block, ancient and pierced with many loopholes. To the left and right of the towers were modern wings of black granite. The whole front of the Hall was covered in ivy, with patches clipped here and there to allow for the windows and doorways.

For a moment Mortimer looked to the ground, shook his head, and stepped in beside him.

“Sir Charles?” Le Boeuf asked, talking of the owner of the Hall.

“Is away in Toronto visiting his nephew,” Mortimer said.

“Good. I could do without his inane prattling.”

Mortimer glanced back. “Are you sure you wish Delany to carry your belongings? He isn’t very good with his hands.” He chuckled. “At least, not in that sense.”

“There is nothing of value that he can damage. And besides, if he does, I’m certain he will parse the blame onto the staff. I have other uses for Delany. For now it will suffice for him to fetch and carry.”

“As you say.”

Le Boeuf stopped and looked up at the Hall. England he hated with a passion, but the Hall… He had many happy memories of spending weekends here with Thaddeus, Charles, and Henry, before things had turned sour through Henry van den Bosch’s greed and stupidity. Yes, it was good to be back in Dartmoor, despite the chill around him. It would take some time to prepare his guest for surgery, and a stroll on the moors would do him well. He was a man often alone with his thoughts, but since returning to Earth he had found himself surrounded by far too many people who liked to talk. The solitude he had enjoyed on Peregrine was a thing of the past. Yes, a stroll outside would do him the world of good. Perhaps it would even fix his mood. He needed to be in the best frame of mind for what lay ahead.

“I trust you have brought your dog with you?”

If Mortimer was surprised by the question, he did not show it. Instead he replied without missing a beat. “I have. He goes everywhere with me.”

“Excellent.” A pause. “You are now familiar with the aleksandrite?”

This time Mortimer did take a moment to reply. “As well as I can be,” he said. Since their college days Mortimer had gone on to quite a successful career, having worked as House Surgeon in Charing Cross Hospital and Medical Officer for the parishes of Thorsley, High Barrow and Grimpen, as well as publishing several papers on comparative pathology and atavism. But none of that, Le Boeuf knew, could have prepared him for aleksandrite—although his ability as a surgeon was a key reason for his employment in the task ahead. “It is the most curious thing. I do not think I have ever across it’s like before, but yes, I think I can work with it. I’m afraid I did not get much chance to exchange notes with Miss Moonsinge.”

“And neither will you be able to do so again. It appears she has departed my employ.”

“A great pity. She had quite an exceptional mind, for a woman.”

“Yes. She did. Very well,” Le Boeuf snapped, now tired of the small talk. He looked back at Delany and the footman who, between them, managed to hold everything he had brought with him from Russia. “To business. Delany, if you would be so kind to place those in my rooms? And you, Doctor Mortimer. Accompany me to see our guest, if you would.”

It was not a question.

4.

THE STRESS WAS GETTING too much for him. Kaplan could tell. What with the recent changes to the status quo on Luna, including the bolstering of the Army presence with a brigade of Royal Marines now under the command of Major Larkins, and the Drobates increasing lack of cooperation, the director of Otterbein Base—one Professor Robert George—was beginning to cave under the pressure. His previously well-ordered operation of seventeen months was slowly falling apart around his ears.

Professor Stone’s presence did not help matters one jot.

The three of them now stood in George’s office, the director standing behind his desk, fists resting on the surface, his face a picture of anger directed at Stone. “You swan in here with your letter, counter-signed by the First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, the head of the Secret Service Bureau and the Prime Minster, disrupt months of research, barely share a word with the men who have spent over a year and half working here, and somehow gain the trust and cooperation of the Drobates in a matter of weeks, and then, only yesterday, you finally deign to work alongside Doctor Kaplan…and now you want this? Are you out of your mind, Professor?”

Kaplan had never seen such anger from Director George before; the man was usually so obsequious in his attitude, aiming to please everyone equally, from Selenites to Major Larkins. Kaplan had heard much about Stone in his time on Luna, several of his colleagues had met Stone on his previous visit to the moon, and all spoke of an upstanding and intelligent scientist, who had stood his ground against the very worst of odds. Now Kaplan was seeing that infamous resolve firsthand. Stone barely responded to George’s outburst, instead he just stood there, hands behind his back, a slight smile on his face. He nodded slowly.

“Maybe I am, Professor George, but then this is Luna. The place of madmen.”

“If I may,” Kaplan said, certain that Stone was intentionally baiting the director now. “The information gained from Jappeth Kelp has been proven accurate. Professor Stone has explained his theory, or some of it at least, and his request is reasonable.”

Director George looked from Kaplan to Stone and back again. He took a deep breath. “Reasonable?” he asked, his voice a little calmer now. “What he requests has little to do with why we’re here. Why would deposits of this jothrick by the gorge matter to the discoveries we are making down here?” He paused, his steely look never swaying from Stone’s smiling visage. “Perhaps if you shared with me the particulars of your mission here? I am, after all, director of this facility and…”

Stone raised a hand, silencing Director George. “That is not your concern. As you have rightly said, I am here under the authority of three of the most powerful men in the British Empire. Men who, with an idle snap of their fingers, can have you removed from your post in an instant.” He stepped closer to the desk, his voice growing quieter as he did. “You will acquiesce to my request, Professor, because you have no choice. Doctor Kaplan here will supervise the team and report his findings directly to me. I am only coming to you as a courtesy.”

Kaplan remained behind when Stone departed the office, and turned back to George once the door was safely closed. “This is not the man I had heard so much about,” he said.

The director shook his head and sat down, seemingly defeated. “No. He is not the man I remember from last year. Grant used to call him ‘an eminent scientist, an honourable man’, and he was exactly those things. But now?”

“As I understand it, when he was last here Stone was under arrest on suspicion of treason.”

“Yes. Curious, isn’t it? A man once accused of treason is now working for the very men who had accused him.” George sighed. “I wonder what has happened in the last year to change things so drastically? I suppose we will never know.” He sat forward, fingering the pipe on his desk. “I wonder what those men hold over Stone?”

Kaplan considered this. He had only spent a limited time with the professor, and so far he had given Kaplan little reason to doubt his intelligence or focus on whatever his mission was, and in that time Stone had not acted in a way that would suggest he was weighed down by the pressures of other men. Indeed, he seemed to be very much at peace with himself and what he was doing. “Perhaps you are reading this all wrong, Director? Maybe it’s Stone who has something over them.”

It was clear that George had not considered this. “Then perhaps it is us who ought to tread carefully,” he said, looking down.

5.

ALONE, NATHANIEL RETIRED TO a quiet drawing room in Otterbein Base, a place the scientists and miners used to relax during the precious downtime allowed to them. He brought with him all the papers and journals he could carry and placed them down on a table before him and set about reading.

It was of little surprise that the library in Otterbein Base consisted mostly of research and academic material, almost all of which pertained to the studies of Luna conducted since Sir William Otterbein’s initial expedition some twenty years ago. The papers written by Brian Masterly held no interest, as most explorers cared little for the glow, and very few papers had been published by Russian scientists, least of all by Tereshkov, who was arguably the most qualified.

After an hour of perusing the papers before him, Nathaniel sat back. It was maddening. No-one seemed to want to talk about the glow—not even Grant, who published even less than Tereshkov. For seventeen months scientists had worked beneath Luna, but not one of them had been drawn to study the glow. There had to be at least one astronomer who had calculated the duration between the emanations, determined some kind of pattern.

For a while he sat, racking his brain, trying to come up with a name. He sat up quickly.

Julian Verney! Of course, who else but him?

Nathaniel needed to get a message to him. Orlondo was due to return to Luna tomorrow which meant he would be almost back on British soil by now; surely he would not mind a detour to the Savile Club? Nathaniel rushed from the drawing room to find Kaplan, wondering what else he would require from Earth to confirm his supposition.

6.

THE ROOM WAS DARK but for a small lamp, its flickering flame casting shadows on the wood panelled walls. Le Boeuf stood aside as Mortimer led the way in. “I wasn’t sure if giving him laudanum was a good idea, considering the high levels of aleksandrite he has already been given, but it was unfortunately the only way to guarantee his compliance.”

“Any unexpected side effects?” Le Boeuf had received regular reports from Madame Moonsinge and her own experiments with the alien compound, but she had never mentioned mixing it with any known analgesic.

“Only the deepest sleep I have seen.”

“Not very helpful. As I understand it, sleeping is not something he has ever had issue with. Besides which, a sleeping agent is of no use to me.”

“Agent?” Mortimer asked, as they walked further into the room, towards the source of the light.

Le Boeuf tutted. “Come now, Doctor Mortimer, have you ever known me to reveal my hand so quickly into a game?”

“No indeed. More Wren’s way than yours.”

Le Boeuf stopped. “Never mention Thaddeus in my company again. His death was unfortunate, but a result of his own weakness. A weakness that cost me greatly.”

“Willie, do forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

Le Boeuf nodded, graciously he thought. “You did, James.” He waved it away. “The past is of little interest to me now. Show me our guest.”

Mortimer did as requested. He moved forward and gently increased the flame in the lamp, and a pale figure was revealed. The man had seen better days; his cheeks were sallow, his complexion wan. There was a redness around the eyes that spoke of a great illness. His previously thick brown hair was thinning on top, grey showing. Le Boeuf could not help but smile. At other times the man would have been quite attractive, in a rugged way.

“Wake him.”

Wordlessly Mortimer removed the syringe from the side table, and stabbed the needle into the man’s chest. Seconds later he came to with a start, his deep eyes looking around wildly. The alacrity would not last—the man had been doused with so much aleksandrite it would take more than a shot of adrenalin to combat it, even though he had been making a remarkable recovery in the convalescent home in Kent. Le Boeuf would soon see that reversed.

“Doctor Fontaine,” he said, stepping forward so the Frenchman could focus on him. “It is quite the pleasure.”

Fontaine narrowed his eyes. “Qui êtes-vous?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Le Boeuf’s own voice was level, taking great delight in the look of pain his words were bringing Fontaine. “I am your new master. You are going to help me destroy Nathaniel Stone, and you are going to do it with a song in your heart and a smile on your pretty little lips.”

7.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I am?”

The first marine looked at the second. Both shrugged. “Even if we did, we can’t let you in there without express permission from both Major Larkins and Director George.”

Nathaniel regarded the two marines, both second lieutenants as seen by the single Bath star on their uniforms, who guarded the cavern entrance. “What are your names?”

“Parkhouse and Ridgway, sir,” the first marine said, seemingly not bothered by the odd question. He even offered a smile. “And we do know who you, Professor Stone. We served aboard Sovereign during its last visit to Luna.”

“Ah.” Nathaniel nodded, not sure if that was a good or bad thing. “Well, that being the case, you should also know I am here under the direct authority of Admiral Sir Richard Vesey Hamilton, and I’m sure you realise that he outranks Major Larkins.”

Parkhouse looked at Ridgway, and the latter turned to Nathaniel, his jaw set determinedly. “Of course sir, but with all due respect he isn’t here, and we have no proof of what you say. Major Larkins is our commanding officer, and we take orders from him. No-one else.”

“Hmm.” This was no good, he needed to get into the cavern beyond, but he clearly could not continue to challenge two Royal Marines; dealing with an angry Robert George was one thing, but facing the wrath of Derek Larkins was quite another. When he first returned to Luna and discovered that Larkins had taken over as military commander, Nathaniel had been pleased that the major who had previously served on Sovereign was given this assignment, due to his familiarity with Luna. Yet when they’d met, Larkins made it very clear that he still considered Nathaniel a risk. No help would be coming from him.

“Very well, as you wish. If you need authority from Larkins and George, I shall get it.”

Parkhouse saluted. “That’s all we need, Professor.”

Nathaniel nodded and turned away. He had to get inside the cavern somehow. He stopped, and a smile crossed his lips. If he could not convince them, then perhaps the Heart could. Since Grant had left Earth on Imperator the Heart had spoken to no-one, even though there were several telepathically inclined people remaining on Luna. The Heart’s communication had dried up the moment Imperator had passed the moon, as if Grant’s departure had simply cut off the signal. Other than Tereshkov, no-one had communed with Heart as much as Grant, and now that he was gone it seemed the Heart no longer wished to communicate with anyone at all.

Well, the Heart would listen to him. Nathaniel closed his eyes.

Kaskuu, he thought, concentrating on the word, replaying it over and over.

Two dull thuds sounded behind him and he turned. Parkhouse and Ridgway were both on the dusty ground, sleeping as peacefully as babes in arms. Without hesitation, Nathaniel stepped over them and entered the cavern.

For a moment he stopped at the entrance, his eyes widening at the majestic sight before him. The metal wall that was barely a small section of the Heart stretched up some forty feet, disappearing into the rocky ceiling. Mechanical apparatus was set up before the Heart, some kind of recording devices, the scientists’ attempts to record the communications between Heart and man. Maybe one day, Nathaniel considered, they would be able to record thoughts, but not today. Which was just as well.

He walked up to the Heart and placed his palms against the smooth surface. He closed his eyes, turned his head sideways, and pressed his temple against the coolness too, almost in embrace. “I am come,” he said.