Amidst Dark Satanic Mills (Folkestone & Hand Interplanetary Steampunk Adventures Book 2)

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  “Plenty of old spacers tell stories about the planet,” Hand said. “’Course, it’s all about it being found and lost, isn’t it.”

  “Just tavern tales, all of them,” Swift asserted. “Well, most of them. Probably.” He frowned at the thought of others claiming to have found his planet. “Anyway, substitute Hephaestus with the Id Treasure of Mars, the Diamond Asteroid, or any other legendary trove of the Solar System, and the story remains the same. Just tales to trade when the night is deep and the ale is bitter.”

  Hand rapped a bony knuckle against the black-coated panel covering the crystal port. “What about the Sun? Why would it be any different here than on Mercury?”

  “Oh, yes, the Sun,” Swift said, remembering the topic. “When we approach Mercury, there are two ways of doing so. The difficult way is head directly for the planet, keeping in the shadow all the time, then coming into the Twilight Belt from Nightside.”

  “We didn’t do that,” Hand said. He glanced at Folkestone for confirmation, who nodded. “No, we didn’t.”

  “Most experienced spacers don’t because it calls for pinpoint accuracy and complex calculations,” Swift explained. “For all the advances that have been made in space navigation, most spacers still depend upon visual observation for planetary approaches.”

  “Like fliers depending on roads or rivers?” Hand suggested.

  “Yes, which is why most aetherships making an approach to Mercury will use Babbage navigation to get in the general vicinity of the planet, then dip just within Mercury’s orbit so they can turn about and make a final approach with the Sun at their backs,” Swift said. “Here, because Hephaestus almost skirts the Sun’s corona, a maneuver like that is out of the question. In reaching Hephaestus we will be getting as near the Sun as we ever want to get.”

  “So, if you don’t know where you’re going you can’t get there, is what you’re saying,” Hand said.

  Swift nodded. “Fortunately, I know, and I am the only one…”

  “Except MEDUSA,” Hand added, eyes glinting.

  Swift frowned. “Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? At any rate, if Captain Folkestone precisely follows the course I’ve plotted we shall soon find ourselves in the shadow of Hephaestus.”

  The smile Hand cast toward Folkestone was half hopeful, but tinged with portents of doom.

  “Come now, Sergeant,” Folkestone cajoled. “Have a little faith in Professor Swift’s calculations.”

  Even though the craft was thoroughly insulated from the fires of the Sun, Hand imagined he felt the nearing inferno. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.

  “After all,” Folkestone added. “How is this any different than a few other tight spots we’ve been in?”

  “We could see where we were,” Hand blurted, again wiping his face. “I’ve never been fond of space travel, but I like to see where I am, where I’m going, and what I’m likely to crash into.”

  “Ever been in a submarine, Sergeant?” Swift asked.

  Hand shook his head. “Ain’t natural.”

  “Well, I have, and navigating a aethership blind is no more difficult than guiding a submarine through the deeps,” he asserted. “Or flying an airship through a mountain range in heavy fog. Give me a map, a compass and a stopwatch and I could navigate you through the eye of a needle.”

  Hand looked unconvinced.

  “As Captain Folkestone said, have a little faith,” Swift said. “If not in me, then in mathematics.”

  “The hull temperature is dropping rapidly,” Folkestone said to Swift behind him.

  Hand clambered into the co-pilot’s chair, suppressing a smirk, barely. Even a stranger could have heard the relief in Folkestone’s voice. Despite what the Captain had said about faith, it was clear he was as uneasy about flying blind as was Hand.

  “Hephaestus is exactly where I calculated it to be, and we are entering its shadow,” Swift surmised.

  “So we can remove the shield now?” Hand asked.

  “Yes, as long as we stay in the shadow or keep at an oblique angle to the Sun,” Swift replied. “The natural tinting and refraction of the Venetian crystal should be sufficient, but I’d also suggest the use of goggles…just to be safe.”

  Hand grabbed three pairs of goggles, all with thick, dark lenses, and passed them out.

  “Faith, Professor?” Hand chided gently.

  “Coupled with mathematics and common-sense cautions,” the astronomer said. “An unbeatable combination, Sergeant.”

  Folkestone and Hand let the eye-pieces dangle loose about their necks. Swift adjusted the leather band so the lenses were tight upon his forehead, ready to pull into place at a moment’s notice. He saw Hand’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

  “As I said, Sergeant…common-sense cautions.”

  Hand chuckled. “Anything you say, Professor. Help me with the shield clamps.”

  They unclamped the shielding from forward observation ports. Hand gasped at the sight. He nervously fingered his goggles, resisting the urge to cover his eyes.

  Ahead of them was a black spot, though the brightness behind it made it seem less like a solid object than a hole in the fabric of the universe. Beyond, they saw a Sun such as they had never before seen, not even Professor Swift from his high perch on Mercury. Its swollen sphere spilled around the black planet, fiery arms writhing like serpents. The Sun was not the smooth and evenly shining disc it appeared from the other planets, but a ragged a bloated ovoid, its surface mottled and turbulent. The mysterious sunspots that had been observed ever since the invention of the telescope by the Babylonians now seemed like vast islands which drifted at the whim of igneous currents.

  The shadow cast by Hephaestus was cone-shaped and they were at the very apex of the cone. As Folkestone guided them up the center of the darkness, the dark side of the planet seemed to loom. Though the Sun did not shrink, it did start to vanish behind the planet, until all the could see of the solar disc were writhing arms and massive flares occasionally leaping from its surface.

  “Observation of surface features on Hephaestus has not been possible, even when not in transit of the Sun,” Swift said. “But it’s likely that, like Mercury, the planet is tidally locked.”

  “One side bright, one side night,” Hand murmured.

  “I am not detecting any rotation, but I’m having a devil of a time with course corrections,” Folkestone said. “We are closing in on the planet, gentlemen, but we are having to chase that shadow to stay in it.”

  “You’ve engaged manual controls?” Swift asked.

  “As soon as we entered the penumbra and the shield was taken off,” Folkestone replied. “As you said, Professor, aether navigation is still very much a visual art near planetary bodies.”

  “Yes,” Swift admitted, “but usually there are still navigation signals to home in on.”

  “Not here, I’d think,” Hand said.

  “No, they would not advertise.”

  “The reason you’re having trouble keeping in the shadow, Captain, is because Hephaestus’ orbital velocity is much greater than that of Mercury,” Swift explained. “Outward from the Sun, the orbital velocities decrease; inward, they increase significantly.”

  “Water swirling around a drain,” Hand said dreamily, swirling his finger lazily in the air as he recalled a physics course at the local Comprehensive. “And the Sun is the drain.”

  “A crude analogy, but an apt one,” Swift admitted. “According to my calculations Hephaestus orbits the Sun every twenty-one days, sixteen hours, thirteen minutes.”

  “And…” Hand prompted, grinning evilly.

  “Thirty-three seconds.”

  “Knew it,” Hand muttered.

  “Captain, I coded the orbital velocity, approach vectors and all the pertinent data into the ship’s Babbage-drive,” Swift reminded. “I assumed you would make a Babbage-assisted approach to the dark side of the planet because of the difficulties.”

  “We appreciate you
getting us this far, Professor, but I don’t think you realize how much I am fighting the controls,” Folkestone replied. “It is not just the planetary mechanics we’re up against, but the Sun as well, its gravitational eddies and the incandescent particles ejected from its surface.”

  As if to punctuate Folkestone’s explanation, the craft suddenly shuddered and bucked. For several seconds it sounded as if the hull were being raked by talons.

  “Crikey,” Hand murmured.

  “Perhaps it would be best to not re-engage the Babbage-drive at the moment,” Swift acknowledged. “It works best when conditions are stable, and, as you point out, there are many variables in play.”

  “If we’re going to die,” Hand quipped, “I’d just as soon it not be because of a buggered line of blasted machine code.”

  “Indeed.” Swift belted himself into a crew chair.

  Folkestone concentrated fully on keeping the aethership in the cone of Hephaestus’ shadow, compensating for the planet’s orbital velocity and the Sun’s sheering gravitational shifts. He did allow a faint wry grin at the reactions of his companions. Swift, despite his travels about the Solar System, had probably never really faced any dangerous situation. Folkestone was more than a little surprised at how well the academic was coping. The doubts he had harbored were replaced with admiration. He saw now he had done the right thing, giving in to the Professor.

  With Hand, there had never been any doubt. It seemed there was no limit as to how much courage and daring one small Martian could contain. No matter what the peril, Hand would always be at his side, and he at his. But there was still fear behind those fierce features. Despite all the worlds they had visited in service to the Empire, Sergeant Felix Hand was still a Son of Mars, saddled with a Martian’s natural aversion of travel and wariness about voyaging into the aether. To most Martians, Hand was an aberration, a planet-hopper serving an alien Queen. The fact that Hand overcame his phobias while retaining them, made the little Martian perhaps the bravest man Folkestone had ever known.

  “I’m going to bring us in at the center mass of the dark side of the planet,” Folkestone said to break the tension, his own as well as the others’. “I’m assuming any base would have to be somewhere in Hephaestus’ twilight zone, like on Mercury.”

  “And for the same reasons,” Swift squeaked, gulping as they encountered a gravitational eddy for which the ship’s plating could not adjust. “A temperate climate, temperature-wise at any rate.”

  “As much bloody oxygen?” Hand asked as his grip threatened to drip the arm-rests off the chair.

  “I’ve never been able to detect an atmosphere, which would…” Swift paused as he forced his lunch back into his stomach. “It would show as a bright ring.”

  “No atmosphere, huh?”

  “You have to remember that even with the largest reflector at the observatory, Hephaestus still is not much more than a coarse grain of sand,” Swift explained. “That’s why my search has been more a mathematical one than a visual one, calculating its…” He paused to breathe. “…calculating its position by its effects on other near-solar orbital objects, such as comets.”

  “That’s very interesting, Professor,” Hand commented.

  “And diverting,” Swift added.

  As they neared the disc of Hephaestus, the proximate pull of the planet overpowered the Sun’s expansive gravitational field. The craft ceased to shift and sheer, the controls became more responsive to Folkestone’s touch, and the planet’s cooling shadow did not have to be chased. What did not change, however, was the looming mass of the Sun. Even when they came fully within the benighted realm, the writhing limbs of the Sun’s corona twisted and twined through the leagues of space. Its photosphere shone around the near horizons, as if Hephaestus were the black pupil of a flaming eye.

  “Never been so close to the Sun,” Hand commented. “I can feel the heat of it even here.”

  Folkestone shook his head. “If anything, you’d feel the cold but we’re completely insulated from it all.”

  “The Captain is correct, Sergeant,” Swift agreed, seeming more composed now. “And there is no atmosphere to transmit heat.”

  “If you say so,” Hand acknowledged, but he looked doubtful.

  “I’m going to set us down in that crater,” Folkestone said.

  “Aren’t we going to search the twilight area?” Swift asked.

  “Not directly,” Folkestone replied.

  “We want to find them, not have them notice us,” Hand added.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Swift mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Folkestone used the impulse jets to maneuver the aethership among black peaks, then repulsors to softly upon the darkling plain. Even before they touched down, though, Swift was out of his seat and at the observation port.

  “Good Lord,” the astronomer breathed.

  “Still glad you came along, Professor?” Folkestone asked. “Even after such a bumpy ride?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely,” he replied, not taking his gaze from the rugged, frosty vista. “It was all worth it, and that includes no matter what happens next.”

  “Well, what happens next is we find out if MEDUSA is here,” Hand interjected. “That will be the most dangerous thing.”

  Swift shook his head. “It does not matter. I would not trade this for anything. My greatest hope was to have my way in naming this planet, but now…I’m here! Never in my wildest dreams…my aspirations…” He turned to his companions, and never had they seen such exultant joy upon a man’s face. “At this moment I don’t care whether the BAS decides Hephaestus or Vulcan.”

  Folkestone and Hand looked at each other in disbelief.

  “Of course, I still want Hephaestus,” Swift added quickly. “But if they were to ask me now, I might say I don’t care which.”

  “Good thing it’s just us here,” Hand muttered.

  “Down to business,” Folkestone said. “As you indicated, Hand, we cannot just cruise around the temperate zone. As we saw in the Asteroid Belt, they enjoy secrecy and will take extreme measures to ensure they remain hidden.”

  “Signal detection?” Hand suggested.

  Folkestone nodded. “That might be our best option. There has to be communication of some sort, a vast organization such as they have going. Aether waves, perhaps even electromagnetic signals thought the Sun would play hobb with that.”

  “I know you brought me along only for navigation…”

  “You are part of this expedition, Professor,” Folkestone said. “If you have a suggestion, please share it.”

  “The purpose of the base here would be gathering and directing the unknown energies…”

  “As far as we can tell.”

  “And that ties in with the discharges I detected that were so puzzling until I talked to you,” Swift continued. “With their loss of Pandora, the base here, if it exists, would not only have to generate the energy, as before, but test it, either in the vicinity of Hephaestus or elsewhere. Either way…”

  “Yes, I see what you are getting at, Professor,” Folkestone said. “The energy fluctuations would give us a direction if we can detect them, a suggestion of a course of action.”

  “If MEDUSA is manipulating energy waves here, you should be able to detect them with your instrumentation, just as I was able to from the observatory on Mercury,” Swift said. “The energy may be of an unknown form, but it does cause disturbances in the aether, just like any other energy wave.”

  “Hand, you concentrate on locating signals,” Folkestone said. “Professor, since it was your idea…”

  “Pleased to help.” The astronomer seated himself at the control panel next to the Martian, paused, then looked to Folkestone. “If we do locate them, how long till reinforcements arrive?”

  Sergeant Hand chuckled softly.

  “Well, I mean, you contacted the Admiralty,” Swift pointed out. “And Sergeant Hand informed Section 6, or someone.”

  “There is no fleet, ready to
come swooping to our rescue, if that’s what you are asking,” Folkestone explained. “We have an idea that MEDUSA has a base of some kind here, but no proof. Our investigation is but one of many. Section 6, the foreign intelligence arm of the British government…”

  “Ah, spies…”

  “Section 6, the police, the Royal Navy—all have arrested many agents of MEDUSA, as have intelligence services of other nations,” Folkestone continued. “Everyone thinks MEDUSA is on the run, all but quashed. On various planets and moons, native and Earth-based powers are breaking down doors and raiding strongholds. When we contacted Earth and Mars, we were told MEDUSA’s back was broken. In London alone, Scotland Yard and Special Branch are rounding up bad hats right and left. Some think we’ll find a final few fanatics, but more likely nothing but a mare’s nest.”

  “But what we…” Swift started to say.

  “The brass hats don’t believe in your planet, much less a base,” Hand interrupted. “We’re a long shot, nothing to bet a monkey on.”

  “I fear Sergeant Hand is correct, Professor,” Folkestone agreed. “But if MEDUSA has the weapon we conjecture, all the actions by others may be the equivalent of a schoolboy kicking over an anthill. As far as our masters are concerned, MEDUSA is in a state of utter collapse. To them, it’s only a matter of time before its leaders are caught or killed. Barring a miracle, we’re on our own.”

  Swift and Hand turned to their tasks, scanning all the channels and frequencies available to them. Several times during their quest each thought he had something, but every time it turned out to be interference from the Sun. While the others worked diligently, Folkestone donned an excursion suit.

  “I am going to get a better look at the Sun’s newest child,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see something our instruments might miss.”

  “Darned cold out there, sir.”

  “Excursion suits are fully insulated.” Folkestone replied. “And the armature mechanisms should do well for an hour at least. I’ll be quite all right.”

  Hand looked doubtful, but there was nothing he could say or do to stop Folkestone from going out. He knew the capabilities of the suits, same as Folkestone, but this was not space, or a world that had ever known warmth. It was colder than the Ninth Circle, and who knew what demons might lurk in the endless dark?