The Forever Journey (10 page)

Nathaniel did not respond in kind. He merely nodded. “Of course I do. You are very important to me, Miss Somerset,” he said, and, for a moment, Annabelle felt sure she saw an unusual calculating darkness in his eyes.

She shivered.

2.

FAILING TO STIFLE
a yawn, Folkard put his latest book down, and removed his reading glasses. Needing to regain some impetus, he unbuckled himself from his seat, stood up, and stretched. This would not do, not at all! He still had at least an hour before Annabelle was to come and relieve him of duty, and here he was falling asleep.

Pull yourself together man!

He needed something further to stimulate his mind. As much as he was enjoying reading, there was only so much of it one person could do in a single shift. His allowance was spent. The visit from Doctor Fontaine, a few hours ago, had been very welcome: the two had shared an interesting discussion of the differences, and similarities, between English and French writings.

His mind wandered to the equipment; it had been a while since he last checked it. He walked towards the aetherlabe, where he noticed a purplish flash flicker across the wall behind it. Where had that come from? He whipped around to find its source.

My God!

The edge of the aether vortex. It was reacting wildly to something, crackling and casting purple hues across the blackness of space.

This could not be. They had plotted a course to circumnavigate the vortex. At best it should be a blip in the distance. He had charted the course himself. What was happening?

He sped to the orrery and checked it against the aetherlabe, his spine tingling with an icy sensation. Folkard double checked his calculations, and cursed. The readings were definitely off. He grabbed the pipe and bellowed down it. “Miss Annabelle, are you there? Annabelle, I need you in the control deck right away. Please, hurry, it is an emergency.”

3.

FOLKARD BURST THROUGH
the engine room door, almost taking it off its hinges. Fenn, who had been hidden behind a pipe, jumped back from it in alarm, standing to attention as his gaze found Folkard.

“Sir!” Fenn looked anxiously at the captain.

“We are headed straight for the vortex!” A look of confusion and fear etched itself across Fenn’s face. “I thought we made a correct course to avoid it completely?”

“We have, sir. Or that’s what I’d believed we… The aether propeller!”

Folkard raised his eyebrow. “The aether propeller?”

Fenn nodded. “Last week, it was not working properly. There was an unusual pull to it, as if something was trying to drag us off course.”

“Could it be? Is the aether vortex pulling us in with no chance of us correcting that? Fenn, we must correct this, or surely face our own peril.”

Fenn’s face whitened slightly, but he nodded in agreement.

“Man your station, Seaman!”

Fenn darted over to the main boiler, anticipating Folkard’s instruction. Folkard picked up the pipe and called for Miss Annabelle. After a few moments, she replied, audibly worried.

“We have work to do, Miss Annabelle. We need to divert course from the vortex, or I fear the worst! Fenn, vent all steam from the boiler.”

“Captain?”

“There is no other choice. It may cripple us, but if it fails, there is nothing left to do.”

4.

ARNAUD WAS IN
the middle of preparing his food when Annabelle seemed to literally fly up the gangway, her legs leaving a trail behind her. Of course, she wasn’t really flying, merely propelling herself along with the handrails that ran along the walls throughout the flyer. It was an unusual way for her to move, but Arnaud had to agree it was faster than clunking around with metallic shoes, although less graceful than the Minuet he had taught her. He barely had a moment to consider why she would be in such a rush when the captain came flying down the gangway in the opposite direction.

Arnaud did a double take. “
Quelle est cette excitation?
”

Investigation was required.

Leaving his food on the worktop, he crossed the room and made his way up the ladder to the control deck where he found Annabelle sitting with her back to him. Forgetting propriety for the moment, he just walked in. “
Bonjour
,
ma chère!
” She turned around to look at him, a determined expression on her face and a hand clutching the end of the speaking pipe.

Realising he had intruded unintentionally, he mouthed, “
j
e suis désolée,
” and quietly took the seat behind her.

“Has Fenn discovered what the problem may be?” she asked, speaking into the pipe. Annabelle shivered, waiting for a reply. She placed it to her ear, and nodded.

Arnaud watched her as she checked over the orrery. He was not very well versed in piloting an aether flyer, but even his genius was not needed to detect the danger facing them. Tension was coming off Annabelle in waves. He looked to a window, and his eyes widened in horror. In the distance, although not distant enough, was a maelstrom of dark purples, swirling and interacting with each other violently. Like giant snakes made of dust and energy, trying to consume each other.

He swallowed and turned back to Annabelle. “That is an aether vortex?”

She nodded grimly. He had heard tales of such a phenomena from Nathaniel, and the awful tale of
Peregrine
Station.

“Mon Dieu!”

“I should say! You’d think with our new propeller…” Her words trailed off as her focus returned to her instruments.

Arnaud found his attention being drawn back to the vortex. He stood, and moved closer to the window. It was mesmerising in its violence. The way it was reacting… “
Non
,” he muttered, “that surely cannot…” The plate in the lab. It, too, seemed to be reacting to something. The humming growing stronger every day they neared Mars.

“The plate?” Annabelle asked. “Your Mercurian plate?”

Arnaud shot a sideways glance at the woman. Had he voiced his thoughts? It was not unknown. But what did she know of the plate? Nathaniel must have mentioned it to her. What else had he told her? Arnaud shook his head. That did not matter right now.

“These fluctuations; could there be a link with your plate there?” she continued.

“I do not see how, but it has been reacting more lately.” He stopped, not liking the look on Annabelle’s face. “It is a regret of mine having brought it on board the flyer, but I never expected…” He could not complete his sentence. The depth of his bad judgement was too much.

The silence between them was broken by the door swinging open, and Folkard barging past Arnaud. “It would appear that the propeller governor is not going to be of any help,” he announced. “We’re still being pulled towards the vortex.”

Folkard less than politely ushered Annabelle from his chair and gripped the control levers. “Miss Somerset, continue checking the readings.” Annabelle did so and Folkard looked out to the vortex. “What the deuce? That’s…not right.”

“Captain?” Annabelle looked up from the orrery.

“Miss Somerset, you have seen an aether vortex before, correct?”

“I fear not. I was incapacitated at the time. Although the destructive capabilities of an aether vortex; that I have experienced firsthand.”

“Ah yes, of course. Well, I have navigated my share of aether vortices and that…” He pointed at the ever growing maelstrom. “
That
is not an aether vortex!”

Annabelle frowned. “Then what is it?”

This was all beyond Arnaud; though he could not deny that, vortex or not, whatever it was that they were heading to was both powerful and… What was the word? Yes! Primeval!

“
Des premiers âges!
” he said with a breath. “A rip in the luminiferous aether itself!”

Folkard glanced back at Arnaud. “Such hyperbole, Fontaine. From the professor I expect such like, but not you. However…yes, I think you may be right. I have
never
seen the like. But it certainly began as an aether vortex. Now? This is something uncharted.”

“I think I may be to blame, Captain,” Arnaud said slowly, although he wasn’t certain he could explain how. Before the captain could comment, Arnaud continued. “I, ah, must confess I brought one of the plates from Mercury on board, it is only of sentimental value to me, but I fear that it could be what has diverted us to this trouble.”

“Plates?” Folkard shook his head slowly. “One would think I’d be used to the follies my crew seems to indulge in. I assume you have something more to add?”

“Those plates are not just crystals, far from it. They are impressionable; they have to ability to contain imprints of people, and even intelligence. Even well after the events on Mercury, there is still much we do not know about them.”

“And you saw it fit to bring such a thing on aboard my ship, Fontaine?”

Chastised, Arnaud looked away. What could he possibly say to make the situation better?

“We shall deal with this later—if we survive,” Folkard said grimly.

“That plate has been
reacting
the nearer we move towards Mars, or so Arnaud says,” Annabelle pointed out. Arnaud looked at her, but she did not hold his gaze. “Whatever that is out there, it also appears to be
reacting
to something. As if…I’m not sure. But could it be that that plate and that
thing
out there are being attracted to each other, like a powerful magnet and a sheet of metal?”

Silence, save for the rattle of the flyer.

“Well, Fontaine?” Folkard barked.

Arnaud started, and swallowed. “Um… A good hypothesis, yes. One should never ignore coincidence.”

“So, we’re being attracted to that rip out there, and the propeller governor is failing to make a difference.” Folkard shook his head. “If we had known about the problems with the governor before, then perhaps, just perhaps, we could have found a way out of his. Prevented it, even.”

“But when I checked in on Nathaniel in the engine room earlier, he mentioned nothing of a fault, or poor performance.” Arnaud did not care for the suspicious look clouding Annabelle’s face as she spoke. “Could he have missed such a problem?”

The captain stroked his beard. “Fenn told me that not long after he took Nathaniel off duty the engine seemed to completely deteriorate.”

The deck fell silent.

“That there is a connection between your plate and that rip out there is almost certain, Doctor,” the captain said, “but I suspect the biggest cause of the problem has been poor communication regarding the condition of the engine room. Or rather a deliberate lack of communication.”

The implication was clear to Arnaud, and he did not like it one bit. Certainly Nathaniel had been out of sorts throughout the majority of their journey from Earth, but Arnaud could not believe his
confére
would do anything to hurt any of them.

“Stone must have failed to alert us about something,” Folkard continued, moving beyond implication and directly into accusation.

Annabelle looked to Arnaud, a deep frown darkening her handsome face. “Captain, surely you cannot believe that Nathaniel would…” She shook her head, still keeping her eyes locked on Arnaud. She was trying to tell him something, but he knew not what.

Folkard ignored her and rose to his feet. “Fontaine, come, we men must consult the professor; he’s been awfully quiet during all this. Miss Somerset will remain here and attempt to regain some control of this vessel. If such an action is possible.”

Arnaud remained behind a few moments longer, trying to figure out what Annabelle’s look had meant. She was sitting back in the pilot’s seat, her back to him once more, her attention focussed on the task ahead. Arnaud opened his mouth to ask her directly, but a bark from Folkard pulled him off the control deck.

5.

THEY FOUND NATHANIEL
sitting at his desk making an entry into his journal. He spun around at the abrupt entrance. He looked quizzically at Arnaud’s flustered expression, and narrowed his eyes when he noticed the stern countenance of Folkard.

“Is there a particular reason for your barging into the lab with such ill manners?” he asked.

“I take it you have not noticed any of the present commotion on the flyer?” Folkard glared at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel looked from Folkard to Arnaud, then back again. “I was merely writing my newest journal entry; perhaps I have immersed myself in my own musings too greatly.”

Folkard just stared for a moment and then said; “We are on a direct course with what can only be called a tear in the fabric of the aether, and we are having a hell of a difficult time amending our direction.”

“I see.”

His calm reaction did him credit, but nonetheless surprised Arnaud. They were all in danger; surely even Nathaniel realised that. Folkard continued to eye Nathaniel. The wound that had existed between them since they had first left Earth on their mission had been healed over the last few months, but now it was being torn open again.

“We were hoping you had something to share, anything odd you may have noticed,” Arnaud said in an attempt to add some salve to that wound.

“Nothing at all.” Nathaniel pursed his lips together, and shrugged. “This is all very odd.”

“Listen, Stone,” Folkard said, edging into the lab, “I’m not quite sure you are grasping the gravity of our situation. If we cannot avert our course with the rip, we will all die.” There was no reaction from Nathaniel; a strange peculiarity, considering his previous anxiety about living through a situation similar to that of
Peregrine
. Arnaud did not understand the reason for such a non-reaction, and he did not like the waves of aggression coming from Folkard.

“Now I am very sure that no one of us would want that,” the captain continued, “so can you please share with us any speculation you have of the problem?”

Nathaniel rose from his chair and placed his hands behind his back, his face now deadly serious. “Well, we must unearth this so called problem. Have you spoken with Fenn?”

Folkard rolled his eyes. “Yes, Fenn told us that he has no clue why the propeller is not propelling us anywhere! And further that you were already aware of the problem with the propeller governor. Care to comment?”