A Fistful of Dust (17 page)

“As fascinating as this is, I do not see…”

“As well as amplification the cairns can affect sound, produce standing waves.”

Nathaniel wracked his brain. “The intensity of sound, both in the high and low frequencies?”

“Yes!”

“The result seeming to have no connection to the actual source of the sound.”

“
Exactement
! But even more incredible is that many believe the cairns capable of producing infrasound.”

Sounds below the range of human hearing?

Nathaniel was already nodding when Arnaud grabbed him by the arms. “Sound that cannot be heard but felt!” The geologist could barely contain his excitement.

Nathaniel ran a hand over his face, stared at the monolith. Except for the quiet hum of power, he heard no sound, but could it be producing resonances the chambers amplified in some other way? “Tell me, Arnaud, what…effects can such sounds have on humans?”

“Many. Headaches, nausea, dizziness. It can produce the sensation of flying; affect the pulse-rate. Some in the vicinity have said it felt as if sounds were coming from inside them, rather than external.”

The list explained everything. He said so.

“Yes,
mon toujours
. Whatever this thing was designed to do, it was broken. I no longer experience a feeling of dread.”

Now that Arnaud mentioned it, Nathaniel realised he, too, felt better.

“This thing was the source of all our fears, until you repaired it.”

“What fears did you have?”

Arnaud blinked at the question, reached out to place a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Only one.”

Before Nathaniel could respond to that or even think of a way to answer, Folkard moaned. He perspired, trembled.

If Folkard communed with the creature, could he explain their trapped friends, what the other men were doing to the Chaldrites? Could such a creature understand the concept of friendship or danger? Would it want to help them if it could?

Whatever Folkard was telling it, the Florenskiite reared up. The front of its mouth opened. Nathaniel was treated to one of the most ugly and frightening sights he’d ever seen: a long split padded tongue inside two rows of lower teeth, the roof of the mouth a hard ridge plate from which sprouted moving feelers ending in small hooks. The back of the mouth disappeared into a puckered opening that seemed to suck at the air even as he stared. It didn’t take science or imagination to work out how the creature ate. The feelers would hold its prey in place, the teeth would tear it open, and the tongue would flick the meat back into the throat to be sucked down.

Notch went flat to the ground, scurrying back, almost a combination of homage and retreat. Nathaniel believed he now knew how Notch had got the injury and thereby his name. The Florenskiite’s mouth was perfectly suited to breaking the Chaldrite shells open and scooping out the insides.

2.

“IS THAT AN
Earth…er…I mean moonquake?” Carstairs enquired before giving way to another rattling cough. Oddly, despite his weakened condition or maybe because of it he seemed less affected by the sudden nausea and dizziness that many of the others had experienced. They were only just recovering from that, and now the ground was shaking.

“What
is
that?” Highmore asked, as if he expected someone answer.

“I don’t know,” Annabelle said, dredging up a modicum of hope, “but I wager Professor Stone has something to do with it.”

3.

AS THE CREATURE
departed, Folkard climbed through the ring of cairns. The other two men chased after him, but once beneath the city they separated without a word. Above their heads, a city hung suspended, like a hive but more than that. Each chamber that housed a family hung like a pocket or pouch exactly like the crystal droplets from a chandelier. Unlike such an adornment, the branches were made of nothing more than the same glasslike material. The sight was at once breathtaking and incredibly fragile.

“Spit.”

“Pardon?” Nathaniel stared at the Frenchman.

“You are not looking
.
”

Turning his gaze back to the city, Nathaniel tried to see through the dazzling rays of reflected light. He concentrated on a cluster of beetles about forty feet above to which Arnaud pointed.

“Ever seen a bee make a hive?”

“’Pon my soul!” Just as bees chewed up honey to form beeswax, the beetles constructed the crystalline structures by using their mouths. Maybe not quite the
spit
Arnaud referred to, but Nathaniel understood why he’d used the word. The fools were collecting what they thought was treasure and it turned out to be a secretion made by insects.

“The flaking is possibly the substance breaking down. When it does, they repair. The find that the team is extracting is probably an old part of the city.”

“Or a subsidiary,” Nathaniel suggested. “Or an old tributary that once linked to here or was created before they built this.”

“
Oui.
Equally possible. This is the treasure they would kill us for.”

“Notch indicated another way through. A faster approach to the surface, I hope.” Nathaniel spoke but his gaze was all for the city that shimmered above, appearing as if it would fall any moment, break apart as hail or snowflakes.

“Then we best follow.” Even though Nathaniel nodded his agreement, Arnaud had to lead him away. As he took a last look back, Arnaud squeezed Nathaniel’s hand. The reality of touch broke through Nathaniel’s reluctance to leave something so beautiful behind. Something he could end up staring at it for eternity.

4.

“WE’LL BE CRUSHED!”

Although a possibility, Annabelle failed to dredge up any real fear. Only now was she beginning to understand how much the effect of Phobos had weighed. She didn’t know which of the men had shouted and she couldn’t respond because the ground vibrated so much she was in danger of biting her tongue. Still, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“I should be terrified!” Elizabeth shouted.

All Annabelle could do was nod while grinning like an idiot. Still the area truly was becoming too unstable. Taking the other woman’s hand, Annabelle pushed away from the wall, dragged Elizabeth along as she stumbled across the open space, trying to avoid tumbling rocks. Henry cried out and went down. Highmore picked him up.

“Where’s the safest spot?” Annabelle grabbed Henry’s arm.

“The overhang.” Henry pointed.

“I will manage Henry,” Annabelle said, flinging the man’s arm across her shoulders. “You two work to get Carstairs to safety.”

They obeyed, possibly more out of surprise than anything. Annabelle, and Henry followed in their wake, Annabelle trying not to laugh at the extraordinary sight they must make, staggering, a bleeding man, and a woman with a false leg pulling them off balance so that they leaned drunkenly to one side.

They’d almost made it to where Elizabeth and Highmore were now moving the other man when a sound not unlike the moon breaking apart made them turn. Common sense drove them back under the overhang so that they all crouched looking out as across the way cracks appeared. Someone yelled, “Take cover,” and they all flung themselves down just as a large quantity of stone blasted out. Blinking through the haze of dirt, Annabelle saw a pale snout amidst a furry face.

“Well, Elizabeth,” Annabelle coughed out. “I think you have your own story of derring-do to tell.”

Elizabeth began to laugh as Henry looked from one to the other and asked if they were mad.

Chapter Thirteen

“In Which There is Much Brave Daring and Many Risk a Fall”

1.

THE PASSAGES NOTCH
led them to made for easier progress, though for once, Nathaniel felt some gratitude for his height. Although in many places on Phobos that very thing had given him no option but to stoop, here, where the ceiling was a few inches above his head, his long legs and lean shape worked in his favour. In places where Whitlock and Folkard took to scrambling up on hand and knees, Nathaniel was able to make progress with few strides. He turned back often to reach for Arnaud, pulling the man up behind him, feeling a strange
frisson
to be leading Arnaud out of the depths of the moon.

When the silence began to weigh too much, Nathaniel broke it by saying; “I’ve a promise to keep, Captain. To free these Chaldrites from tyranny.”

“That we shall, Professor. I promise you I will put their freedom second only to the well-being of our group and the men we are here to rescue.”

As declarations went, the captain’s was fair. Still, it surprised Nathaniel when Folkard added; “As to the other men, we will do what we have to do. What they force us to do. There is more to discover on this moon, and I would do so without further threats. If we can incarcerate them all to the good, but our safety is paramount.”

It sounded harsh and callous yet Nathaniel agreed. When they had been climbing for what must be an hour, Whitlock stopped. At first Nathaniel believed the man paused to catch his breath, they were all quite done in, but the man gazed around concerned.

“What is it, Corporal?” Folkard asked, swallowing with apparent difficulty. Nathaniel was just thinking how he could do with a drop of water himself…or several. He tried not to focus on the discomfort.

“Begging your pardon,
sah
, but we must be close or have by-passed the level where we started.”

It took a moment for Nathaniel to work out what the corporal meant but then he realised it was simply a calculation of time versus distance travelled. Either Notch had led them false or they must come to a juncture soon. Folkard seemed to reach the same conclusion. “We’ll carry on a-ways. If nothing changes we’ll have to turn back.”

They could make that decision any time only to be moments away from escape but it was the sensible choice.

2.

INTENT ON PICKING
her way through the rubble, Annabelle at first concentrated on bracing her foot before moving her false leg into what she hoped was a secure position, before moving again. While she had long learned how to maintain her balance, she could not feel with her artificial foot so had to judge the best placement. Using her arms as well as her legs, effectively she crabbed her way over the obstacles into the tunnel beyond.

The beast had disappeared as quickly as it had come, creating another passage for its passing. Rather than follow the way it had gone, they had chosen the tunnel it had left. Only as she finished labouring over the rubble and turned to assist Elizabeth did Annabelle notice the silence. There was the drip of water, the occasional
clack
of a falling rock, their laboured breaths. No one spoke. The cavern and the tunnel they were entering had somehow taken on a more eerie tone than they’d experienced when they were trapped. It was as if everything on Phobos waited.

“We must hurry,” Annabelle said, not at all surprised when no one argued.

3.

FOLKARD HAD MADE
the decision to turn back. He’s not taken two paces when Professor Stone cried out. He turned in time to see the Nathaniel staring up as the Chaldrite passed over his head. Stone being so tall meant that the creature had brushed through his hair as it scurried across the ceiling defying gravity just as a small insect would on Earth. Once in front of the men the Chaldrite dashed down the wall and reared up in front of them to block the path.

“Out of the way!” Folkard said, not truly hoping the beetle would understand. When Notch refused to obey, and began to hiss, Folkard reached for his sidearm without thinking. Stone’s hand was suddenly on his wrist.

“Let’s not shoot the Chaldrite, Captain.”

“I didn’t intend to. Perhaps frighten it.”

“Let’s not do that either. Let’s turn back to the path.”

“What makes you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe simply that I trust Annabelle, and Annabelle trusts Notch. I don’t believe the creature is leading us astray.”

“Very well.” Folkard looked across the way wishing he had the means to blast a hole through solid rock. He was aware Stone watched his face and followed his gaze. Something was calling him…not back the way he had come, but in a straight line. “We will go just a little further.” He prayed that was all it would take. If he stopped for long or collapsed, he wasn’t sure he could get up again. He took a last look in the direction he desired to go, wishing for dynamite; as if in reply, the world began to shake.

4.

IN PRACTICE
WE
must hurry
translated to
we must limp along as fast as we can
. Henry was injured yet he was faring better than Carstairs. The only able people among them were the Highmores. Annabelle would have liked to include herself as able-bodied, but the uneven terrain defied her balance. Pain now radiated outwards from her hip as a burning sensation. She felt parched, tired, dirty. Her moment of optimism had vanished to be replaced with…not even dread, just an overwhelming desire to rest. The longing outweighed even the need to eat and drink. For a great deal of the journey, she seemed to be taking the lead. It crossed her mind to wonder if they would perish in the heart of Phobos simply owing to being lost within its catacombs. The direction twisted so often it made no sense. Some of the tunnels seemed newly formed, but many were ancient.

She found herself once again in front as the terrain began to rumble. Everyone stopped moving. The vibration petered off. She opened her mouth to speak, and the ground gave way beneath her feet.

5.

A PIERCING SCREAM
rang out as Nathaniel and the others rounded a corner into another long tunnel that branched left and right. They’d been so close and had almost turned back. There was no time to worry over the consequences of that.