Chapter Six

1.

NATHANIEL HUNG ON INSIDE the dragon. There was no use his calling it anything else. He didn’t care to argue over whether a beast that had swallowed him whole should exist.

He had his eyes so tightly closed he couldn’t see what he clung to, but it was hard and long and he had a feeling that somehow he’d managed to slip between a gap in the creature’s teeth, one large enough for him to wrap his arms around without being bitten. He was soaked in something sticky and wet, and…arrghhh…something long and soft that could only be the creature’s tongue slid over him.

He tried to work out where the damn animal was going, and only noticed when it changed trajectory because the motion threw him in short side to side bursts that did strange things to his stomach.

He struggled against being sick, for that would mean his having to remove the mask. If he took it off, he’d likely die from the noxious fumes of Jupiter, or what accounted for the creature’s breath. Halitosis did not begin to describe the smell which somehow seemed to penetrate even his breathing apparatus. He likened it to a mix of sulphur and rotting meat.

Maybe he should let go, fall into the creature’s stomach and be done with it. If the beast headed into the upper levels and, once there, opened its mouth, he was dead anyway. Fortunately, it would happen so fast he’d likely know little of his death—this time!

Laughter bubbled up. He had the choices of a terrible but swift death in the upper atmosphere of Jupiter, a horrible one inside the stomach of a dragon, or he could remove his face mask and…he didn’t know what. Suffocating would be kind. He had no sure way to know what the creature’s breath or the internal atmosphere of Jupiter would do to him, but neither would be pleasant.

How many times could one man cheat death? Erasmus seemed to think he was on this journey for a reason—one he wasn’t even sure truly existed, but he was happy to be patient and see. Nathaniel had chosen this. Didn’t matter who had given him orders, or what series of circumstances led him to here. He’d chosen more often than not. Would he have struggled with so much had he known it would come to this?

Inside the beast, Nathaniel considered death; decided he wasn’t ready for it. The thought of his possible demise didn’t even weigh as heavily as it might have because he couldn’t get past the miracle of his still being alive, now, in the mouth of something quite extraordinary and amazing.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to dance and whoop.

All he could do in reality was hang on for the duration of the ride and see whether fate intervened.

2.

THE DOOR WAS SMALL, set into a wall between a row of pipes, essentially invisible to view. It had not a handle, but a small place to put a key. Jack Fenn had no key but he had put together the right tools. He set about opening the lock without damaging it. When Fenn noticed Arnaud looking, he said, “Ask no questions. Doesn’t take as much skill as people think to open most locks.”

“I believe you, but how did you come across this door? It really is in the most unlikely spot.”

Jack considered ratting on Katharina Wollf. She had followed another staff member here and entered engineering in pretty much the same way they were gaining entry now, with one large difference. Their reasons for doing so couldn’t be more dissimilar. Wollf had been looking for a way to ingratiate herself with some of the crew. Fenn was looking to discover more clandestine activities than a card game. He wondered at his doing so, experienced some surprise as to his level of annoyance of being left behind, but also reasoned what he discovered might be for the good of Sovereign and those on board.

Maybe there was something Wollf hadn’t revealed, although she’d denied exploring the restricted areas and Fenn was inclined to believe her. She hadn’t had time the other night—he’d seen her up top and the time between that and bumping into her left her a narrow margin. After the game he had crept out this way with her, seen her pick the lock. He was no fool—not entirely anyway. The other night might not have been her first visit, however his judgement could be impaired by attraction. Only in his dreams did he consider the possibility of a woman like Katharina liking him. Wollf’s reason for making friends was to lessen her number of enemies. Not all the men liked women on the ship, and life for a woman, particularly one of non-British descent, could be hard on this trip. Reluctantly, he’d taken the tools she’d used from her with a sorrowful, “I can’t let you do that again.” She had nodded in apparent understanding, but Jack would miss her at the game.

What would she think to know he had kept the picks? He couldn’t worry about that now. He felt the lock give and stood.

Before he opened the door, he glanced at Fontaine. “I’ve been a bit nervous to attempt this by myself, I have to admit.”

Fontaine grimaced. “Wonder if we’ll share the brig.”

Jack would have laughed, but he couldn’t risk the sound carrying. Still, he hesitated.

“Why are you waiting? The longer we stand here…” Fontaine didn’t have to continue. The longer they hesitated, the greater the risk of discovery.

“Just ’cos I’m doing this, don’t mean I have to like it.” There was more to it than that. As Fenn opened the door to a slither big enough to peer through, ascertained the way was clear, slipped in and allowed Fontaine to follow him before pulling the door shut again, he had just enough seconds in which to consider and accept that he didn’t like the idea of what they might discover, but he had to find out, no matter the consequences.

What were those in charge doing to Sovereign?

3.

“HAD ONE TOO MANY if you ask me.”

Bedford heard the comment and demanded the officer’s name, rank, and serial number. In reality he already knew them, but took some satisfaction in seeing the man snap to attention. He told him to report to him back on Sovereign at such a time when he could discuss a possible reprimand with the captain. The trouble was, he feared that the captain would privately agree with the seaman.

Tally claimed to have seen a dragon.

Taking himself off to the side, Bedford tried the SAW again. A foolhardy gesture no doubt. If Stone were alive then surely he’d try to get in touch, but he could have lost the SAW, or it might have broken. He could be lying hurt and injured.

Dead.

So much for keeping promises, and even a passing thought of Stone dead made Bedford feel guilty. He guessed that meant he wasn’t a bad man and he could be forgiven. He just wasn’t sure he would forgive himself.

The men had become strangely silent at the astonishing tale Tally had to unfold. So they wouldn’t dwell, Bedford had swiftly ordered them back to work. He’d sent a couple to check for signs of Stone, but when they returned they spoke only of the torn landscape as Tally had described. Unfortunately, that hardly counted as evidence. Without anything to track, they had no clue which way to even send a rescue team. Tally claimed the dragon had taken off in flight having swallowed the professor whole. If that were true, there was no way to pursue a creature that had flown away, and no way the professor could be alive.

Even if Tally had hallucinated, they’d found nothing to follow. Without any clues, there was little Bedford could do but continue with the main investigation. He asked Quintana for advice regarding the research team, and agreed that while Kaplan continued to collect samples, Quintana would take rubbings of the cartouches with Stevenson’s help.

All this was completed in a sort of hush as if none dared make a sound. Were they afraid they’d bring Tally’s fabled dragon down on them? Or were they scared of taking Stone’s ghost with them back to the ship?

Bedford realised he was once again trying the SAW even though the exercise seemed pointless. He just didn’t want to admit defeat.

Annabelle. How in the universe was he going to explain this to Annabelle? If he were to reveal the truth about Stone and Fontaine would that harden her heart a little towards the professor, make his loss easier to bare? Or would she turn on him, her husband, in some way be it in defence, a refusal to believe, or would she feel it wrong of Bedford to bring it up at all when the man had died?

He still didn’t know whether she had any knowledge of Stone’s depravity, could only hope that if she did, her continued association with Stone and Fontaine had been borne out of other things—the good of the mission, pity perhaps. Maybe a hope to change him, or a simple refusal to accept. He could not believe his Annabelle would ever condone such behaviour, and even for her the subject was too delicate so he hoped never to have to bring it up. He decided then that he would indeed protect Stone’s reputation even if he was in reality dead. He would let Annabelle grieve and be done with it.

That emotion at least was a normal part of being human. Fortunately, it would be over a year before he had to face her and impart such sad tidings, but Fontaine was back on the ship. In a matter of hours Bedford would have to try to explain Stone’s death. He neither relished the idea nor sympathised, but he was not looking forward to imparting such bad news so early on in the trip. Calamitous news. There was no way to know what impact the loss of Professor Stone would have on the rest of their journey, what part his loss might have on the success or failure of their mission.

The nature of the assignment meant they must take risks, and Theobald was going to love this.

He tried the SAW again, speaking calmly, wanting to shout, aware others knew what he was about. He put the thing away on his belt with a sense of embarrassment.

If Stone were able to use his SAW and was within range, he’d call in. Until he received such a signal, he had to assume Stone was dead.

Bedford suppressed his turbulent emotions and turned back to the job, only to bump into Stevenson.

“We’ve finished taking the rubbings as you requested, sir.” The man spoke politely, but his voice was low, his features pinched.

Of course; the young officer had been assigned to Professor Stone aboard Sovereign way back on that first mission to Luna, but if he had any feelings over the loss of Stone, Bedford’s place wasn’t to comfort young officers. The whole team was somewhat subdued, though loss came with the job. As long as Stevenson could function, that would have to be good enough.

“Good. I’ve another task for you both.”

They had some time left and more exploring to do.

“Aye, sir. Very good, sir.” Stevenson fell into step. “Sir?” He lowered the pitch of his voice as if imparting some secret.

“Yes, Stevenson?”

“If…I were to say that if the professor was dead I would know it, would that sound ridiculous to you, sir?”

Bedford almost took a false step. “Yes, Stevenson, it would.” He halted and looked the man in the eyes, barely able to understand what exactly the Drobates had done to Stevenson during his seven months of captivity. That they had changed him was without doubt. “I’d also have to say it doesn’t sound as mad as it might.” Bedford glanced over in the direction he had last seen the professor as he’d headed off on what might have turned out to be the last adventure of his life. “All I can tell you right now is that the professor has a day left. Should he by some miracle return, let’s see if we can find something wondrous for him to examine. Any…hunches?”

4.

NATHANIEL OPENED HIS EYES a smidge and saw that he was tucked into the side of the dragon’s mouth, soaked in saliva and sandwiched between teeth and tongue. The reason he was able to hang on was that the creature was missing a few molars.

He clutched a tooth, curled up like some crumb lodged in the reptile’s mouth. He wouldn’t have been surprised if that great tongue were to flick to one side and cast him out, but…all was still.

Nathaniel strained his senses, trying to detect movement. Nothing. No sensation of flight, of lurching back and forth, swaying, or direction. The creature once more lay motionless. Nathaniel could feel nothing but the fact of his being wet, but he could hear, and he could see.

Th-thump.

A long pause ensued before that noise repeated. Nathaniel turned his head, trying to determine from whence it came. The mouth acted like the walls of a cave, resonating the sound so that it took him some moments to realise it came from deeper inside the creature’s body.

When he realised what it was, he almost laughed. How could he be so dim as not to recognise the beast’s heartbeat?

As he’d turned his head in search of the sound, he’d swept his gaze over the soft bed of a tongue, a framework of teeth and, looking up now, he spied the ridged cavern roof of its palate.

All should have been dark, so why could he see these things?

Turning his head, Nathaniel stared into the creature’s gullet. Far in the distance, from the depths of its throat, a soft red glow illuminated the inside of the beast’s mouth. During the course of its flight he’d given some thought to how a dragon could breathe on Jupiter. If the creature could breathe fire this could be a result of methane gas generating in its stomach—a gas of which there were definitely trace amounts on Jupiter.

How, though, could fire burn inside a creature without its roasting? In the same way as the stomach lining in a human did not consume itself would be his guess. Just as well Nathaniel had not opted to be eaten, for he had a feeling he would have been baked on the way down.

As fascinating as all this speculation was, he needed to find a way out. If he moved, might the animal feel it? He had the added problem of his not knowing where the creature had come to rest, but one thing was undeniably certain—he could not stay inside this beast.

He waited. The heartbeat was slow and steady, suggestive of sleeping. Relaxing his grip, Nathaniel eased back from the crook of the teeth. His muscles, having clung on for so long, screamed in protest. He stood on the gum line trying to avoid the tongue, which had to be more sensitive. When all remained quiet, he turned his attention to the problem in front of him—a literal wall of teeth. There were gaps through which he could crawl, but he hesitated to do so. What if he was between those teeth when the dragon moved and they came crashing down? That death would likely be swifter than the other scenarios he envisioned, so what of it?

Sighing, Nathaniel chose an opening and wriggled through.

Sometime later he returned to the relatively safe harbour where he’d sat for most of his time inside the dragon. The lips had proven to be hard and immovable, a solid ridge with no areas sufficiently soft through which to squeeze.

Nathaniel sat, tired from his efforts, dismayed. Then he remembered the SAW, unable to believe he’d forgotten it, although at this distance…

He tried, but in vain. As he’d thought, the signal could not reach. He was sure it still worked, but for all he knew the structure of the dragon’s mouth or the bone itself blocked any signal from escaping or penetrating. Or he was just too far from those who could receive the message.

Until that moment he’d actually believed having survived thus far he’d find a way out of this predicament. Now his options narrowed to two. Either he’d sit here until his air ran out, or the dragon spat him from its maul. If the prospects weren’t so dire, he might even have found the situation funny.

5.

BEDFORD MOVED THROUGH THE resting men. He’d made one sweeping check before it dawned on him there wasn’t a woman among them. When he spotted Wollf, he shook his head. His orders had been for everyone to get some rest for a couple of hours, and to remain within the perimeter of the camp.

“Spare me from scientists,” he muttered as he made his way carefully through those sleeping and out into the larger part of the cavern.

“With all due respect…” Bedford begun, but he was not allowed to utter another word.

“When people say that, they usually mean what they are about to say will offend.”

Bedford recalled Stone talking to him the same way and had to accept she was right. He let the quiet moment spin out, during which Wollf continued scraping something off a rock with a small pick into a test tube. Only when she was done, did she turn her head to look at him. Her expression was one of inquiry. There was no real time for small talk and yet he was supposed to be resting so he had nothing urgent to do. He didn’t know why he chose now to try to make overtures to Wollf, but the urge to pass the time overcame him. Maybe he was missing Annabelle. As soon as the day ticked over into the next it would be Valentine’s Day.

“Your father…Leopold Wollf… I have heard he is making overtures to the Austrian Academy of Sciences to allow women into their programmes.”

Wollf nodded. “So I too have heard.”

When she seemed disinclined to take the conversation further, Bedford searched for something to add. “What do you think of Vienna?”

“I like it well enough. I would like it better if those of more social standing extended their improvements in the city to the poor.”

That was more verbose than usual, but clearly only because of a social and political agenda. Bedford didn’t know the situation in Vienna and had nothing to add.

“Is there something you require?”

Was there? He’d come over to admonish her, to tell her to rest, but he was certain he’d get no further with her than he would have in arguing with Annabelle.

“Interesting specimen?” Bedford asked. Despite his respect for women and believing them to be as capable as men, he found Wollf especially difficult to contend with. She didn’t seem to understand the meaning of conversation other than to impart direct information. While he crouched, waiting for her to say something and feeling rather as if she might scrape him into a test tube if she could find one large enough, something white in the top pocket of her uniform caught his attention. Was that a playing card?

Bedford realised he frowned when her gaze flicked down to where he was looking before returning to his face. Definitely not an area of a woman’s body he should be noticing even if he had only been looking at whatever was in her pocket. Wollf might take his perusal the wrong way. Annabelle would likely have teased him no end. Feeling suddenly hot, Bedford said, “My orders were—”

“I require little sleep, and I am not the only one…disobeying your orders.” She gestured with her head back to camp.

Unsure of her meaning, Bedford hesitated. “Don’t go any further,” he told her. “I can’t afford to…to lose another scientist.” He’d said that last while staring at the ground, glad when he was able to keep his voice steady. A glance in her direction made Bedford wish he hadn’t. Her gaze was too knowing.

Bedford stood. As he turned away Wollf reached up and tapped the playing card back down into her pocket so that it was out of view. Unsure who he was disgruntled with most, he returned to the camp looking for anyone not resting who wasn’t on watch.

He soon found them. Kaplan and Quintana presided over the rubbings. Kaplan made drawings, consulted a small notebook; they spoke quietly amongst themselves. When they weren’t speaking they were nodding and pointing. A moment passed before either man noticed him, and when one did, it was Quintana who lifted his head and stared at Bedford with a direct unapologetic expression. Really, what was the purpose of his being commander here when the research team pointedly ignored every order he gave? Would they give Theobald so much grief?

Probably.

He looked from Quintana to Kaplan and back. “Not your area of expertise, I would think.” When Quintana grinned at him, Bedford hankered down. “What have you discovered?”

“Very little and yet much, old chap.” Kaplan answered before Quintana had a chance, but the Spaniard only seemed amused, giving Kaplan a nod to continue.

“You can read these symbols?” Bedford had asked that of Stone earlier. Maybe this time the question would have an improved result.

“Hardly.” Kaplan gave him a not very respectful look.

So that would be a no to the better outcome. “You’ve seen these symbols then?”

“Only similar and only through Professor’s Stone’s research.” Kaplan tapped the pages of rubbings. “What I’m seeing here, I believe it’s a set of instructions, but I’ve only reached that conclusion from the corresponding signs that Stone found on the Phobos monolith.”

Bedford frowned. “Quintana, I thought you discovered the monolith.”

“Discovered, si. I did not have the opportunity to study in the same detail as Stone.”

“I’m not following.”

Quintana made another gesture at Kaplan.

“According to Stone’s reports the monolith extended into the depths of Phobos.”

“Where I have not had the opportunity to go.” Quintana managed to sound both sorrowful and hopeful.

“There were symbols both on the top part of the monolith and the base,” Kaplan said.

“Meaning? You said they were not the same.” Bedford was beginning to grow a dislike for scientists not providing quick explanations. Either they wished to show off or they surmised what was clear to them should be apparent to all.

“And they are not. They are of a similar order. I am sure…” Kaplan broke off. “Given time…”

“Which we do not have,” Quintana interceded.

“Given Nathaniel’s notes…”

“Which are for the most part back on the ship.”

Bedford looked from one man to the other as they took it in turn to report, wishing they would get to the point.

Kaplan shook his head. “Commander, what we require is Nathaniel Stone and about a month to decipher the code. Even then…I am unsure even the professor could do this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s as if part of it is missing. What I cannot understand is why. The tablets are not worn, they are undamaged, and there are no lost portions.”

“What then is the problem?”

“It’s as if I am looking at a jumbled puzzle. It’s as if the only chance of deciphering came from sectioning the slabs and then working out which order to read them in. That… Good grief, the possible combinations alone would maybe take a year to calculate.” Kaplan fell silent with a shrug.

Bedford let the implications wash over him. “There is no hope that these can be of any help, then?”

“Poco.” Quintana copied Kaplan’s shrug only making the situation seem more hopeless by the way he tilted his head.

That was not what Bedford wanted to hear. “You’ve collected your samples?” He anticipated Kaplan and Quintana’s nods. “So when the men are rested…” He did not have to finish for the two men looked thoughtful, and then nodded again. To their credit they were subdued although they, probably more than he, were convinced of Nathaniel Stone’s death. Nevertheless, Bedford found he was nodding back. When the rest period ended, they had no reason to stay in the area. They could scout around in the remaining time left, and then head back to the cutter and Sovereign.

“I suggest you both rest,” Bedford said, rising, leaving it to the men to decide whether they would. He was supposed to be catching a brief rest as well, but as Bedford lay down he found any prospect of sleep impossible.

He looked across. Tally was now sitting up. The Irishman wouldn’t want to go and from what Able Seaman Stevenson had said, Bedford supposed he could expect some resistance in that quarter too. Stevenson would follow orders, though. Tally was of a different ilk. He’d rather see a body first, even if the situation was hopeless.

Hopeless.

Bedford found his lips stretching in an odd twisted smile. If any man could beat those odds, it was Stone.

6.

NATHANIEL OPENED HIS EYES to darkness. It took him a moment to accept this, but when he did he turned his head in the direction where he had last seen the red glow. There was no light and, although some seconds passed for him to fully comprehend, he soon realised he’d also grown cold.

He listened, but could hear no heart beating. No soft rasps of breath. Nothing, whatsoever. Incredibly, Nathaniel had fallen asleep or blacked out and during that time the creature had stopped breathing. The heartbeat had lulled him; silence was the very thing to awake him now. The dragon was dead.

Why? What in the universe had killed it?

Even as Nathaniel puzzled over his luck, he accepted he might never know. Quite possibly the creature had been dying already and had only moved because Nathaniel had disturbed it. He spent precisely a second feeling sorry that he’d likely caused the poor dying beast pain, but admitted he was mostly sorry because that action had also resulted in his being here now. If he could change what he had done no-one was more certain than Nathaniel that he would.

Whatever had killed it, he was grateful. The angle at which he lay had changed as if the animal’s head had rolled to one side.

He stood, wincing from the pain of too much time sitting cramped.

How much air did he have left? He’d switched over to the other tank before he’d fallen asleep but he should still have enough for a few hours. As he no longer had to worry about upsetting the creature, he could do whatever was necessary to find a way out. Where should he start?

Panic made him want to rush, but he needed to give the situation some thought.

This time he was in darkness and he’d already ascertained his tools were insufficient to break through the creature’s mouth, for the lips were backed by a hard ridge plate.

Could he break through some other part of the creature? The mouth led to all sorts of soft areas in most animals. The nasal passages in a creature this size would surely accommodate a man and if they didn’t, he might be able to chip his way through. Escape was going to involve some disgusting topography and some brutal hacking and slashing.

Nathaniel allowed his stomach to roll over at the thought and then shook off the nausea. He was not going to sit in darkness waiting to die in some…feckin’ creature’s mouth that hadn’t even had the decency to eat him. Incredibly, Nathaniel realised he was smiling as he channelled Tally.

“I’m not giving up,” Nathaniel muttered, grinning. He could be as stubborn as any Irishman.

The fact that the dragon’s head had rolled over in death made some of Nathaniel’s task easier. The most difficult thing he had to do initially was to orientate his position in darkness. Walking along the line of teeth to the back of the mouth was only slightly problematic. The tongue had lulled a little, blocking the way, but he needed to climb onto it in any case. Indeed, the lump of flesh helped him reach the soft palate at the back of the throat. There, he paused.

He considered other means of access into the upper part of the skull by way of the throat but dismissed them. The likelihood of having an accident that way was too great, finding an exit through the skull safer and more direct.

Taking out the only knife he had on him—small but sharp—he sliced open the soft tissue in the roof of the mouth. Even though he tried to stand to one side, warm ichor rained down, some splashes pattering him with drops.

Deciding he might as well cut as much of the soft tissue away as he could, Nathaniel did so, inadvertently stripping it to form a length that, as he tried to crawl through, he was able to use as a rope. Granted, his hands slipped, but he was able to make slits in which to shove his fingers or a foot. With relatively little trouble, he worked his way into the nasopharynx and eustachian tube opening.

Not once could Nathaniel forget he was inside a creature’s skull, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he was crawling through a cave. Strange how one’s perspective changed. He’d bemoaned crawling through yet more caves and now here he was willing to exchange almost anything to swap this place for one. He had room to move but the space never felt as big as he needed. He fought to ignore the slimy feel of his surroundings, at once dismayed and grateful he could not see what he was touching. Darkness made the job more difficult but he might have been affected by claustrophobia if he could see the closeness of the walls. He chose to feel grateful. The only thing he could hear was his own rasping breaths, and he could still smell that strange combination of sulphur and meat, alas now with added metallic scent of blood.

At one point he became aware of his pulse racing, of a growing pain in his lungs and throat, and had to stop to check his breathing apparatus. Not an easy task in the dark, but as far as he could tell it continued to work perfectly. Only when he thought he heard a noise behind him, compelled to look back even knowing he could see nothing, did Nathaniel realise he was beginning to show signs of panic.

“That’s simply unacceptable,” he said aloud, almost jumping at the alien sound of his own muffled words.

I need to calm down.

The self-reproach helped. Nathaniel turned in the direction he’d originally been heading, reaching out and, with touch and knowledge, calculating his position inside this creature’s head. He chose a path. When he encountered flesh, he cut through it. When he came up against bone, he chipped at it or went around.

7.

AS BEDFORD MOVED OFF, Katharina went back to her work, although she spared the other man glances. He had surprised her by mentioning her father, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about her relatives. While what Bedford had said about her father helping to pave a new direction in the world for women was true, she really didn't wish to discuss the subject—the fact that her studies had been at the hands of tutors rather than the university pained her and her father equally. Mention of him filled her with longing for her entire family. Had her mother yet ceased crying? Was her father thinking of her on this grand adventure? He had to be. As excited and pleased for her as he felt, he must surely fear for her safety. What good parent wouldn’t? He would be missing her as she was missing him.

She had not met one man on board who was like her father. She missed his duel personality—the careful man who changed things gently, and the one when thwarted was likely to have a tantrum. She missed being young enough to sit in a corner of her father's study while he entertained men of learning with a cigar, a glass of brandy, and interesting debate. How had Bedford heard of him?

Sitting back on her heels, Katharina closed her eyes and took a breath. She couldn’t remember when she last felt this tired, not that she wanted any of the men present to see this. Feeling tired had nothing to do with being female; she had noted several of the men looking more weary than their exertions so far warranted. Katharina opened her eyes and glanced around. Maybe something on Jupiter prompted her fatigue. Maybe having to breathe artificial and filtered air for hours at a time was the cause. Whatever the reason she refused to appear anything but strong in front of the men. She lived in a sad world where women had to prove they were capable; more than that, they had to show strength greater than that of men in some social circles, and even then were not accepted. When she considered what she had seen of the lives of the poor in Vienna, how anyone could believe a woman had less strength was beyond her comprehension.

Being one of a team of scientists suited her. Although she was more used to her opinion being less expected, these men appeared interested in what she was saying. She had been cautious until now—convinced she must be reading the situation incorrectly, but the more time passed, the more she had come to realise at least most of the research team had no problem with women. One or two clearly did not like her inclusion—one in particular upon discovering that she had previously been employed as an assistant had instructed her to take notes for him. She had not even bothered to refuse verbally, just walked out on him. Likewise, a few required convincing—but that applied to the presence of women on Sovereign in general.

Work had distracted her, held her attention and kept her mind busy, but she was running out of specimens to collect. As she suspected he would, Bedford had gone over to Kaplan and Quintana. She had considered joining them herself. The puzzle of the cartouches at least seemed more interesting than the specimens she had so far gathered. The three men were across the way in conversation, though Kaplan and Quintana appeared to be confusing the commander.

The scene brought a smile to her face. She liked Bedford. What kind of woman would have married him? What kind of woman would Bedford have wed? She had heard of the…notorious…Annabelle Bedford. She tried to imagine what the woman was like. One who recognised a good man when she saw him, obviously.

Katharina had known the commander had noticed the playing card and not been looking at her chest, although she hadn’t been able to resist making the man blush.

Katharina took out the card now. Fenn had given it to her at the end of the session. He’d given her the entire deck, said they had plenty more, and considering she was one of the best players on Sovereign declared it only apt she have the deck she’d used to “swab the deck” with them. She didn’t understand the meaning of that expression, and they had only been playing with slips. The game had really been a way to barter chores, but if she wanted, Katharina had a whole bunch of IOUs and a number of men to do some of her duties for her. Some of them she was sure she would only have had to ask—another truth that annoyed her. She had not come all this way to look pleasing to men or to have them flatter her; her father hadn’t truly needed to warn her this would happen, though.

Not all men, and she couldn’t deny it surprised her to find that not all attentiveness was equally annoying. She turned the Ace of Spades over in her hand, perplexed to find a small smile on her lips. Surely she didn’t have a crush on Jack Fenn, though when she considered it, her reaction was not entirely surprising. He could be charming, and although he obviously liked her, he hadn’t tried to impress her. She had known how to ingratiate herself into his circle. Her reasons for doing so were somewhat ambiguous and mostly precautionary—she did not know if or when such associations might prove advantageous.

Fenn was…interesting. He had a surprising intellect in his field; an intelligence she suspected given the right encouragement could lead him to other things. He was…beneath her in a social aspect, although she wasn’t sure he entirely realised that. Some on the ship equated a female scientist as little more than a bookkeeper. Although Fenn was more intelligent than to believe that, he would have no reason to know to what level of society she attributed her accomplishments. Indeed, now that she gave it some thought, Fenn likely had no idea of why she had been assigned to Sovereign. There was no reason why someone of his rank would. Even Katharina was less interested with the details of the British-Austrian alliance than the fact that it had enabled her to travel to the stars and beyond the inner planets and to collect interesting specimens of which she had so far found few.

Katharina almost sighed. The inner core of Jupiter had so far proved disappointing, although she suspected Nathaniel Stone would not agree with her.

Her thoughts going full circle she moved to slip the card back into her pocket when it fell from her hand. She had to stretch to reach it and when she picked it up her gaze settled on something of a brighter hue than the surrounding landscape. Taking care to put the card safely away first, she reached for an appropriate tool and began to dig. The sample was fragile; despite her every attempt it crumbled away.

“Something interesting, senorita?”

She almost started at the sound of Quintana’s voice. “Possibly.” She carried on with the extraction while the portly scientist settled on to his knees. “This isn’t a mineral,” she said, a frown tightening her brow. She had already forgotten Quintana’s presence, or at least put it out of her mind, so that he again made her jump when he leaned forwards to look, almost shouldering her out of the way in his eagerness.

Being a tall woman Katharina was glad they were both kneeling. She at least met the height of many men, and was a good deal taller than Quintana. Only with Stone did she have to strain her neck to look up to his face.

“Discúlpeme. May I?”

As he was trying to peer at the sample from a slight distance through a magnifying lens and not attempting to take it from her, she allowed this. She had already identified its closest counterpart on Earth, so waited only a beat before saying, “If I’m correct this is some type of coral.”

Quintana looked at her, unable or not caring to hide his sceptical look. Either this was knowledge he lacked or he was giving her a chance to show her ecology skills.

“Do you know anything of coral?”

“Si. I know they provide food for other life, and I believe there has been speculation into the protection of the shore.”

“Yes. I believe it does. Algae has also been found to live amongst coral cells.”

“Circumstance? Coincidence?” Quintana smiled at her. “Clearly there is something more or you would not mention it?”

“I would not. If this has the properties I suppose then it makes the algae-like substance I found earlier far more interesting.”

Quintana was already struggling to his feet and making a performance of it. “I find both fascinating, but why does one make the other more so?”

“Some studies have shown one order of coral to accommodate one variety of algae. This suggests a closely connected type of interaction.”

“Hmm…So coral and algae have a unión…erm…relationship?”

“You could call it that. A relationship… Yes.” The suggestion fitted well.

“You believe the same things happen here?” Quintana had regained his feet and now bent over to brush his hands on his knees.

“Until I examine these samples I cannot tell you; however…” She stopped talking and shook her head. “The remains I have found are dead.”

“Unsurprising as by deduction coral lives in the sea.”

She could tell by his smile that Quintana was teasing her, and she knew enough of the man to believe his intent was benevolent. She returned his smile and nodded. “Si.” She replied in his language.

“Was there water once on Jupiter?” Quintana pondered the question but Katharina shook her head.

“Impossible to deduce at this stage, but I believe not. This is coral-like but may not be the same or survive the same way. This is a peculiar environment, more so than I ever thought to explore. More so than Luna, I am sure you will tell me.”

“Si si. Even more so than Phobos, although I did not examine its depths like our Professor Stone.” Quintana looked thoughtful, which for the often over-excitable man was calm indeed. “I had just thought that the loss of water would explain the death of these organisms.”

“It would, if they indeed required it. I have another possible explanation. Some research has revealed that if one dies so does the other, which suggests…”

Quintana was nodding. “They must evolve together to survive.”

“If that’s the case, then these clearly failed to and perished.”

“Not an efficient means of survival it would seem.”

“Not entirely.”

“Something else is bothering you.”

He was studying her expression closely. Katharina smoothed out her frown, recalling how her mother lectured her into keeping her face impassive so to avoid early signs of ageing. Katharina had found another use for doing so—keeping her mien inscrutable most of the time kept others guessing her intentions and her inner thoughts remained her own.

“I would have expected to find a variety of life or none. These…clearly they once existed but their advancement failed. I would not have anticipated a creature such as a…dragon.” She had no reason to doubt Tally, and she believed he believed he had seen some huge creature. He might not have understood what it was in truth, though.

“A dragon is a large evolutionary step from a piece of coral.”

“Indeed. There also appears to be nothing to sustain them.” Another reason she doubted the size of the creature Tally claimed to have seen.

“There is apparently some type of many-legged creature on Phobos upon which the Chaldrites feed.”

“I have not had the opportunity to read all the details of that, and there may well be something similar here, but unless there are life-forms we’ve yet to discover, the only way I can see for a creature the size Tally spoke of to survive is…” She broke off, a little embarrassed to mention the first topic but feeling more disturbed by the second. Quintana awaited the explanation. “I would suggest a high rate of procreation…and cannibalism.”

8.

“INFERIOR, MIDDLE, SUPERIOR…CONCHA.” Nathaniel listed what he recalled of the internal structure of the nose and shuddered at the thought. He really didn’t want to crawl out of this creature’s nose unless he had to. If he didn’t choose the nasal cavity though, where else could he go?

He’d stopped for a break, lifting a hand to his brow, wincing when his fingers slipped along his skin. There was probably as much blood…and other stuff, on his face as on his hands. He’d tied a strip torn from his shirt around his eyes long ago; since he couldn’t see anyway he reasoned he may as well protect his eyes. He didn’t want blood in them, but the fabric was now soaked and glued to his skin. Would attempting to replace it be a worthless endeavour? He didn’t have far to go. He could at least wipe his face.

He reached under his jacket and tore more fabric free from his shirt. He kept the cloth in his closed fist while he attempted to tug the strip from his eyes. The effort proved ghastly. The wetness peeled away from his skin as though he had sloughed off a part of his own flesh. For the first time Nathaniel thought he might truly vomit. He concentrated on moving the clean cloth and wiping the area around his eyes. When he blinked to open them, he could dimly make out his surroundings.

From where was the faint light coming? Was he deeper into the nose than he’d believed? He didn’t think so, although this wasn’t a human skull and he’d been stumbling about blind and guessing. The space was large enough to be one of the creature’s sinus cavities, but which? Also, although there was plenty of slime, he didn’t believe it was as wet in the interior as he would have expected, and relatively free from mucus. A wry sense of humour made him grimace. A man had to be grateful for small mercies.

As for the light… Both the sphenoid sinus and maxillary sinus were situated beneath the orbit of the eye, but that still didn’t explain why he could see.

Rising, Nathaniel stumbled to the area of most light. He at once hit his head and yelped in pain. If his cut was bleeding again he’d never know, for even without the ability to see, he could tell he wore a coat of red. Earlier thoughts about his appearance and comparing his dishevelled state to Kaplan’s blackened face back on Luna now seemed laughable.

He took more steps this time with caution, coming up against a wall of bone.

Nathaniel ran fingers over the surface, noting in spots where he could glimpse his hand better. He chose one and struck with the small hammer, which he’d somehow kept hold of when the creature swallowed him. During his horrendous crawl through the skull, he’d been surprised to find the bone structure to be quite brittle, but as he’d not had reason to chip much away, he jumped in shock as a large chunk cracked under the strike.

Could it be the animal was already showing signs of deterioration, and if so what could affect the structure of the bones in such a way? Jupiter itself?

He’d ruminate over that later if he survived. For now, Nathaniel set about hacking his way through.

While he worked he had a sense of time passing and had to take breaks to calm his pulse rate and his breathing. The physical exertion had put a strain on his body and no doubt his breathing apparatus. He didn’t need to let panic get the best of him; hysteria would only increase the problem.

“Less haste, more speed.” Good advice helped him to focus, and in a short time he had made a large enough hole to squirm through.

On the other side, the structure was far smaller and Nathaniel knew at times he’d be wriggling much like a worm underground. He’d done similar back in Dublin. He was determined he could do so now. He need only keep his nerve and he’d soon be out.

Sooner than he anticipated. Whatever reaction was occurring inside the beast, Nathaniel continued to find signs of it. The body grew fragile around him; fluids dried up. Where before he’d been sopping wet, the vital fluid dried, making his skin feel taunt and itchy. For direction, he followed the brightening light and in less time than he imagined he stood looking out at the world of Jupiter from inside back of the dragon’s eye.