A Fistful of Dust (13 page)

4.

ELIZABETH WAS MORTIFIED
, but no more so than Annabelle. The poor woman had been exhausted and was falling asleep. Annabelle should have done something about it, instead of relying on Elizabeth to keep watch at their backs. So sound asleep had Elizabeth been she hadn’t roused herself or realised anything was wrong until her brother picked her up after shaking her had failed. Even then, she’d not stirred in his arms for several paces.

Now all four of them knelt in front of the ruffians, hands tied behind their backs. The three Chaldrites had made a fuss about this, but the others seemed to be under command of the men and as far as Annabelle had ascertained, a weird argument had ensued. The din had made her long to place her hands over her ears, the noise of what had to be almost one hundred Chaldrites all chittering at once made her think of the sound of a rattlesnake amplified. Why didn’t the Chaldrites help them?

She didn’t want Notch harmed, but his confusion puzzled her. She called out telling Notch to calm down. Although he couldn’t possibly understand her words, he seemed to sense her meaning.

“So the Miss has herself a pet.” The lout who had taken to calling her
Miss
held his rifle more casually now that they were disarmed and tied. “Which one of you is hers then?”

“Who do you think, you imbecilic fool!” Highmore said before she had even finished the thought whether a ‘husband’ present right now would be a good thing or not. They might treat her a little more respectfully if they thought her husband or even an intended watched; then again, they might use the fact against them. Now that Highmore had declared himself her beloved, she wasn’t about to accuse him of lying. They wouldn’t believe her anyhow. The man with the gun didn’t take kindly to being called a fool. He brought his weapon back as if to brain Highmore with the butt. Another man reached out and stopped him.

“No need for violence. A little outspokenness is understandable. Logically, they’d be upset.”

The accent was American. Could this be…?

“Are you Franklin Miller?” Elizabeth asked, drawing unwanted attention. The man stepped forwards, braced a foot on a rock, and with elbow on knee leaned over. The wild look in his eyes was one Annabelle had begun to recognise.
Spend too much time on Phobos and this was how everyone began to look.

“Now who’s the pretty little miss who wants to know?”

“That would be my sister,” Highmore said. Clearly, he hoped laying claim to both women would help keep them safe. While Annabelle doubted it, she appreciated his willingness to try.

Now aware of her danger but showing fortitude, Elizabeth said; “Please, sir, do you know the whereabouts of Henry Barnsdale-Stevens?”

The man straightened. One of the men said; “What is this?” his accent Russian. He went into a short complaint in his native tongue.

“It’s nothing,” Miller said. “And yes, Miss, I do happen to know. Henry Barnsdale-Stevens is dead.”

5.

IMMENSE.

No matter how many times Folkard tried to find another word to explain what he was seeing, that one stood out. Although Phobos was nowhere near the size of Luna, it was large enough to contain at least one immense space in which Chaldrites lived and thrived within their own crystalline city.

Turning his head, Folkard stared first in one direction and then in another, trying to take in what he could see, but the details were so intricate they escaped him. A network, interlinking a complex system of bridges dividing and joining clusters of more solid structures balancing on supports he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Others appeared to spring out from, or adhere to, the walls. The whole thing was built out of the same substance as Highmore’s crystal.

“It’s a glass city,” Folkard whispered, and Nathaniel didn’t bother to correct him.

Where one might imagine sunlight streaming down, this city within the moon appeared to hang in reverse with light streaming up. The upper reaches were only bright because of the reflected radiance. Their meagre lantern light only reached so far and yet there was more effulgence than even the reflected illumination could provide. Leaning out to look down, Folkard managed to ascertain that the brilliance wove its way up through the base, bouncing into infinity, before a wave of vertigo gripped him. Nathaniel reached out to steady him, and Folkard took a step back, needing to look away until it passed. The sight had been so peculiar. Beetles marched along paths below, above, and to the sides, appearing to hang impossibly in mid-air.

“Look there,” Nathaniel said, and Folkard had to force his eyes open. He squinted across to where Nathaniel pointed. Something bright. Part of the monolith. “It leads down.”

As Folkard hurried over, Nathaniel said, “Isn’t it time we made our way back?”

“Yes, but there’s something I have to do first.”

6.

IF ANYONE EXPECTED
Elizabeth to fall apart, she surprised them. True, the woman’s lips trembled. Her eyes glistened. She took a deep breath. “How…did Henry die? Why?”

“It matters more to us why you’re here.” Another man from the group spoke, his accent containing a smidgen of Irish.

“What difference does it make to tell her? None of them will leave here alive.”

Although Annabelle expected that, it still came as a shock to hear the American utter it so casually.

“Stevens came here going on about some land he’d bought. Sheer nonsense, of course, but he was making his presence known and noticed a little too much in Parhoon. So I decided that as we needed funds and he seemed to have them, I might as well get good ol’ Henry to join up.”

“That’s Mister Barnsdale-Stevens to you,” Elizabeth interrupted. The American shot her a look but, possibly putting her outburst down to grief he ignored her.

“Once Henry had paid for our supplies, all that we’re likely to require for this trip and a little more besides, it was only a question of bringing him here. The poor chap was practically crying out to tag along. Reminded me of a hound I had afore. Would do whatever idiotic thing I asked of it. So, too, did Henry. He paid bills as if he was expecting to get full value, but he miscalculated. He wasn’t funding his own expedition; just ours.”

Miller stepped back. “Phobos has a rich source of wealth, and as these dumb insects are only too happy to mine for us, I say things are looking up. Of course, we’re not prepared to share this find with anyone, and Henry having seen what we were doing here we couldn’t let him go. Just as we can’t let you go.”

“What precious stones?” Fontaine asked. When the gaze of their captors fell on him, he swallowed giving them a glimpse of his anxiety, but he managed to speak calmly enough. “Forgive me, I am a geologist. I find such things fascinating.”

“Will you find things so fascinating when you’re buried many feet below?”

No one got a chance to ask what he meant. Another man spoke. A wealth of communication in several languages was exchanged. Clearly, what Henry had written was accurate. While not all the men here spoke everyone’s given language, most spoke two or more, and were therefore able to converse with each other by translation.

The last to speak was French and Arnaud clearly understood what he had said before Miller looked at him. “Our friend here thinks a geologist could come in handy, but I don’t see you being too cooperative without an incentive.”

“What incentive would you offer?” Arnaud asked. The barrel of the rifle was shoved next to his head.

“Do as we say or die.”

7.

THE CAVERN BELOW
was smaller. It sat below a rocky outcrop, the stairs leading in and under it. The configuration of a curved path led both left and right. The sight before Folkard and Nathaniel temporarily paralysed both men. Before them stood a metal wall.

When they’d finally found Doctor Grant on Luna and he had told them of the living Heart, that he could commune with it, they had all thought him mad, but they had found a cavern similar to this. They’d eventually come to believe in the presence, accepted that the glow it gave off could well be a form of communication. As the glow could be seen from beyond Luna, they had wondered whether it communicated with something else in the universe. It was feasible that it had been trying to communicate with Phobos, if another Heart existed here, although that still left the question of why. Though if not Phobos, then what else?

8.

“I DO AS YOU
say and then you’ll kill me anyway.”

“True, but you can die later and therefore live in hope or die now.”

Afraid Arnaud might say something to make the man pull the trigger, Annabelle said; “Please, Arnaud. Do as they say.”

“And what of your fate?”

“I can shoot them instead of you, one by one until you do cooperate, or I can let them follow Henry’s footsteps.”

Elizabeth looked up. “You said he was dead.”

Miller shrugged. “He may well be. If he isn’t, he’ll not survive forever.”

“Then there is hope?”

The men laughed. “If you can find hope in a fistful of dust, maybe, yes.” Miller turned back to Arnaud. “You say you’re a geologist. Tell us what we have here.” He cocked his head and two of the men lifted Arnaud to his feet, untying his hands. They pushed him so that he stumbled. Notch hissed. Annabelle had never heard one of these creatures hiss before. A few of the other creatures hissed back.

“I’d like to shoot that one,” Miller said, “only I don’t know how kindly the others will take it. But I’ll test the theory if you don’t keep it quiet.”

Annabelle wasn’t quite sure how she was meant to do that. She did the best she could, leaning against the beetle, speaking nonsensical but soothing words. Right away she felt better. It wasn’t her imagination. Proximity to the beetles calmed her, lessened the effects of the moon. It was probably the only reason these men hadn’t gone entirely mad and turned on each other.

“Take a gander.” Miller tossed Arnaud a rock, which he caught. Arnaud examined the same formation as the rock Highmore had brought on board. The creatures weren’t so much mining them, as gathering the pieces that lay in abundance on the ground, digging out pieces that lay buried.

“Without equipment…” Arnaud spread his hands as if to say he was helpless.

“Yes, yes, but you can guess.”

Arnaud stared down at the misshaped lump. “What do you think it is?”

“Raw diamonds, of course.” The men grinned at each other. Did they truly want to know what Arnaud thought or were they simply having fun, flouting their supposedly newfound wealth?

“That’s one thing it definitely isn’t.”

“No?” Miller’s voice hardened.

“
Non
.”

The Russian spoke again. Miller looked at him, listening, winced a little, seemed thoughtful and then said; “He says he’ll make your death singularly painful.”

“Arnaud, please, tell him the truth,” Annabelle said.
Tell him what he wants to hear.

“
Un moment
. It is not diamond, but that does not mean it is completely worthless. It is semi-precious rather than precious. Normally I would say not worth the effort, but in this quantity…” Again, he spread his hands.

“We’d still be wealthy men?”

“
Oui
.”

“Well, all right!” The tone changed; their grins returned.

9.

“THE SAME AND
yet…different.” Folkard kept saying that. It was beginning to get on Nathaniel’s nerves.

“Is it a living Heart, Folkard?” He repeated the question a third time.

Folkard replied, but sounded dazed. “Oh…no. That is, I sense nothing living and yet…I do.”

“Captain, you’re making no sense.”

Doctor Grant had also told them that the Heart had created the Selenites, the giant ant-like beings who worshipped the Heart as some type of god, and why not when it was their creator. If there was a similar Heart here, it was likely responsible for creation of the Chaldrites, and confirmed his suppositions.

The captain could easily deduce all this, as would the others the moment he told them…but right now it was all speculation, though logical. “Folkard?”

Folkard wandered back and forth, hands touching the wall. “Life but not. Life but not.”

10.

“SO WHAT ARE
you planning to do?” Arnaud asked. “Rape this world of its resources and move on?” For now, he was back on his knees next to his friends, hands tied behind his back.

“Basically.”

“It could take you months, years. To finance the movement of the…stones alone…”

“But that’s the good part. The extraction will be self-financing as soon as I exchange a few of these babies for cash.” Miller rolled one of the crystals in his fist.

“If you can find someone to buy them.”

“We will…eventually.”

They just might. Arnaud didn’t believe the stones held any true value, although why he couldn’t say. Call it a gut instinct. Someone would likely find them pretty and if they could be cut and polished, perhaps they were as good as finding semi-precious gems. “It’s risky. People will eventually ask questions.”

“If we peddle too many on Mars, of course they will, but if we can raise enough cash to get a bigger ship, why our plans are to take these to Earth. We might even take some of these buggers along.” Miller gestured at the beetles.

“What for?” Annabelle asked.

“Don’t like that idea, do you? They seem to make good labourers. They could be worth something for that alone.”

“Slaves?” Could Annabelle sound any more outraged? “You’ll never get away with it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we’ll keep it on the hush, keep them as a workforce for ourselves. Become real entrepreneurs.” Miller grinned.

“They’re harmless and placid. You should leave them be. You have no idea what Earth will do to them. Gravity could play a major…”