A Fistful of Dust

by Sharon Bidwell

  A sudden pitch of the ship made him take a step to right his stability. “Whoa,” he said only to receive strange looks from the others. It was then he realised he’d been the only one to move.

  “Ear infections can affect balance.” Arnaud’s words were plausible and, he suspected, used as a means for Folkard to save face, but he had no doubt as to the hidden message. Arnaud was watching him and would continue to do so. From here on out they would all watch each other.

  “Perhaps that is so, Fontaine, but needs must I carry on. We have a rescue mission.”

  “Then you believe Henry alive and well?” Highmore sounded hopeful.

  “That I cannot say, but clearly we are not the only visitors.” Folkard pointed. Below and slightly to the left they caught their first sight of the other flyer, a crude vessel to be sure even from this distance. It looked as though someone had cobbled it together in a private workshop. Folkard couldn’t say he’d like to be out in the aether in such a craft.

  “They’re damn lucky they didn’t encounter a vortex,” Nathaniel commented.

  “Quite so. And it is a wonder that they have made more than one trip from Mars to Phobos. Two at least that we know of, probably a minimal three.”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel concurred. “The original mission. The trip for supplies where our unknown American encountered Henry Barnsdale-Stevens, and possibly one to set up the operation.” He shrugged. “Whatever that happens to be.”

  “I hope the trip to the monolith was worthwhile, Stone.” Folkard gave him a pointed look.

  “As do I. I have much to decipher, and will try to do my best as we continue.”

  “Is it my imagination or is it brighter the lower we go?” Highmore sounded surprised.

  “There does appear to be some luminosity.” Folkard peered into the darkness attempting to answer Highmore’s question. “I do not see any signs of moss to explain it.”

  “Moss?”

  “A tedious explanation,” Nathaniel replied to Highmore’s enquiry without bothering to give one. “Is that ship…grounded?”

  Folkard tilted his head. “I think not.” He brought the flyer about forty-five degrees.

  Their lights shone on the haul of the other vessel. “Keep an attentive watch,” Folkard ordered. So far, all was quiet, but if the mysterious crew had left guards upon the flyer, they should be prepared for attack at any moment. “Ah…there. Just as I thought. See those wires.”

  Steel grey twisted cables spread out like netting from all angles of the flyer, shot into the bedrock of the walls. The flyer floated just a few feet above the cavern floor.

  “Be careful of those cables! We don’t want to come to damage by becoming entangled.” Hesitating, Folkard turned to Stone for some advice. “We can, however, affix our vessel to theirs?”

  “I see no reason why not.”

  “Will not the extra force on the cables pull them free from however they are fixed?”

  “A logical question, Highmore. The answer is no. The lack of gravity provides weightlessness. The very reason we float means there is no pull. The cables are not so much a method of pinning the other ship, simply one of tying it up. An anchor, if you will.”

  Piping through to the common room, Folkard ordered Whitlock, Burton and Carter across to the other ship.

  “It feels too quiet, sah.”

  “A good sentiment, Whitlock.” Folkard was beginning to like the man. He was quick to step up to a chore. To those on the control deck, he said, “The rest of us will meanwhile seek the point of entry.”

  “Point of entry?”

  “Into the heart of Phobos, Highmore. Even if some crew has been left upon the other vessel they came to Phobos for a reason, and would not have found it hovering at the bottom of a well.”

  “We suit up?”

  “Indeed, Professor. Time for reconnaissance. Find the means to go deeper and see whether there is an internal atmosphere.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “And I just got out of the damn thing, too.” He squared his shoulders. “Needs must. We take to the sand.”

  “Dust.” Arnaud interjected. “I examined the sample you provided. It is not a falsehood to call it sand, but it is of too fine a quality for the word to suffice. The…top soil, if you like to call it such, consists of dust.” As if his words were not enough, Arnaud pulled out the test tube containing the reddish surface of Phobos. He pulled the stopper then poured a sample into his palm. A fine vapour arose from the grains. “Dust. The surface of this moon, and I expect the base of the craters are made of dust.” Heads craned forward to see that Arnaud indeed held a handful of dust.

  5.

  “AT LEAST THERE’S no smell,” Nathaniel murmured.

  They had found a tunnel leading into the moon and an atmosphere. Once able, they had removed the suits. Further movement into the tunnels would be impossible so encumbered, so they left Burton to guard them, having already left Carter with the ship. Both men had orders to give them twenty-four hours before thinking of rescue. By then they would be well on their about their business or the worst would have happened. Owing to Highmore’s insistence, Whitlock went with them.

  Seeing Arnaud’s puzzled expression, Folkard explained. “The professor and I shared our first walk on Luna in underground tunnels such as this. Though there was more room, quite frankly.” At times, they were down to single-file and often had to duck or even crouch to progress under overhangs. In addition, they had only their lanterns for light. Whatever had provided the faint glow back at the main cavern was now conspicuous by its absence.

  “You were saying?” Arnaud prompted.

  “Yes, the um…smell was most readily apparent on Luna. While I am grateful for its absence here, I feel that I would exchange the cleaner air for…ow!” Folkard rubbed his head where he was sure a sizeable lump would shortly begin forming. Examining his hand in the light, he was grateful not to see blood. A scalp wound could bleed dreadfully even when not serious. “As I was saying, I would welcome the smell if it meant more room.

  “Careful everyone,” Folkard called along the line. “The last thing any of us needs is a concussion.” Highmore visibly winced.

  “Are you well, brother?” Elizabeth’s tone rang out causing the convoy to pause.

  “I…fare well,” Highmore said with some hesitation, no doubt realising all eyes were upon him. “I have a dislike for enclosed spaces it would seem, but it is not a matter for concern.”

  “So much for the extensive caves he has experienced in Devon,” Folkard whispered as they forged ahead.

  Chapter Seven

  “In Which Arnaud Tells Everyone

  That Nothing in Life is to be Feared, Only Understood”

  1.

  ALTHOUGH ANNABELLE WANTED to insist she could continue a little longer, when Folkard called for a rest, she silenced her natural impulse. They had been walking for longer than she cared to consider and Highmore was not looking his best. As they all sat, he confessed mild claustrophobia was proving to be ten times worse on Phobos. She overheard Nathaniel say that probably accounted for his actions on board Esmeralda 2, and while Nathaniel was no doubt right, she could not be so forgiving.

  How he would fare as they carried on remained to be seen. The irregular tunnel, which she had at first thought was flat, had in fact been leading gradually down, the slant so slight she barely noticed. When she had remarked upon it, no one reacted in surprise though clearly they all had become so intent on placing one foot before the other while taking care they did not bash their heads on the uneven ceiling, none had given it thought.

  When they broke into a larger cavern, and Folkard told everyone to rest, she saw sense and sat without complaint, taking the refreshment offered. She wasn’t hungry but was grateful for the water. Still, she ate, taking no notice of what she consumed or even the flavour. Her body required fuel, the food was fuel, so she consumed it. She remained quiet, aware of conversation, questions from Highmore addressed to Folkard and Nathaniel about t
heir trip to Luna. His query mainly seemed to be of how far tunnels such as these could extend, but really, the man might as well have asked how long was a piece of string. Luna was far larger than Phobos. Indubitably, this was also another world. Fine…it was a satellite, and of a finite size, but to call it a world was accurate enough. It was a world unto itself. Tunnels could loop back on themselves, lead in circles. The aether and the astral bodies within its sphere contained mysteries far beyond human understanding. Highmore’s questions were not to do with scientific enquiry. The man was suffering. Any fool could see that. At least when they’d been moving, he’d fallen into silence. She tried her best to be sympathetic but if Phobos heightened some senses, maybe it suppressed others, such as compassion.

  Elizabeth Highmore sat with her eyes closed, either pained by her brother’s outburst or oblivious to it. Her expression looked…quite peaceful. Her temples throbbing, Annabelle considered how she longed for just a few moments of peace herself. Now that she was fed and watered, Annabelle was eager to continue.

  Rising quietly, Annabelle stepped over the outcrop of rock she had been sitting on and headed into the tunnel on the other side. She would not go far, and even if the others noticed her missing, the cave had one entrance and one exit. They would catch up with her. She left her rifle, but took her gun.

  She had only ventured a few feet when light from her lantern caused something to sparkle. Intrigued, Annabelle moved ahead, taking a wide berth where the tunnel curved, bracing for attack. This tunnel was as empty as the one she had left, but the light definitely reflected.

  Annabelle put away her gun to free one of her hands. She soon discovered the source of increased illumination. Small rocks such as the quartz Highmore had acquired littered the ground. Snagging one, Annabelle held it in front of the light. Just like a prism, the glow passed through and dispersed in a wider spectrum, in turn bouncing off similar rocks on the ground and being thrown out to brighten her surroundings. The effect was beautiful. Flickering flames of radiance shimmered against the cavern walls, the glow alternately pale yellow and occasionally pale red as to appear as rust. Annabelle reasoned the cause was the colour of the quartz and the red colour of the…dust, not sand. Indeed, Arnaud was right. Fortunately, the floor of the tunnels had given way to hard rock for to walk upon the dust kicked up a fine powder, one that tickled the nose, and she imagined, probably unkind to one’s lungs.

  Taking the time to admire the trick of light, Annabelle blinked when something else caught her eye. Something black.

  Moving towards the object, she was reminded of her false leg, as she had to adjust her gait in order to reach over the rocky outcrop to snag the black rock she had seen.

  Not rock. Slate? The moment she drew it into the light she could see that the flaky texture of the find in some ways supported that idea, but although flat, the slate also had a curve. Not only that, it glittered.

  Turning her acquisition, Annabelle spied a myriad of colours. Black was the base, but it shimmered green, purple, blue and pink. Could this too be quartz? A type of mineral? Was the centre of Phobos in truth a geologist’s idea of heaven? How exciting for Arnaud.

  Pocketing the mysterious slate, Annabelle calculated she hadn’t gone far. Just a few feet more would enable her to see if there were more pieces and then she would take her discovery back to Arnaud. Facing forward, she spied a tight split in the rock. No trouble for her to slip through, though some of the men would be hard pressed.

  The tunnel continued on the other side, and yes, there laid another piece of rainbow quartz. Picking it up, she almost dropped it again as a clear, almost musical female voice rang out.

  “Are you off on your own adventure, Miss Somerset?”

  The other woman was so slight she walked through the split with ease. Despite her audacious phrasing, Elizabeth appeared shy, glancing at Annabelle uncertainly.

  “Are you not going to tell me to return to the men?” Elizabeth asked after some moments.

  “So you can inform them I’ve wandered off and I have to listen to complaints?” Annabelle had no reason to be snappish, having, indeed, wandered off. Nathaniel for one would not be happy with her. Neither would George if he were here. She could only hope he never heard of this.

  “Not at all. And I skip out on my brother all the time.”

  “You do? Pray tell, where do you go? Into the garden without his knowing?”

  Maybe it was the flickering glow or maybe Elizabeth blushed.

  “I’m…sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “I had thought you were being kinder to me of late, but I see your feelings towards me still appear to fluctuate, and yet you make a stand by my side when it is important.”

  “I stand by you when it is a matter of emancipation.”

  “The equality of women? It is an interesting notion.”

  “It is no notion. Something you might learn if you travelled more.”

  “You do not mean to tell me that the females of Mars are equal to their males?”

  “In some ways, no, but in others, yes. There are differing races on Mars just as there are on Earth and as many perspectives.”

  “I have to say these…garments are more practical.” Elizabeth ran her hands over the trousers she now wore. When Annabelle had suggested they would be more practical for getting in and out of a spacesuit, Elizabeth had refused, and Highmore had been almost outraged. When told if they had to remove the suit once underground it would leave Elizabeth in nothing but her undergarments their objections had ceased.

  “Yes. I dare say if more women tried on trousers, skirts might become obsolete.” Casting her gaze about, Annabelle looked for more of the slate. “So, have you discovered a taste for adventuring?”

  “I have always had such, and so does Joseph despite his protests. He even balloons on the weekend.”

  Annabelle shot the other woman a look to see whether she was serious. When Elizabeth’s twinkling gaze and small smile displayed she was joking the two women burst out laughing.

  “I…suppose, to one as widely travelled as yourself I must seem frivolous. I…regret we seemed to get off on a bad footing and yet there have been glimpses into what could be a friendship, if we are both so inclined?” The lilt of Elizabeth’s voice made that last a question. Aware of the underlying hope in the other woman’s tone, Annabelle relented.

  “I do not find you…frivolous. I am sure you are a perfect example of womanhood as deigned by London’s standards, but I… Oh, that did not sound as I intended.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I quite know what you mean. You would abhor my home life. ‘We have guests, Elizabeth. Attend them, Elizabeth. Order the servants to bring refreshments, Elizabeth. Your hem is too short, Elizabeth.’” As she spoke, Elizabeth swayed left and right, little curtsies to invisible guests. Her tone had taken on a pitch that quite replicated Joseph’s voice. She looked at Annabelle at the conclusion; the two women stared at one another, before laughing again.

  “What do you have there?” Elizabeth gestured towards another piece of slate Annabelle had just discovered.

  “Quartz of some kind, possibly. If this moon is indeed a great find of precious or semi-precious stones then I can quite understand why someone would have mining interests.”

  “I can see that. In either case, whether it was for gems or land, they would not be reasons for my Henry coming here.”

  “No?”

  Another sigh ensued. “I must seem like a silly lovestruck girl to come all this way looking for my fiancé.”

  “Nothing of the sort.” Annabelle’s thoughts were full of George just then. She picked up another piece of slate.

  “Hmm…no. Perhaps not. The captain is not without compassion, but I feel you appreciate that I had no choice in the matter. Does Nathaniel have a wife?”

  “N-nooo,” Annabelle said carefully.

  “Yet I am sure that if he did and she was out here alone that he would come after her.”

  “Yes, quite,” Ann
abelle said, remembering Nathaniel’s insistence that they go to Ceres to find Arnaud.

  “And yet it is true.” Elizabeth stopped walking so that Annabelle had to turn to face her. “I am frivolous because I’ve never known any better. Now I do, and it has taken me losing my Henry before we even began life together to make me see that.”

  “Do not give up hope.”

  “Oh, I do not mean he is necessarily deceased, but I have lost him almost as assuredly. Coming here was Henry’s dream. Not here,” Elizabeth gestured with her hands in a manner Annabelle guessed to mean Phobos. “But out into the aether. My brother is quite correct. Henry has an explorer’s heart and he… What was that?”

  A sound like the skittering of stones, but not. Annabelle felt the hair on her nape stand to attention. “Nothing.” She gazed around. “We have come farther than I intended. We should start back.”

  “Won’t the men be coming shortly? Can we not wait?”

  “Most assuredly not.” Taking Elizabeth’s arm, Annabelle propelled her back the way they had come. It couldn’t be. Yet she had recognised that sound. Although it wasn’t entirely the same…a strange chittering could mean only one thing, even though this moon was so much smaller and so far away from Luna…

  “I have indeed lost him,” Elizabeth Highmore was saying. “One adventure, but now that he has had a taste for it, one will not be enough for my Henry.”

  “If that be his choice, can you not join him?” Sweeping her lantern around, Annabelle gazed down the path from whence they had come. Where were the others? They should have caught up by now.

  “Henry? Adventuring? Oh…no, I… Well, I suppose I…could.” Elizabeth became absorbed. “It would make Joseph most unhappy,” she said as if speaking to herself. “Do we have to march this quickly?”

  “I have no wish to alarm you, but…” The quartz. The slate. The iridescent beauty of it. It’s curved shape.

  “Which is just the thing to say that will alarm me.” At least Elizabeth now picked up the pace. Both women gazed about, ahead, behind and to the sides. “What… Eeek!” Elizabeth stumbled back. Annabelle turned to look at from what the other woman retreated and saw there, at the side of the path, a disturbance in the dust, shifting sand, rising up, black that flashed with iridescent loveliness.