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.”