A Fistful of Dust Page 11

  “Without rest and therefore mercy. You can’t have them work themselves to death.”

  “Can we not? We’ve had two expire on us.” Miller picked up a piece of rainbow-streaked shell. “Not as fancy as these stones, I grant you, but what do you think?” He turned his attention on Arnaud. “What if we put a polisher to this?”

  “I…don’t know. It may be possible to make something from the shell.”

  Annabelle glared at him. Arnaud shrugged. What could he say? One more lie from him and Miller might shoot them all here and now. The man wasn’t wrong: where there was life, there was hope.

  “So you see, Miss. The beasts are good to us dead.”

  “Let them rest. Let them rest when you do. You must take breaks.”

  “We sleep when we need to. And not many of us are too keen on sleeping here.”

  “Bad dreams?” Arnaud struggled to hide his smile. He didn’t even see the blow. His head reeled. He spat out a mouthful of blood from a split lip at about the same time as his senses cleared. The only good thing was that it had been little more than a tap. He stared at Miller and Miller stared back. This was not the time to show weakness.

  “Of course, we’re left with the question,” Miller said, “of who you people are.”

  “We told you, we are in search of one man.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t explain why you have a flyer capable of landing in low gravity.”

  “Or you! Where did your flyer come from?” Annabelle snapped.

  Miller studied her for a moment before shrugging. “Russian black market. It’s amazing what one can find for sale. Let’s say you are looking for just one man. What is he to you, and how can you afford a flyer you didn’t come by…dishonestly?” He looked from one face to another.

  “I paid for it,” Highmore declared. A bruise was forming on his temple, but he had rallied. “The black market in England goes by another name and it’s called society. If you have the money for it, you can obtain almost anything.”

  “True,” Miller admitted. “Still doesn’t answer why.”

  “The missing man is my fiancé,” Elizabeth declared, her gaze defiant.

  “So we have husband, a wife, the husband’s sister and her missing fiancé, and…you.” He looked to Arnaud.

  “Just hired help,” Highmore said.

  “And I presume men on your ship. All of which you paid for?”

  After a hesitation, Highmore nodded.

  “You can afford all that? You must be quite wealthy.”

  “I am. I can pay you a ransom…for our lives.”

  “I’m sure you could, and I’ll take it under consideration. Maybe we’ll swap you with the geologist and cast him down into the…” Miller stopped. He grinned, shook his head, then turned away as one of the other men came up to him. Heads lowered, they conversed.

  Cast them down? A pit of some kind? That didn’t sound promising.

  “Arnaud,” Annabelle whispered. “Why do you suppose these creatures are so happy to work? It’s puzzling.”

  “That it is, and if there is an answer, I am not the man who possesses it.” He stared at her wishing the thought into her head. A moment later, she nodded. If anyone could figure out what was going on it would be Nathaniel. Would they return before these men decided what to do with them? Were three men enough to constitute a rescue? Just where were the others?

  11.

  NATHANIEL LEFT FOLKARD in what appeared to be a trancelike state. He didn’t want to but decided a quick investigation of the corridor encircling the Heart was in order. If this was indeed a Heart, the cavern was much smaller than its counterpart on Luna. Here, the roof was at most twelve feet above him. The other difference was that this space smelt like an animal’s den.

  Climbing through one of the openings into the second tunnel, Nathaniel found himself in a smaller, rectangular, empty chamber. Unable to glean its function or if it even had one, he withdrew to the corridor. At intervals, he crawled through or, with care, poked his head into a selection of these chambers, but they were all so alike he soon gave up. Most were blocked off from each other. All had some form of opening linking the corridor to the space beyond but not all the openings were accessible. Some were too small to do more than peer through. He put them out of his mind for now. They weren’t what he was looking for.

  Nathaniel came to a halt at the foot of the monolith and stared. Only a small portion of it could be seen here, but it was close to the Heart. The monolith was important. It was the secret behind Phobos…

  “Professor.”

  “Hmm?” So lost was he in the studying of it, for a moment it didn’t dawn Folkard had spoken. Turning, Nathaniel blinked, only then realising how long he’d been staring at this thing. What had just happened?

  “You’re standing there pretty much mesmerised as I think I was at the wall. I believe…we need to get out of here, at least until we’ve checked on the others and formed a plan.” The captain was rubbing his hands; clearly, his skin itched again.

  “Yes.” He fell into step behind Folkard, only looking back once. Did the edifice have its own defences?

  Chapter Ten

  “In Which Arnaud Admits He Prefers to

  Live a Life That Isn’t Three Parts Dead”

  1.

  “DID YOU MANAGE to learn anything from your investigation, Professor?”

  They’d climbed in silence and were almost back at the intersection where they’d come across the three connecting tunnels. Having taken almost twice as long to make their way up as down, it was difficult to assess the passage of time.

  “I believe so. The monolith is undoubtedly some form of technology, and I might have worked out how to activate it, although to what ends, I cannot yet say. I also believe…”

  The ground trembled; a vibration felt though the soles of their feet.

  “Earthquake?” Although Folkard asked, the man’s tone suggested that the captain no more believed that than Nathaniel did.

  “Unlikely. It…” Another rumble, this time closer. Nathaniel had to cling to the wall. He had no clue as to what might be causing seismic activity. When the movement ceased, he said; “I suggest we hurry.”

  Folkard agreed and they quickened their pace. They’d not taken more than a hundred steps when they came to the entrance of the tunnel. From here they would have to turn right, and walk another two hundred feet to reach the intersection. They were about to step out when the ground heaved so violently, they barely kept to their feet. Both were staring at the mouth of the tunnel when a large claw-like protuberance gripped the edge. The claw was followed by…Nathaniel knew not what but his first thought was of a long sausage shape of golden fur. The impression lasted as the creature moved swiftly by. Then it was gone. The air and dust, disturbed by its passing, settled. Rumbles continued but they were gradually moving away, deeper into the moon.

  “How large was that thing?”

  Not expecting Folkard’s first exclamation to be one concerning size, Nathaniel took a moment to reply. “I cannot say with any great accuracy. Fifty, sixty feet?”

  “I did see it then?”

  “Of course, Captain.” Nathaniel stared at the man. Why would he think he was seeing things? “And it backs up my supposition. If the scarab-like drawing represents the Chaldrites, then it makes sense the other shapes are also life forms. The Chaldrites are not the only creatures on Phobos.”

  Folkard’s hand flashed out, grabbing him by his collar, dragging him close. The captain’s eyes were wide and wild. Nathaniel wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see Folkard’s eyes roll up into his head to show the whites only, or for flecks of foam to spit from the man’s mouth. “I’m an idiot, Stone. That’s what I’ve been sensing all along!”

  “Sensing?”

  “I thought it was minerals only, and for all I know there may be minerals here, but it’s that…creature. Even before we arrived I felt something slipping and sliding, and with it my mind. It’s tunnelling. It accounts f
or the strip-mining we’ve seen. It’s the creature’s movements I’ve been sensing.”

  “I have no cause to doubt you. The question is why.”

  Beads of sweat dewed Folkard’s forehead, but even as Nathaniel watched, the wild look faded. “Why? Yes, why?” He released Nathaniel, straightened. “Forgive me. It’s as if the last few days, I’ve been…haunted.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this. We just need time.”

  They stepped out into the intersection moving courteously.

  “Sir?”

  Folkard jerked up his weapon, lowering it when crewman Whitlock emerged from behind a rock. “Report?”

  “The rest of the team have been taken hostage, sir. I hid as they passed me in the tunnels, sir. Thought it best I advise you and not tackle them alone.”

  Arnaud? Annabelle? While Nathaniel was concerned with the fate of the rest, he couldn’t help his mind flashing to those members of the crew most important to him.

  “Alive?” Folkard asked.

  “For now, I believe so, sir.”

  As Nathaniel joined him, something moved. One of the ‘rocks’ reared up.

  “This is…” The crewman looked at the Chaldrite, frowning. “Well, I believe Miss Somerset had taken to calling him Notch. It…he was waiting for us. I…think he’s upset, sirs.”

  “Then Notch may join us. Give us your full report.”

  2.

  “I AM SURE Nathaniel and the good Captain will be fine.”

  Arnaud turned his gaze upon Annabelle, confusion written on his face. “I miss George,” she added. When she didn’t look away or blink, Arnaud sighed.

  “I sometimes think life without love is easier.”

  “Easier, maybe. Advantageous, I think not. To fear loving, one may as well be afraid of living, and I for one refuse to be a coward.”

  “I do not argue. To deny oneself love is to live only a quarter of one’s life. I would prefer to live more eloquently.” Arnaud smiled.

  After a few moments of silence, Annabelle added; “We will see Nathaniel again.” She had to believe that. For, if they could not hope to see Nathaniel again, she could not hope to a reunion with George.

  3.

  WHITLOCK DESCRIBED ANOTHER cavern, some sort of base camp that lay amidst a network of tunnels. He’d been making his way back when he heard voices and ducked into a small recess, remaining there as their people were forced by.

  “When Miss Somerset fell to her knees, they wouldn’t let anyone help her and made her get up by herself, sir. These are no gentlemen.”

  Folkard had to curb his anger.

  “Sometime later, the men returned with Doctor Fontaine, but of the others, there was no sign.”

  “You heard no screams? No one cried out?” Nathaniel asked.

  “No, sir. And the doctor seemed more annoyed than anything, though upset. Just not overly so.”

  “Then we can only guess and hope that the others remain alive, for now. Very well.” Folkard took a deep breath. “Describe the layout of their camp to me. I suggest our first priority is to rescue Fontaine.”

  4.

  THE ONLY REASON Arnaud hadn’t fought or argued when left on a camp bed with his hands tied behind his back, was he reasoned he at least knew where the others were and how to reach them. While he tried to formulate a plan, exhaustion crept up on him. He awoke to find he had either lain down or keeled over at some point. He lay with the side of the canvas bed pressing painfully into his left knee. His whole body felt stiff and sore, his left arm numb.

  Something had awoken him but he knew not what. Something at once soft in places, furry in others brushed over Arnaud’s hands.

  Jolting, he made the bed creak, and at once looked across the camp. The single guard had also fallen asleep, hat tipped over his eyes. The sensation of something pushing at his wrists, scraping Arnaud’s skin grew worse. All manner of monstrosities came to mind. Sweat broke out on his brow. If he’d not spied Folkard and Whitlock moving into the camp from an opening across the way, he might have cried out.

  “No time to explain,” Nathaniel said from behind him even as the ropes parted. Glancing back, he saw one of the Chaldrites had used its pincers to cut him free. Notch?

  Folkard approached. He tossed a rock aside. Beyond, the man in the bed lay slumped. “Sorry to brain the chap but no time for finesse. Where are our people?”

  “I’ll…take you to them.” Arnaud tried to take a few steps only to discover that he needed help. He leaned on Nathaniel as they made their way out of the cavern, moaning softly at the onset of pins and needles.

  5.

  “THEY’RE DOWN THERE, I tell you!” Arnaud gave the platform an ineffectual shake. The mechanism looked old, worn. He would have sworn it was metal gone rusty when he’d first seen it, only it didn’t feel that way to the touch. It was all locked up, a bar, chains…Folkard put out a hand to stop him from shaking it again as frustration got the better of him.

  “You are making noise, and I’m not sure I would trust it in any circumstances.”

  “It worked, though. They lowered our people down there on this.”

  Down there was over the edge of a precipice. Only a few rocky outcrops could be seen on the other side. What sufficed for light here faded into nothingness a few feet down. The view was of a gaping maw.

  “It took awhile for it to reach the base and for them to bring it back up.”

  The captain pursed his lips. “I did not brain your guard sufficiently to keep him unconscious for long. When he comes to, as far as he will know you somehow slipped your bonds. They may not make too great an effort to locate a single man whom they believe may become lost in these caves. A rescue mission, however, would be a different thing. We need to move.”

  “But…” How could they leave their people behind?

  “We will return for them, I guarantee you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “In Which Many Discover the Basis of Optimism”

  1.

  BY THE TIME Annabelle and Highmore stepped off the platform it was as witnesses to a tearful reunion.

  Elizabeth seemed locked in an embrace that would never end. Every so often, she and a man would break free of the fierce hug to look into each other’s eyes. Tears of what Annabelle presumed were joy ran freely down Elizabeth’s face; her smile was a beam in the darkness.

  A soft luminosity emanated from the walls, sufficient to see though not to dispel the gloom. The impression was of a rippling stone floor, with a jagged rock face on either side, leading in both directions into blackness.

  As Henry at last took notice of the others, Highmore stepped up. They shook hands. The British. So formal. Annabelle thought of Arnaud’s reaction if this had been Nathaniel, and smiled.

  “You came looking for me?” Henry looked from Joseph to Elizabeth and back again. “Both of you? But how… And who…?” He looked to Annabelle.

  “Permit me to make introductions, and then you can tell us how you’ve endured.” Highmore’s glance up and down Henry’s frame did not go unnoticed. The man had no shoes. The edges of his clothes were frayed. Although Annabelle had never seen him before she guessed he had lost weight…and he had that same mad gleam in his eyes that she had enough sense to dislike.

  “And what of Carstairs?” Elizabeth gasped out, clearly realising she had not enquired after the man.

  “He’s alive. Hurt, but alive. And I can show you how we’ve survived.”

  2.

  “I’VE BEEN SUCH an idiot,” Nathaniel said, echoing Folkard’s earlier words as the four men marched along, Notch scurrying at their heels. Now that there was no hope of immediately rescuing the others, and there was at least a good chance they were safe for now, Nathaniel had decided to take another look at the technology. Arnaud’s strongest desire was to rescue their comrades, and Folkard was far from convinced they would find the answers they needed at the base of the monolith.

  He looked at the captain. “When you calle
d me from my trance, it crossed my mind the edifice might have a defence mechanism.”

  “One that interferes with our emotions? That might explain at least some of our reactions.”

  “Yes, and I’m not prepared to dismiss that theory entirely, but I don’t think it’s the only possible cause.” Nathaniel flicked a glance at Whitlock who wasn’t privileged to all their knowledge. “You were the one to discover many of the secrets on Luna. You said you didn’t think there were coincidences. The Chaldrites and Drobates are depicted on the monolith and so is that other creature. The monolith has to be the font of knowledge for this place; it has to be. If we can understand it, maybe we can understand the purpose of the creatures that exist here. Maybe then we can find a way to…I don’t know, track it.”

  “And be the bait? Even if we lure it, how will we communicate? How can it help us?” Folkard’s doubt was understandable.

  They were going to think him mad. “If we cannot get to the others from above, we must tunnel through.”

  “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You wish to enlist this…creature to tunnel through to the others for you?” Arnaud was looking at them as if they were out of their minds, and that was to say nothing of Whitlock’s expression.

  “I know how it sounds.”

  “Non, I do not think you do.”

  “Yet it…feels right. Doctor Fontaine, Corporal Whitlock,” Folkard included the other man with a respectful nod. “I am aware Professor Stone has explained that on Luna I did some things I am not…proud of, but which I knew were right. I simply knew. I feel something like that is happening here, now, but to all of us. Why, I cannot say. Do any of you particularly disagree with Stone’s plan?” When neither man replied, either out of duty, politeness, or an inability to suggest anything better, Folkard said; “Stone, if we’re wrong…I don’t want you blaming yourself for the mistake. This is my decision. I’m the one responsible.”

  “Thank you for that, Captain, but it’s my cross to bear.”

  “Non.” Arnaud shook his head. “I agree with you, and the captain has taken our word. We three are all equally responsible.”