The Daedalus Incident Revised
Page 18
“So, Dr. Finch,” the ambassador said. “You of all people should know why I am indeed highly concerned about these recent events. Are you familiar with the importance of the two stolen substances, the va’hakla flower and the Mercurium?”
“I am to some degree, sir,” Finch responded. “Mercurium is the distilled essence of Mercury itself, and there is a case to be made that the va’hakla plant, being as rare as it is, may play a role in distilling the very essence of Venus. These essences would govern all of the humors of their respective worlds, and portions of the zodiac besides.”
“Indeed,” Franklin said. “Distilling the very essence of a world could very well increase the mystic powers of all materials from that world, which could very well be why my working failed so spectacularly. But I will also say this: having heard your story, I now believe that these essences may not be the only ones Cagliostro requires. I dare say that this madman is embarking upon a terrible working indeed. I believe that Cagliostro means to collect the essences of many more of the Known Worlds, if not all of them.”
Weatherby saw a genuine look of concern—possibly even horror—on Finch’s face, and noted that Miss Baker was similarly distressed as Franklin elaborated. “The Great Work of Alchemy, lady and gentlemen, is based upon the concept of essences. Certain materials in alchemy represent the larger occult forces at work in the universe, and by stripping away the crude matter surrounding these materials, their true essences may be obtained. The tail of a lizard, for example, is used in a regenerative elixir because the lizard can naturally re-grow said tail—the lizard has the essence of this ability within it. Thus, the alchemist, if truly gifted in the Humanis school, can refine this essence to reproduce the effect in a person. Now, think about the properties of these rare alchemical items, those that have distilled the very essence of an entire planet!”
“But to what end, sir?” Morrow asked, looking slightly perturbed. “It’s all well and good to engage in such pursuits, but we haven’t the slightest ideas as to what purpose they would be employed, do we?”
“The purposes are many, Sir William!” Franklin said. “Since the motions of the planets rule our workings to a large degree, he who has the essence of those worlds in alchemical form can, under the right circumstances, bring the divine quintessence of Creation to bear, and possibly shake the very foundations upon which the Great Work is based! Every humor and impetus in the universe would be open to him!”
“So what is his aim, then?” Morrow countered. “Does he work on behalf of a foreign power? France or Spain, perhaps? Surely such alchemical wonders would turn the balance of power throughout the Known Worlds, and it is that balance that most concerns me here, not some theoretical arcana.”
Franklin smiled, shaking his head ruefully. “I must honestly state that the danger Cagliostro presents is one not tied to politics. Whether he is in the employ of a nation or simply furthering his own ambition is immaterial. Cagliostro, I believe, has only his own agenda in mind, whether or not he has accepted the backing of a nation.”
“He has two such essences,” Weatherby said, his pique breaking down as his interest grew. “How many more does he require?”
Finch answered before Franklin could. “One for each of the Known Worlds remaining to him: Earth, the Moon, the Sun, Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter.”
“I fear he may already have at least one other,” Franklin said, a distressed look upon his face, “that of Earth.”
“How do you know this?” Morrow snapped.
“Some years ago, this Cagliostro was the student of perhaps the greatest alchemist among mankind, the one who calls himself the Count St. Germain. They traveled together for a time, and St. Germain saw promise in young Cagliostro, and took him as his apprentice. A short time later, St. Germain made his crowning discovery, the Philosopher’s Stone. Are you familiar with it?”
Everyone nodded; even Weatherby had heard of the wild tales surrounding this prized alchemical discovery. It was nothing less than the means to transmute lead into gold and, some said, the means to transmute the very soul of the alchemist into something far more sublime and, perhaps blasphemously, divine. Likewise, the tales of the famed Count St. Germain were many, though most were too fantastic to be given much in the way of proper consideration.
“The Philosopher’s Stone is many things, but most importantly, it may very well be the Earth’s planetary essence,” Franklin said. “It was a supreme accomplishment for St. Germain, perhaps the greatest working ever done by man. I had occasion to meet the Count not two years past, when he recommended a young officer to our cause on Ganymede. Yet the Count himself was in a most foul humor, and when I pressed him as to his disturbance, he confided in me that his student, this very same Cagliostro, had fallen in with a new mentor of some sort, one of mysterious origin and means. Cagliostro stole the Stone and went off with his new teacher, leaving St. Germain years of work ahead of him to replicate his discovery.”
“And so our criminal has three of these essences. How many more might he possess?” Morrow said.
“Well, the essence of the Sun is quite simple, for it is simply the light and warmth which it gives off, so we may consider that among his prizes. Now, given the thievery from my poor colleague’s library, I would venture to say that he has yet to visit Jupiter or Saturn,” Franklin said. “As to the latter, he will have an extraordinarily difficult time dealing with the Xan people upon their home world. As you know, Captain, they do not wish to truck with us except in the most limited fashion. I can count upon my fingers the number of times they have accepted a delegation from humanity, and none have even laid eyes upon them uncloaked. With their advanced engines and alchemy, he cannot take what he needs by force, either.
“So I find it highly doubtful that he would attempt to bring about a working that would envelop the Xan as well as mankind,” Franklin said. “To do so would be true madness, and Cagliostro is many things, but not a fool. Thus, I should think he will indeed make for Jupiter, and it is there that we might, with luck, find this devil. My friends, I must thank you most heartily for bringing this matter to me. I see now that your words are true and your mission quite just.”
“We appreciate that, Ambassador,” Morrow said genially. “I know such a leap of faith could not have come easily.”
Finch cleared his throat. “I dare say faith had little to do with it. Isn’t that right, Dr. Franklin?”
The ambassador gave Finch a sidelong glance and a cunning smile. “Indeed, Dr. Finch. Why did you not say anything?”
“Because trust is all too fleeting when people are at war,” Finch said. “And because we genuinely need your help.”
Morrow turned to Finch with a look of alarm on his face. “Explain yourself, Doctor.”
“I detected an unusual scent within the wine served in the ambassador’s laboratory, which is why I abstained from it,” Finch said. “A hint of earthy and minty notes, along with a touch of something floral—pennyroyal and violet, yes?” he asked Franklin.
“Well done, Dr. Finch,” Franklin said, his smile growing wider.
“As I thought. These herbs are associated with Libra, and as such can govern truth-telling, among other things,” Finch said. “The ambassador, I think, simply wanted to assure himself of our veracity.”
Franklin clapped his hands. “Exactly right! And I’ve also found that this particular admixture does wonders for the digestion as well. Sir William, you have found a most worthy alchemist indeed!”
Morrow was less impressed. “Dr. Finch, we will have words about this later,” he said ominously.
Finch merely nodded, while Weatherby glared at him with utter disdain.
At this the meal ended on a somewhat awkward note, but Franklin nonetheless offered them rooms for the night. “We may be on different sides when it comes to politics, lady and gentlemen, but there are some matters that are far beyond the conflicts of ideology and government,” he told them. “And I should hope that hospitality may be as univ
ersal as the Great Work. In any event, we must be united against Cagliostro. While he may not know we are onto an inkling of the work he intends to do, his escape from Venus has ensured he will move quickly now. So sleep well here tonight, and tomorrow we shall make for Le Havre with all due haste.”
“We, Dr. Franklin?” Morrow asked. “Surely you don’t intend to accompany us.”
“My good Captain, I must insist upon it,” Franklin replied. “There are perhaps only a handful of students of the Great Work who are adept enough to divine Cagliostro’s ultimate goal. In fact, I should say that there were three, up until poor Roger’s demise. Now there are two: St. Germain and, without undue boastfulness, myself. And only the Almighty knows where St. Germain is.”
“Ambassador, you would put yourself in the hands of His Majesty’s servants to do this?” Weatherby asked incredulously. “We are at war, after all. By rights, we should deliver you to London for your crimes against the Crown!”
Morrow winced, but Franklin merely smiled. “My dear boy, I certainly would not wish that, of course, but these are dark times indeed. I have already determined that you are men of honor, thanks to the elixir placed within your wine. So if you can vouchsafe for the suspension of the conflict among us and my return to Paris unmolested by agents of the Crown, then yes, I shall do it.”
Part of Weatherby felt chagrined, for here was someone quite ready to suspend his political leanings for a greater good. On the other hand, he forced a truth elixir upon them as well. “My apologies, sir,” he said simply.
“Not at all, Mr. Weatherby,” Franklin said, giving the younger man a clap on the shoulder. “You are a credit to the service, I have no doubt. So what say you, Captain? Shall I accompany you, or shall I be forced to make arrangements on my own? For either way, this is a matter of critical importance, and I feel most obligated to unravel it.”
Morrow shot Weatherby another hard look before responding. “I shall still have to report on this to the Admiralty, Ambassador. Your service and cooperation will be noted, as will our agreement to bring you back to France and resume the political status quo when we are done. Is this acceptable to you, sir?”
“Of course. In fact, you may relay your message through Edward if you like. I understand he’s quite adept at such communications.”
This shook Morrow visibly, albeit for the barest hint of a moment. He quickly regained his composure. “I do not understand.”
Franklin’s smile was both genial and mischievous. “Captain, I am well aware that Edward Bancroft is in the employ of King George’s servants. It’s all right. You may use him for your message.”
“But Dr. Franklin, if you know the man is a traitor to your cause, why keep him in your employ?” Weatherby asked, now even more confused as to the workings of spies and politics.
“Mr. Weatherby, I shall respond to your question with one of my own. If you knew that it was likely your enemies were spying upon you, would you rather know the identity of the spy and keep him close, or do away with his presence and risk a spy with whom you are not familiar?”
Weatherby could not help but concede the point, though he despaired at the transparency Bancroft obviously showed in his duty to England, and hoped other spies in His Majesty’s service were far more adept at concealing their allegiances.
On the other hand, as Morrow pointed out after Franklin retired for the evening, the situation must be dire indeed. “Obviously, Franklin is a passionate supporter of his cause, ill-advised as it might be,” Morrow noted. “And yet he has quickly given up an immense advantage against his enemies by revealing his knowledge of Bancroft’s activities. Whatever Cagliostro has planned, it must be quite serious for Franklin to exhibit this much concern.”
We are back aboard Daedalus as I write this, with an avowed traitor to England as our honoured guest. Mr. Plumb was successful in obtaining our orders from the Admiralty—we are to make haste for Jupiter, and attempt to track down the miscreant Cagliostro, particularly to obtain any Mercurium he may possess, along with the formulae for its production and the means by which Chance escaped directly to the Void from Venus. We may enlist help from any Royal Navy vessel we encounter as well.
I can see Earth from the gunport in the wardroom as I write. I shall miss home dearly, for although it was a pleasant surprise to visit unexpectedly, the visit was all too short. I fear it may be a long time yet before I see her again.
July 26, 2132
Shaila heard the soft beep-and-hum of the medical sensors before she even opened her eyes. In her half-conscious state, she nonetheless seized on two likely facts: one, she was back on base, in the medical berth; and two, she was going to catch hell for her jaunt in the cave.
She opened her eyes and saw Diaz looking down at her, the colonel’s face lined with worry and frustration. Right on both counts. “Ma’am,” Shaila murmured.
“Lieutenant,” Diaz said. “How you feeling?”
It was a good question. Shaila paused a moment to take stock. “Sore as hell. Chest hurts. Knee feels fucked up.”
Doug Levin entered her field of vision. “Not bad, kiddo,” the doctor said. “Bruised ribs, cracked kneecap. You missed the concussion, though.”
“That explains the dizziness,” Shaila said with a weak smile. “So much for the medical career.”
Diaz raised her eyebrows. “We’re gonna have a talk about career later, Jain. For now, you should be thankful you didn’t get your skull cracked open. That was the biggest quake yet. There’s a kilometer-long crack in the roof of that lava tube, and now there are three new ravines around it. Fucked up thing is, they’re going off in different directions nearly in a straight line.”
Shaila fought to focus. “The sensor at the wall?”
“Gone,” Diaz said. “We’ve only got two boxes left up and running in there, and all they seem to be doing is measuring increases in EM, radiation and atmospheric pressure.”
Shaila nodded. “How’d I get out?”
“Durand. Soon as the quake stopped, he was down the rope before Yuna and Greene could stop him,” Diaz said. “And I’ve had to order him back to work so he’d stop hanging around here moping after you.”
“Really?” Shaila said. “Maybe he’s not such a piker after all.”
“His heart’s in the right place, but he’s young and dumb and has problems following orders,” Diaz said. “Sound familiar?”
Shaila nodded. “A little.”
Diaz gave Levin a glance, and the doctor took the hint, busying himself elsewhere as the colonel took a seat on Shaila’s bed. “I told you I was running out of plays, Jain. Now I’ve got you disobeying direct orders not to go down into that cave.”
Shaila wanted to explain why, but the words wouldn’t come. The sense of rightness she had felt in the cave was evaporating quickly. And she was damned if she was going to talk about voices in her head with her pissed-off C.O. Or some old book, for that matter. “I know. I’m sorry. You saw the holos?”
“Yeah,” Diaz said, relenting a moment. “Crazy shit. Steve and Yuna are busy slicing the data seven ways to Sunday. But in a month or so, it won’t be our problem anymore.”
Shaila struggled to sit up. “What do you mean?”
“We packed everything off to Houston after they hauled you back here. JSC is sending a full survey team, launching tomorrow. They’ll be here in a little more than four weeks.”
This wasn’t entirely surprising, given the fact that some kind of structure was spontaneously building itself in a Martian lava tube. But it still pissed Shaila off. “Well, we’ve got four weeks to figure it out.”
“No, we don’t,” Diaz said. “That cave is hands-off from now on. The ground is too unstable to even get close. So we’ll make do with the sensors we have and let the survey team handle it when they get here. Yuna and Steve will keep at it as best they can without going back down there,” Diaz said. “You, on the other hand, will go back on duty.”
“But—”
“No buts, Ja
in,” Diaz said, standing. “You disobeyed my orders and went and got yourself laid up, and endangered Durand and the rest of your team in the process. You’re out. You can focus on getting the base spruced up for our visitors.”
A million arguments flooded into Shaila’s head, but between the previous night’s reactor scare and today’s adventure, she knew she was playing with a short deck. There were no other options but acquiescence and humility. Besides, she had the journal, and possibly the EM fields to figure out. Technically, neither was an explicit part of the investigation. “All right,” she said quietly “Sorry, ma’am.”
Diaz eyed the younger officer warily for a moment. “All right. For the record, I’m glad we got the holo, and I’ll chalk this up to young-and-dumb, meaning it’s not going on your record. But you’ve officially used up all the goodwill and rule-bending you had coming to you.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Shaila said. “Thank you.”
Diaz nodded and left, leaving Shaila to wonder just how long she’d be able to maintain a career at this rate.
An hour later, Shaila was on her feet, much to Levin’s consternation. Her knee throbbed in protest every time she tried to put much weight on it, but Martian gravity was kind to injuries, and barring a direct order, she wasn’t about to spend the rest of the evening moping around in bed. A few hops around the medical berth were enough for her to get the hang of one-legged propulsion, and she was out the door five minutes after that, Levin’s warnings about taking it easy ignored as she skip-hopped down the corridor to the Hub. There were things to look into.
Unfortunately for her, the first person she ran into was Harry. And he was not happy.
“This is how you iron things out for me?” he grumped without preliminaries. His frown lines were deeper than usual, and the bags under his eyes belied his stress levels. “You realize what we’re having to do now?”
She gave him a hard look and kept going as fast as her knee allowed. “I’ve been laid up, Harry. So no, I’ve no idea.”