Epilogue

1.

“OFF TO KISS UP to the Irishman?”

Sophia Davis turned red. She and Jack Fenn were walking down to the docking bay.

“How dare you, Fenn. Tally’s a perfect gentleman. He’s had a word with my uncle, so it’s all above board, and we’re just friends.” She glared at him, taking him a little by surprise with her fury. “You should be thinking as how it’s not such a bad thing, having friends.”

“Be careful there. You’re starting to phrase things a little like Tally.”

Davies opened her mouth, and then closed it again, before saying through tight lips. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. What's wrong, Fenn? You used to be a good man.”

Fenn couldn’t help feeling somewhat amused and a little perplexed. He wasn’t sure how good a man he was—how did a man tell?—but if he’d been good, and now wasn’t, as she implied, what had changed?

“Nothing to concern you. I’m just outta sorts. Just…those in charge and their promises. Not always to be trusted, I tell you that.” He was pondering, though, that in this instance he was glad the prof hadn’t managed to take him off ship. His belligerence had been unwarranted anyway; Fenn knew how the chain of command worked. He’d let his frustration grow out of proportion. Now he owed Stone or the universe a little gratitude.

“Some can be trusted.”

Fenn gave her a calculating look. “That Tally's too old for you.” He’d hoped to make her blush a second time, but was disappointed.

“Not this again.”

“Maybe not for you, but him?”

Confusion marred her face. Then her expression cleared and she shook her head. “No. I disagree with you.”

“Well he's still on the wrong side and likely not to be trusted. No man should make promises he can't keep.”

“He came back.”

“But he might not have been able to.”

“He promised to try and that's exactly what it means.” A strange look came over her face. He could only think she looked mischievous. “Anyone would think you cared. Anyone would think you were jealous.”

Was he? Not wanting to be drawn into that decision or out of his dark mood, Fenn said, “Can’t believe you’re off to this thing.”

“Ah…be a sure good reason to celebrate an’ all,” Davies answered, performing a poor Irish parody. She finally managed to coax a laugh out of him though, before she saw other WRENs, waved, and ran on ahead.

Fenn followed more slowly. Someone had come up with the bright idea of naming the cutters, an event to which the captain had invited anyone not on duty. All this to boost morale. Load of nonsense but Fenn was here because Wolff had named this particular cutter. HMC Fortuna: Daughter of Jupiter apparently, though all it made Fenn think of was fortune, and they certainly had some very good fortune on Jupiter.

As more people crowded in, Fenn got pushed to the side, but he could still see Wolff who looked as bemused by all the fuss as he felt. As Theobald gave a brief speech that was piped throughout the ship, Fenn shuffled his way through for a better view. He’d talked to Davies about not trusting and yet here was one person he did trust. Call it instinct. Call it hormones. Wollf hadn’t ratted on him for not reporting her access to the engine room and he hadn’t ratted on her for entering. Fontaine claimed to not yet understand what they had seen, but Fenn was back to not trusting again, not entirely believing him. That conversation was for another day.

When it became Wollf’s turn to explain why she’d chosen the name, someone joked they should call the cutter Lucky, to which she put a hand in her pocket to pull out a card. She held up the Ace of Spades Fenn had given her.

“I carry my luck right here,” she said to a ripple of laughter, giving Fenn’s heart a jolt.

Maybe he could do with a little of that luck back, but then again, maybe he’d leave that luck just where it was. Everyone knew Kaplan was seriously ill. Fenn couldn’t bear to think of that having happened to this beautiful woman. Whatever existed between them could never amount to love, but Sophia Davies was right. A person needed friends and he’d give Wollf his trust.

2.

Friday 28th February, 1891.

IN THE MEDICAL ROOM, Marcus Kaplan stirred. The bridge between sleep and wakefulness was but a veil so thin he tumbled in the space between. Just on the brink he floated in a place of dark roiling murk, broken only by red pinpricks of pain. Every breath he took set his lungs on fire. Every swallow was like someone putting hands around his throat choking him.

These were the least of his hurts. Of the sensations he could isolate, he seemed to hang over the bed as if he had no weight. His skin felt dry and stretched. Everything felt dry, even his lips, and his fingertips when he was able to make the small movement of rubbing them together. His eyelids when he attempted to open them felt as if they might tear. Marcus couldn’t explain these feelings. He didn’t know what had happened to him, just that something had. He overheard the doctor muttering to someone else.

“Dehydration, respiratory problems too many to mention, the most severe similar to advanced Pulmonary fibrosis, which makes no sense. Heart seems strong enough. Just as well, that is. Muscle wasting. It’s like the moisture has been sucked out of him, it is.”

There were other conditions apparently that the doctor had yet to ascertain. The idea made Marcus laugh. Did it matter when there were so many of them?

Jupiter. He now had another name for the King of Planets: Destroyer of Men.

Was he truly even alive?

As if he conjured the thought, the swirling gloom slowly eased back, dispelled by a growing light. A white light. Did Heaven call to him? Or was this a delusion, or the result of some medicine the ship’s doctor pumped into him? Marcus wasn’t sure he cared but as the light approached he pulled back from it. He wasn’t done here. Whatever he’d become, it was one man’s fault.

Stone.

The professor had somehow known. He’d taken Marcus down with him instead of Fontaine. He’d played God, choosing who would die or who would live, if anyone could call this living.

I’m a walking corpse.

The thought came to him bright and clear even as the light in his mind receded and the shadows gathered.

“Lie still now, Kaplan. You’re in good hands, you are.”

It took Marcus a moment to realise someone had spoken to him; longer to verify the voice as belonging to Doctor Beverly. Marcus was hurting and more important than the pain was the need to tell someone why.

“Ssssssstt…” He couldn’t get the name out. A hand gently held him down.

“Rest, Kaplan. You’ve been asleep quite a while, but it looks as if you’re coming out of it now. You’ve a long road ahead.”

Marcus waited for the reassuring words telling him he would recover but they didn’t follow.

“We’ll be here to help you. We all will.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He had to be fit and well again. Someone had to watch Stone. Someone had to be alert enough to watch him, to stop him from hurting anyone else again. “Sssttttoonne.”

“What did you say?”

Doctor Beverly leaned over and without giving his words thought, Marcus fought to unhinge his jaw. “S-Stone…” He forced the word out. “He… This is hisss fault.”

A second later Marcus won a similar battle to open his eyes, saw Beverly’s face hovering, the man’s gaze twinkling down.

“When you’re better than you are now. Then we’ll talk.”

Better? Marcus had the sinking feeling he’d never be the man he once was again. As if Doctor Beverly read his mind, he shook his head but did nothing to stop him as Marcus struggled and dredged up every bit of energy he had to raise his arms enough to look.

Taking one look at his hands set him screaming.

Doctor Beverly called for help and a sedative, and Marcus tried to lie still, fought to form words, to tell him that he didn’t need it and had been sleeping enough, but he was too weak to fight those holding him, or his longing for oblivion.

As the drug took him over, he succumbed. Fine. He would rest for now. He would bide his time until the day someone would listen to him and he could reveal Stone as the devil he knew him to be.

3.

A FEW SECONDS PASSED before Nathaniel realised the soft murmuring was the sound of voices and that his audience had arrived. He’d been so preoccupied that he’d not noticed the time and either Arnaud had forgotten to remind him, or been as engrossed with the project as he was. At last he’d found something for which Arnaud did not mind using edwinite to power. He did wish Arnaud had alerted him to the time, though.

Even though two weeks had passed since he’d been swallowed by a draco, he’d hoped to have the opportunity to go and wash his hands just once more before the official unveiling of his find, but he accepted that temptation was a dangerous compulsion, a very human reaction but definitely ill-advised. Having had to hack his way out from inside one of the creatures, he just couldn’t shake the feeling he’d never be clean again.

Whatever he’d anticipated on his return to the ship it hadn’t been having all his needs met. Bedford at the command of the captain had wasted no time asking him what he required. The first item on his list had been a room—one large enough to contain the display and empty of everything so that he could construct a power source with a pedestal to power it. Bedford had commandeered the chart room; it was of sufficient size and close enough to the bridge so that whoever was at the helm would have ready access should the need arise.

“Are you prepared for us, Stone?” Theobald snapped out but in no mood to be hurried, Nathaniel ignored him for a couple of beats while he finished with final adjustments.

From within the central column of the re-christened uranography room, the edwinite stone that would power the Aether Cartography Projection shone out, reflecting on his hands and face. Nathaniel closed the small hatch on the power source and then rose to his feet.

“Momentarily, Captain,” he said with a subtle mocking tone.

He beckoned Arnaud over and only then did Arnaud turn to remove the dome from its protective packaging. He carried it in two hands over to the column and together they positioned it into place. The most difficult part of this task had been duplicating the housing where the item had sat, for it needed to click into place much like the tumblers of a lock. The large mechanism on Jupiter had not been what powered the system, only the key—Nathaniel was sure of that. Like a great music box, once it had been wound, it had sent the power through the projection so they could view the stars. With edwinite at his disposal, Nathaniel didn’t have to rely on something so crude, but it had required half a dozen attempts to refine the housing to get the dome to click into place.

Still, the fit was tight. He worked with Arnaud to coax the fittings into alignment, too aware of their fingers brushing as they did. He was also aware of Arnaud’s stare as they felt it give and attach. Still both men stood there a moment, Nathaniel savouring the achievement, Arnaud perhaps taking pleasure in what they could accomplish together as well as an uncommon moment of closeness. Nathaniel was feeling exultant enough to give Arnaud a smile before he stepped back. Apparently taken by surprise, Arnaud blinked at him before smiling back, his hesitation causing his fingers to hover on the pedestal for a few seconds longer. From both sides the two men looked at the new device, until one of their audience cleared his throat.

“You may have the honours, Miss Wollf.” Nathaniel cared not who switched on the power but with her interest in meteorology, he was sure Wollf would appreciate the gesture.

If she felt any surprise, her smooth expression never revealed it. Stepping over to the instrument panel, she flicked a switch, first turning off the light in the room, and then another turning the power to the column on. A soft hum filled the room and then Nathaniel could have sworn he felt the moment when the power surged through the edwinite into the crystal dome.

Light spilled out, throwing a vision of planets and stars across the ceiling and walls they had painted black to reflect the projection. Nathaniel had used the draco eye as a focussing lens to push the image outwards and this was the result. This wasn’t the first time Nathaniel, Arnaud, and Wollf had seen this, but they had refined and adjusted the instruments until they were sure they could unveil it today. No more shaky planets. The images were crisp and clear. For those in the darkened room it was like being transported out into the aether itself. A couple of people gasped. Someone muttered under his breath something Nathaniel could not catch and did not care to. The sight was just like he had witnessed down in the depths of Jupiter but where he hadn’t had the time to truly take in the details before, this time his gaze followed the path he was searching for. It took him a few minutes to orientate himself, so numerous where the Solar Systems and the planets contained within each, but really it was just a case of adjusting to all the information his mind was taking in. For there, right in the middle of the room was Planet X.

As if drawn to it, a few in the room approached. They were looking at a silvery-white planet, with areas of what could be land, patches of green and beige and others of vibrant orange-red.

“What do we know about it?” Theobald asked.

Wollf stepped forward. “From what I’ve been able to deduce we’re looking at planet with a radius at least double that of Earth’s. I believe it has a high density with a largely rocky terrain. More than that will require more study, although now that we have this working I may be able to tell you more in time.”

“You’ve told me more than I expected at this stage. Well done all.”

Theobald began to congratulate the team while Nathaniel stood aside. He didn’t want a handshake. He had what he had come for. A map to his fate.

His destination.

The ever-mysterious Planet X—Plypolyplon.

The End

Next: Blinded by Giants