Shaila was already tapping out orders on her datapad. “On it. At last count, we have 58 Billiton employees, including the eight guys that just came in, and three 20-seat transports. Oh, and we have Greene’s cameraman and producer, making sixty. That means when they leave, we’re stuck here at least another four weeks.” While Mars figures out whether it wants to tear itself apart or not, she thought.
She looked over to Stephane, who returned her gaze with a small smile and a shrug. “At least it will not be boring.”
Diaz looked down at her hands, seemingly weighing her options. To Shaila, the colonel suddenly looked very tired. “No kidding,” she said quietly. “All right. Sound the emergency evac. Let’s get ’em out of here.”
CHAPTER 18
May 4, 1779
Father,
The Void is vast—so much so that a ship could sail for months without so much as spotting another vessel. It is only with our alchemically-treated looking glasses, as well as the bright beacon lanterns we hang about the ship, that we are able to see, and be seen by, other vessels.
Yet it has been our fate to come across yet another ship in the Void as we left Callisto. Our path took us past Ganymede once more, en route toward the worlds beyond the Rocky Main, and that is where we spotted a sister ship of His Majesty’s Navy—one that very quickly moved aggressively towards us. Even Captain Morrow wondered why a fellow ship would do such a thing before remembering that Daedalus was disguised as a Ganymedean privateer!
It had seemed a perfectly good idea at the time, as these things often are. With Jones and Bonhomme Richard likely back in the Void—and the rest of the French and Ganymedeans unaware of their mission or illustrious passenger—Morrow and Plumb had thought that disguising Daedalus as a Ganny would dissuade any would-be attackers, especially as the work upon the mainsail was newly completed and not as thorough as a repair in port might be. The disguise was simple enough, requiring but two watches of painting and several hands put to sewing the Ganymedeans’ garish striped flag.
What they did not count on was encountering another English vessel so close to the routes patrolled by the Ganymedeans and their new French allies. Yet they were barely away from Callisto’s pull when a ship of His Majesty’s Navy was spotted—and given the other ship’s change of course, they were likely spotted in turn.
“Run up the white flag and our true colors as well,” Morrow ordered from the quarterdeck while still keeping his glass upon the English ship sighted off to starboard. “Have the men stand down from the guns, hands raised. It shall do us no good to be shot at by one of our own!”
As Plumb relayed the orders and a pair of men raised a white banner from the quarterdeck, Morrow turned to Weatherby. “I have need of your eyes, Mr. Weatherby. Stay on the glass and watch the other ship carefully, and relay all that you see.”
Weatherby complied, wondering why the captain would not prefer his own experienced eye; while Weatherby was widely considered to have the best sight of any man aboard, it was rare that Morrow did not train his own glass outward as well. Instead, Morrow stood right next to him on the starboard rail, looking out at the smaller Royal Navy vessel as if he could see it perfectly well.
The other vessel was a 12-gun brig—a two-masted ship half the size of Daedalus, primarily used by His Majesty’s Navy for scouting missions and planetary patrol. She was likely on the hunt for Ganymedean shipping or smugglers in the Jovian system. As the little ship moved at speed toward Daedalus, Weatherby thought it quite brave of the little ship to attempt an engagement with a full-sized frigate. Brave or foolhardy, perhaps.
Then the warning shot came.
Weatherby spotted the small plume of flame from the little brig’s foremost starboard gun. Moments later, all aboard Daedalus saw a gout of purplish fire speed altogether too close to the port side of the ship, accompanied by an incredible roar—an alchemical hull-piercing round, further enhanced with a rather spectacular and obvious noise-maker. It would have been comical had the other ship not been English.
“What is she doing?” Morrow said quietly, with obvious exasperation.
While Weatherby felt Morrow’s question was wholly rhetorical, he felt obliged to reply. “She’s turned about 20 degrees on her keel-axis, sir. About 15 degrees downward as well. I think she means to come out under us.”
“Get those guns in!” Plumb roared from the quarterdeck. “She’s one of ours, even if she don’t know it yet!”
Another puff of smoke and flame emerged from the little brig’s starboard side, and a second round—this one of pinkish flame, the mark of a fire-starter round—came uncomfortably close to the top railing of the quarterdeck itself, mere feet from where Weatherby stood with his glass. He took two steps back, nearly plowing into the captain, though even Morrow was more startled than annoyed.
“Take in sheets, bring the planesails and ruddersail in,” Morrow ordered. “Complete stop. Have then men stand down. I want no movement on deck.”
As Plumb relayed the captain’s orders, Weatherby watched the English ship grow closer and closer, as if she planned to ram the larger ship for no sane reason at all. Weatherby turned to report once more, but saw Morrow now with his glass out as well, and the other vessel was well close enough for him to see. Soon, it would be altogether much too close.
Seemingly at the last moment, the little brig dipped downward to larboard, continuing its keel-axis spin in order to sail directly under the now-dormant Daedalus, exposing the frigate’s lower hull to the brig’s guns. Even with just six guns firing, it would be enough to spread iron, wood and fiery death to all belowdecks.
“With me, Mr. Weatherby,” Morrow said calmly. Weatherby hastened to Morrow’s side as the captain walked to the quarterdeck’s aft railing. A moment later, the brig emerged beneath them, her guns pointing straight up at them from a distance of no more than 35 yards.
“Dear God,” Weatherby breathed.
“Train your glass upon the quarterdeck,” Morrow said, a bare hint of chastening in his voice. “Look for anything beyond the ordinary.”
“Aye, sir,” Weatherby replied. There was much beyond the pale in this encounter, but he did as instructed. As he watched, he could see a pair of lieutenants upon the quarterdeck, one of whom wore the braid of a post-captain—a lieutenant typically promoted to the command of smaller vessels such as these. The post-captain had his glass likewise trained on Daedalus’ quarterdeck.
Finally, as the little brig passed into the distance, Weatherby could make out a name. “She’s the Badger, sir,” he reported. “I see an officer on the quarterdeck with his glass. Likely the post-captain.” Suddenly, Weatherby saw the other officer drop his glass and smile. A minute later, as the Badger sped off into the distance, she likewise ran up a white flag.
“I wonder what he saw,” Weatherby said. “Any privateer can muster up captured uniforms.”
“A very valid point, Mr. Weatherby,” Morrow said with a smile. “But even if we had indeed been captured by the Ganymedeans, the rebels would be quite hard pressed to muster up my face, imperfect as it might be, which is why I stationed myself here as she passed. It is worth becoming known amongst your peers in the service, in those rare cases they may mistakenly wish to shoot at you.”
Weatherby nodded and saluted as Daedalus prepared to come amidships with Badger. The captain was in fine spirits, leaving Weatherby to wonder whether Morrow had something in mind for this little brig.
A half-hour later, the Daedalus welcomed the commander of the Badger aboard, a young lieutenant just a few years older than Weatherby himself, one Horatio Nelson. “A good man, this Nelson,” Morrow had told his officers prior to his arrival. “He was a mid with me aboard Carcass in ’73. He’s well connected, of course. ’Tis no small thing to go from mid to post-captain in six years. But he’s a good sailor. I imagine he might have a decent future, if he can avoid shooting his comrades out of the Void.”
Morrow and the wardroom officers met Nelson as he came aboard. Weat
herby thought he cut a dashing figure, though he seemed to possess a surety about him that wasn’t entirely appropriate. The line between confidence and hubris is often one seen after the fact by the one who crosses it, Weatherby felt.
“I had heard your ship was captured, Captain Morrow,” Nelson said after the formalities were over. “We’ve had privateers disguising themselves as English vessels for weeks now. I nearly opened fire on you!”
“You were right to be on your guard, Mr. Nelson, given our necessary ruse,” Morrow said. “She’s a smart little ship, your Badger. May I ask your orders?”
“We are to interdict enemy shipping around the Jovian moons, sir. We sail from Port Royal. We left port but a week ago.”
Morrow considered this. “Well, then, Nelson, as senior commander on the scene and duly authorized by the Admiralty, I may have new orders for you,” Morrow said. “Would you join me in my cabin? Mr. Weatherby, please request the presence of all our guests and pass the word for Mr. Plumb and Dr. Finch, if you please.”
Soon thereafter, a most notable gathering was held in the great cabin. Morrow presided, flanked on either side by the mystic luminaries Benjamin Franklin and the Count St. Germain. Nelson was also granted a seat, as was Anne. Plumb, Finch and Weatherby were left to stand. Introductions were made throughout; Nelson acquitted himself well despite the surprise of meeting a traitor to the Crown, followed by the greatest alchemist known to mankind, all in the space of a few moments.
Weatherby caught Anne trying to meet his gaze, but he turned away each time, Cagliostro’s taunts echoing in his ears—and her denial of his claims notably absent.
“Our situation seems dire, my friends,” Dr. Franklin said finally. “We may safely assume that Cagliostro’s plans have gone far too well for him, and that he has the planetary essences of Mercury, Venus, Earth, the Moon, the four Jovian moons, and Saturn—the latter without even having to visit the place! Given that he schemes with an ancient Martian, and dares not approach Saturn, we may assume his destination is Mars.”
“So our course is set,” Morrow said. “We should proceed with all haste, since it’s clear his vessel is the faster.”
“Agreed, Captain. But we must be cautious,” St. Germain warned. “Franklin and I have not had much opportunity to discuss matters since leaving Callisto, so we have yet to divine his motives. Given his ties to Althotas, I suspect that Cagliostro’s plan has something to do with Mars, but a notion of his exact working escapes us, beyond the freedom of this Althotas person.”
“It is a difficult thing,” Franklin added. “Each of these planetary essences are, in and of themselves, most powerful. Many of them would, theoretically, cancel each other out. Others may produce any number of wild effects that would overshadow whatever goal Cagliostro may have. To place all of these in balance and harmony is a herculean task, especially to further his apparent goal.”
After a few moments of silence, Franklin rose slowly from the table; his exertions on Callisto had aggravated his gout, but his mind remained undimmed. “Captain Morrow, may we retire to the quarterdeck, if you please? I should like to see your orrery once I have obtained some books from my quarters.”
A few minutes later, the assemblage gathered upon the quarterdeck before the Daedalus’ clockwork model of the Known Worlds. “How long should it take us to make Mars?” Franklin asked.
“We are unfortunate that, as of now, Mars is traveling on the other side of the sun from Jupiter,” Weatherby said. “About seven weeks, I should say.”
“Mr. Weatherby, could you use this to give us a sense of where the planets will be in seven weeks’ time?” Franklin asked. Weatherby nodded and, with some hasty calculation, moved the planets ahead accordingly.
Franklin, Finch and St. Germain studied the position of the planets intently, and soon the alchemists were engaged in a lively discussion, while Anne looked on, listening intently.
“The six-pointed star, then?” Finch asked.
“Mercury is out of position for that,” the Count said. “What of the Rosa Crusis?”
“No, I can’t see it,” Finch said. “Saturn would have to be at least six degrees further along.”
“Then I should think it’s the Tree of Life,” Franklin said. “It is certainly the most powerful of alignments. That ought to please him, the scoundrel.”
“It should, but none of the planets are in position for it,” Finch said, holding up one of Franklin’s books. Upon the page, Weatherby saw a strange array of lines and circles—the circles were obviously the planets, and the lines connected them in some sort of alchemical manner, he supposed.
Yet there was something to the drawing that caused Weatherby to study it, and the orrery, intently. While the alchemists flipped through books and continued arguing, Weatherby circled the orrery for several moments, crouching over it, until he gasped in recognition.
“There is indeed a pattern on the orrery, My Lordship,” Weatherby said. “Look there. Do you see it?”
“Stay out of this, young man,” the Count snapped. “You know not of what we speak.”
“Francis! You could stand to be kinder,” Dr. Franklin said before turning to me. “What do you see, Mr. Weatherby?”
“Well,” said Weatherby, “this diagram is such that Mars is off to the right, yes? Well, I will admit that it does not hold true as such. But if you look at this pattern and put Mars at its center, then you might have better fortune with it.”
Dr. Franklin looked closely at the orrery, and the Count began referencing each planet in his book. Finch, meanwhile, looked over at the young lieutenant with a large smile upon his face. “I think you’ve cracked it, Weatherby.”
“So it would seem,” the Count said flatly. “The alignments match, though there are two spheres missing when there should be only one.”
Immediately, the alchemists launched into another vigorous debate. After a few minutes, it seemed Morrow had heard enough. “All right. Would one of you kindly tell we ignorant fools what you have found?”
Dr. Franklin responded: “I apologize, Captain. You see, the Tree of Life represents one of the oldest alchemical formulae we know of. It comes from the Jewish people and their Kabbalah study, which has informed our Great Work for thousands of years. There are ten major spheres in the Tree, most of which represent various planetary alignments. In most workings, the Sun is at the Crown, the uppermost sphere, though Earth may be in this place at times.
“Now, in the pattern that your Lt. Weatherby has discovered, you see that yes, the Sun is at the Crown, but Mars is at the center, here, what we call the Daath.”
“Yes, yes, I see it,” Morrow said. “But what does it mean?”
“I cannot say with certainty, but if Mars is his destination, than I would say that he wishes to alter the pattern of the Tree. Given Mars’ destructive qualities, I imagine this might be undertaken to create an unmaking of something, likely something immense.”
“Like the imprisonment of this Althotas person,” Dr. Finch said.
“Indeed,” Dr. Franklin said. “If the Xan imprisoned him in some sort of Hell between worlds, then this working would free him. But with the powerful materials at hand, there could be a risk of unleashing more than just one soul. He could crack open the very gates between our world and others beyond, perhaps even Hell itself!”
“We don’t know that,” St. Germain said. “All we know is that this is a clue to his working, nothing more. And there are two spheres still missing.”
The group fell silent once more, leaving it to Anne to speak up. “What of the Rocky Main, m’lord?” she asked St. Germain.
The Count looked at her with surprise and thinly veiled disdain. “What of it? Why are you even here, girl?”
“She is as much an alchemist as we,” Finch replied as Anne scowled at the Count. “I can vouch for her knowledge. She was apprenticed to Dr. McDonnell.”
“Apprenticed?” St. Germain said. “Are there no men left in the universe who can understand the
Great Work? All right, elaborate, if you would.”
Anne straightened up as she spoke. “Well, I was thinking about what we saw in the temple. There was a planet there, one that the Martians held, that the Xan completely destroyed. It appeared to me that what’s left of that planet could be the Rocky Main. If Cagliostro needed the essences of all the Known Worlds, would he not need something from the Main as well?”
“That may have some validity,” St. Germain remarked with a frown. “Some of us have long theorized that the Main was once the legendary planet Phaeton. But if there are workings that might involve this world, why have I not heard of them?”
Dr. Franklin reached over and actually slapped the Count in the back of the head in a very grandfatherly way. “Because you, and Roger, and so many of us hoard our knowledge like old dragons upon piles of gold, that’s why!” he scolded. “We work alone, when we should be working together!”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard your democracy in alchemy discussion before, Franklin. I’m still not going to any more Masonic meetings. So let us suppose Cagliostro may need the essence of Phaeton, though I’ve no idea what that might even look like. What then?”
Franklin turned to Weatherby. “Lieutenant, from what you know of the Chance’s travels, can you estimate how long it might take for them to travel from Callisto to the edge of the Main?”
Weatherby pulled out his journal and, flipping to the back page, began performing the necessary equations. “They can make the Main in two and a half weeks, Doctor. If they’re straight on to Mars, it might take them six or less.”
Franklin, in the meantime, was flipping through books of his own with Finch and St. Germain looking on. “Very good. Now, let us plot the largest islands in the Main, shall we?” Weatherby smiled at the reference to islands, as the Main consisted of nothing but barren rocks, ranging in size from pebbles to small worlds, floating in the dead of the Void.
After a few minutes, there were four coins upon the orrery. “These are the four largest, then—Pallas, Ceres, Juno and Vesta,” Franklin said. “Look how they are so close together, within a few days’ sail of each other. I believe that, as with Jupiter, he may attempt to fuse pieces of these islands together to recreate the essence of Phaeton itself.”
The Daedalus Incident Revised Page 31
