A Fistful of Dust (11 page)

Seeing Nathaniel in deep thought, Arnaud said, “I would hand you a penny,
mon toujours
.”

Nathaniel smiled. “I was just contemplating mankind’s ego and the idea they consider themselves wise.”

“I suggest we accept their hospitality such as it is,” Annabelle said, having been led to an open area.

“Well put, Miss Annabelle.” Folkard settled himself on the ground. The others followed suit. A general disturbance among the beetles suggested a degree of busyness.

“I don’t see the point of this,” Highmore complained.

“We may gain information.”

“With respect, Miss
Annabelle
, we cannot even understand these creatures. What makes you think they are capable of imparting any useful intelligence?”

“It’s Miss Somerset, Mister Highmore, and what makes you think they are not?”

Highmore blinked, pulling back a little, but then carried on as if oblivious to her scolding. “The sound they make for one thing. Nothing more than a dumb insect.”

Nathaniel broke in on the discussion. “Which is not to say that it isn’t language. Animals on Earth communicate. Just because we cannot understand them… Well, surely that makes us dumb, not them.”

“Oh, come now, Professor. Even if that is true, it has its limits. Animals can no more understand us than we can them.”

“Have you never owned a dog?” Annabelle asked.

“Hounds.”

“And do they obey your commands?”

“That’s entirely different. They understand by the sound of my voice whether I am angry or pleased. They do not understand the words.”

“But what is language if not sounds at its very basis?” Arnaud could not resist the challenge in Highmore’s tone. “Humans can equally communicate by gestures as they can verbally. Even if your argument proves true, you are most put-out and it is entirely possible these creatures can hear that in your voice.”

As if to pull the conversation back in line, Nathaniel interrupted. “I’m afraid we need to discuss a few things of which the Highmores may not be privilege to, Captain, but needs must win out.” Nathaniel went on to mention the coincidences in the similarities between Phobos and Luna.

“I am convinced it is no coincidence.” Folkard looked thoughtful. “However, things are as different here as they are similar. I hate to admit it, but something here makes me feel uneasy. I cannot…pinpoint it.” He gave the other quest members each a specific stare. They each in turn nodded to say they understood. Folkard was not sensing anything like the Heart.

“What in the blazes are you talking about?” Highmore glared at them all. “Do you think me such a fool as not to realise you are discussing something without revealing all?”

“Then do not be a fool to suggest you do not understand the need for political and military secrets.”

“Captain, I assure you…”

“No, sir!” Folkard interrupted. “You can assure me nothing. You are here as our guests and at my sufferance. We have taken time to aid you both, and you have reacted badly to the effects of this place. This remains our mission and you will do as I say.”

Highmore seemed at a loss for words. He flinched when Elizabeth touched him.

She withdrew her hand but said; “I am sure the captain has his reasons for his decision, and we could not respect him if he did any less.”

Arnaud was studying a piece of the carapaces Annabelle had collected on the way. “Highly like the complexities of a mineral.”

“There’s one thing I can add to that.” Digging into his supplies, Nathaniel drew out a notebook. “These are the sketches I’ve made of what I saw on the monolith.” He searched for the right page, turned it over so the others could see. “Look familiar?”

“The beetles!” Annabelle sounded delighted.

“Yes. At first I thought they were scarabs, but…” he glanced around, “clearly.”

“Did you make out anything else?”

“There’s something here. These symbols I believe are a type of alphabet. I’ve not been able to figure much out, but this,” he tapped the page. “I believe the start of this word is Chal. Possibly, Chaldrite.”

A mad chattering began in the nearby group. Nathaniel blinked at them, while Arnaud hoped he hadn’t spoken some scandalous word that would cause the beetles to turn on them.

“I wonder…” Arnaud said. “I was just thinking. Chalcopyrite is a type of rainbow rock. The shells of these creatures definitely have that effect. Chondrite is a stony meteorite. I am just wondering over the origins of their name, if it is indeed the name of their species. The origins of language…how do we know it began on Earth? An interesting concept if a little troubling. If such suppositions have any foundation it could throw much of our history into question.”

“As fascinating as that is, Fontaine, I do not see how it helps us find Henry.” At least Highmore had calmed down.

“It does not,” Folkard interrupted. “But despite your desire to be on your way, I suggest that we seize this opportunity to rest, get some sleep if possible.”

Before anyone could argue or agree, several
Chaldrites
approached. They laid pieces of the black shells on the ground.

Nathaniel picked one up to examine. The others took time inspecting the offerings too.

“It seems they mean to feed us,” Annabelle said.

“You mean eat?” Elizabeth stared at the bowl in her lap as if it contained…exactly what it contained: long spiny legs of white shell filled with meat.

“I should be the one first to try it,
sah
.”

Everyone ignored Whitlock’s offer, although Highmore looked as if he seriously considered it.

“It looks like something that would come out of the sea.”

“Better than frog’s legs, eh, Arnaud?”

For a moment, Arnaud was very tempted to put down his dinner and size up to Highmore. Nathaniel shook his head.

“Let’s hope it tastes better than it looks.” Annabelle shrugged, and scooping out a small piece with her fingers put it into her mouth.

“Annabelle, no!” Elizabeth recoiled. “What if these things are…cannibals?”

“I do not think so,” Arnaud said. “This shell is quite different.”

“Even if that is true, we were just discussing the intelligence of beasts.”

“Will that stop you partaking of roast beef when you get home,
mademoiselle
?”

Elizabeth frowned. “When I first met you I thought that French accent of yours cute. Now it’s starting to annoy me.”

Arnaud just stared at her. Then he started to laugh. Annabelle joined in around a mouth of…what, Arnaud did not know. White mush? She saw him looking at her. “Tastes like chicken,” she said, and the next moment, they were all laughing.

Chapter Eight

“In Which the Crew Struggle to Separate Dreams,

Fears, Fantasies and Reality”

1.

THE FIRST THOUGHT
to pierce the fog in Arnaud’s brain was that Nathaniel no longer rested in the spot where he had curled up to sleep. The second, as he eased his tired, aching bones into a seated position, was that the interior of Phobos did not make for the most comfortable bed. The creatures, when they slept, had the advantage of tucking limbs in against the sides of their shells and then calmly resting within their carapace. Ahh…the advantages of being a turtle.

He’d not slept well. Strange thoughts and disturbances had shadowed his dreams, and although they now seemed fleeting, left a sense of unease. Whatever he had dreamt, they were things of nightmare.

Moving gently so as not to disturb the others, he glanced at their faces. If their expressions were a way to judge, they were not enjoying the landscapes of their slumbers any more than he had done.

He found Nathaniel on the other side of the cave, crouched in front of three creatures. His
toujours
drew in the red sand, which seemed to delight the—it took Arnaud a moment to think of the word—
Chaldrites
.

He approached Nathaniel and the Chaldrites slowly so as not to startle them and then crouched. Some sticklike figures resembled people. One even wore a top hat, the sight of which made Arnaud smile. There were two representations of men. Even as he looked, Nathaniel gestured to one group, pointed to where the others lay, touched Arnaud on the arm, then pointed at the drawing. He then gestured to the second group and spread his hands, before pointing to his eyes, then the creatures, then the drawing again.

One of the Chaldrites chittered as it rose up. It moved so abruptly that Arnaud first took its excitement for anger. He tensed and felt Nathaniel’s hand on his arm, holding him in place. Clearly, Nathaniel had made some headway understanding these beasts. The creature shifted forwards, the oval shape of its head straining. Waving antlers over the drawing, it then turned in a direction angling across the cave to one of several tunnels. Nathaniel stood pulling Arnaud with him.

“You really think they’ve seen the other party?”

“It would seem likely and we can but hope. They’ve not done anything threatening and could likely overpower us so I doubt they’re leading us into a trap of their own making. You looked tired.”

“Hmm? Oh…yes. Nathaniel, were your dreams…uneasy?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I cannot say I remember them precisely, but I know I dreamed, and I know it was unpleasant.”

“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. From what I can see the others are experiencing the same.”

“I guess we should wake them. It’s not as if they’re resting easy.”

Arnaud yawned, scratched at his chin. “Yes. And we need to be on our way. The sooner we get started, I hope the sooner we can leave. If we spend too long down here, we’ll all have beards.”

“Except for the women.”

Arnaud laughed softly. “Yes, except for the women.”

“It’s not unbecoming on you.”

Arnaud looked to Nathaniel’s face, wondering if it was a trick of the light or his imagination that made the other man’s cheeks look pink. “It wouldn’t look unbecoming on you, either,” he said, wondering whether Nathaniel would deduce his true meaning. A flicker of puzzlement flashed through the other man’s eyes, before they widened. A vague expression of pleasure softened his features. Pleasure that sat as uneasy with Nathaniel as his dreams apparently, as he also managed to look troubled.

“It hardly feels real now but our lives were very much in danger yesterday. Highmore
could
have throttled me. Any one of you might have removed your helmet and died in the vacuum of space.”

“Yes, I realise that.” Nathaniel sounded rather dismissive. “However, it feels as if our lives have been in danger so often lately that one event blends into another.”

“
Oui
, it does. And while I am, what you might call pragmatic, it does not mean I am without heartache. Some say the bad things in life are designed to remind us of the good and that we should grasp even the smallest chance of happiness while we may.”

Nathaniel didn’t answer him right away, but after a few seconds said; “You’re not…wrong.”

A small cry drew their attention. Elizabeth sat, looking dazed and bewildered, her countenance gradually changing as she came more fully awake. Her cry having disturbed Annabelle, she reached out in a tired, lazy fashion to comfort her. Folkard also moved. He kicked Highmore into wakefulness, and then made no reference to having done so. Whitlock was already awake but fortunately had his back turned to the scene and was not a witness.

“What else did you learn from the creatures?”

“I’m not…sure.” It sounded as if it pained Nathaniel to admit that. “I’m positive I learned more than I realise or understand.”

“Pray tell,” Annabelle said, having caught the tail end of the conversation.

Nathaniel hankered down as the group shared out supplies and washed a meagre breakfast down with more of their water ration.

“I believe the markings on the monolith speak of creatures that do or have inhabited Phobos, but equally they could indicate creatures from far away.”

“That’s subjective, Stone.”

Arnaud whispered. “It’s funny how Highmore calls you Stone when annoyed,
non
?”

“Actually not as subjective as you may think,” Nathaniel said, lips twitching as though he suppressed a smirk at Arnaud’s comment. “The Chaldrites are depicted on the monolith. It is reasonable to assume other things depicted there exist somewhere. What other purpose would it serve? Also, although I cannot be certain for the depictions are crude, I believe the creatures illustrated tie in with Quintana’s discovery of Drobate skulls on Phobos.”

“Drobates?” Highmore enquired.

“Just another species. Do not concern yourself. As for the Chaldrites, I have also been trying my best to communicate with them.”

“Communicate?” If Highmore noticed the deflection, shock distracted him.

“What have you learned, Professor?” Folkard asked, ignoring Highmore’s outburst. He appeared more tired than anyone did. Dark circles ringed his eyes, ironically giving him a hardened, criminal appearance.

“That we need to take that passageway over there.”

Elizabeth looked up, clearly hopeful. “Henry?”

“I am afraid, Miss Highmore, that my communication involves many hand gestures and drawing in the dust. While I can make them understand we seek others like us, it does not break down into the identification of individuals.”

Not wanting to quash the woman’s hope, Arnaud said; “They are likely to be one and the same, Miss Highmore. At the very least, they are the most likely to know what has become of your Henry.”

“Do not hope for too much, Elizabeth,” Highmore said, his scolding gaze aimed at Arnaud.

“You do not have to keep reminding me that we may find Henry dead!” Elizabeth rose, walking to another part of the cave. When Highmore moved as if to go after her, Annabelle waylaid him.

“She is safe and I am sure…going about preparations to make certain she is ready to travel. I suggest we all do the same, and then get underway.”