The Forever Journey

by Paul F Gwyn

  “A brave one,” Nathanial said. He swallowed, considering his words. “I can only hope that if put to the test, I could give my life to protect you, to protect Arnaud, to protect the people that I love. What sets people of moral integrity apart from the rest is that we do whatever we must to protect those closest to us, however, there is a fine line between killing for those we love, and sacrificing yourself in the process.”

  Annabelle was clearly bothered by what he had said, but said nothing, and instead stared out of the greenhouse window. After what felt like forever to Nathanial, she turned to him.

  “I think…I need to be alone right now, I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to return to my cabin now.”

  Nathanial started to reply, but instead nodded to her, watching her stride across the greenhouse and leave. They would get through this, they always did. Even if she had Bedford, Nathanial would always be protective of her, and he was not going to let her fall into despair and inhumanity.

  Chapter Five

  “Evidence of Truth Comes from the Senses”

  1.

  CORNED BEEF! ALWAYS with the corned beef. Dégoûtant! There was only so much that could be made of corned beef, and Arnaud’s stomach was strongly disapproving of those things. Having searched the supplies more extensively, he had been delighted to find all manner of treasures. Turkey bits, liver paste, chicken meats and even tinned sardines; however, Arnaud had opted for the turkey bits.

  As he tucked in to the rudimentary yet luxurious meal that he had thrown together, Annabelle walked through the door ever so elegantly.

  “Turkey?” she said. “Well I am pleasantly surprised.”

  “Oui! A fine dish indeed, and enough to share, mademoiselle!”

  She helped herself to the new found food and took up a seat opposite Arnaud. “How are you and dear Nathanial? I sense things are a little strained between you both.”

  Through a mouthful of turkey Arnaud replied; “Well, whatever progress we manage to achieve doubles back on itself due to our disagreements.”

  “You and him are still bickering?” He held her look, slightly taken aback by her comment.

  “Myself? Well enough. Nathanial however…” He shook his head. “He has been acting slightly strange, have you noticed this at all?” He was careful to adopt a casual tone. The far too intimate conversation between Nathanial and him, though a week past, filled his head too much.

  “Yes.” Her response was just a fraction too quick. “I doubt he’d have mentioned it, but we were talking, nearly a week ago now, of our worries about the vortex. Our conversation soon moved onto the events that took place on Ceres.”

  Arnaud felt a small dart penetrate his heart. The days spent inside that hollow world had been strenuous and he had not quite put it all behind him. Then he realised what Nathanial must have brought up. “Those were grim times, ma chère,” he said gently.

  The pair shared a solemn look for a moment.

  “I am assuming he mentioned Blayney?”

  Annabelle nodded. “He expressed his disapproval on the matter.” Her face was devoid of expression now. “I take no pride in what I did, but he claimed that I showed no remorse.”

  Arnaud frowned. That sounded most unlike Nathanial; although he had to confess, to himself at least, that his confére had been acting in a strange fashion in the last week. “Don’t take his words to heart, Annabelle.”

  “Oh I’ve not, I am just concerned,” she said warmly.

  “I must admit, it has bothered me too. I don’t like it, but there is something troubling him. We can barely go an hour without having a disagreement of one sort of another.” Arnaud paused. He was not used to sharing his feelings with other people; he had been brought up to know his own mind, and to act on it. Not discuss it with others before hand, but being cooped up in a box in the aether… “This flyer, too, does not help resolve situations. I am not sure what to say to him. We are good friends, non, but he won’t let me help.”

  “Just give him a bit of room,” Annabelle offered, and Arnaud nodded slowly. To take advice was not his way, not in personal matters, but Annabelle had known Nathanial for several years now. “I would suggest leaving him be, and try talking to him in the morning.”

  Even when Nathanial was acting out of character and behaving like a fool, Annabelle still retained her trust and sympathy for him, and inevitably Arnaud did so, too. What was it about Nathanial that he engendered such trust and loyalty?

  “I suppose you are right,” he finally said.

  The common room was silent for a minute or so as the two ate their meals.

  “You know, when he and I talked of what happened on Ceres, he mentioned something that I’ve been thinking about,” Annabelle said, breaking the silence. Arnaud looked up and raised his eyebrows as an indication for her to continue. “He said that he would sacrifice himself for the ones he loved…” Her voice trailed off and she stared blankly. Arnaud could tell she was slipping back into contemplation of Blayney’s fate. “I am going to return to my cabin. I’ve enjoyed your company.”

  On that note, Annabelle made a swift exit, leaving Arnaud with his own thoughts again.

  He would sacrifice himself for the ones he loved… Annabelle’s words echoed in Arnaud’s head, and he was forced to wonder, would Nathanial consider Arnaud someone that he loved?

  2.

  A CERTAIN DEGREE of order had been established within the engine room, though it had required double the normal amount of work and resulted in significantly less sleep for Fenn. The strain on the engine was indeed quelled, but only just. For how long, on the other hand, would be anyone’s guess amid the bizarre cosmic turbulence to which they had been increasingly subjected.

  He wished that the professor would spend more time helping maintain the engine rather than tinkering in the lab with the Frenchman, though that thought was one that would never be spoken aloud. Professor Stone was, after all, here under the recommendation of Captain Folkard.

  As he heard the engine room door swing open behind him, Fenn slouched with relief. As far as he was concerned Stone could not have arrived sooner, as he had been on shift for what seemed like an eternity now.

  But it wasn’t Stone, it was the captain himself.

  “Does the problem still persist, lad?” Folkard huffed, surprising Fenn with the abrupt question.

  Fenn immediately stood to attention, despite his fatigue. “Sorry, sir, I thought you were the professor for a moment there.”

  “You are in a bit of a state, aren’t you? Do remember that although you are somewhat secluded back here, you are still serving Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

  “Apologies, sir. I’ll ensure that I don’t grow complacent back here.”

  “Glad to hear. Right, how are the engines holding up? You’ve had no further problems I trust?”

  “Still a tad temperamental, but they’ve been functioning far better than they were.”

  Folkard strode over to one of the workstations and peered at the gauges and mumbled something under his breath. Fenn was desperately trying to stay alert but the lethargy was pulling at him.

  “Well, everything seems to be reading well, correct pressure… Yes. I have navigated a course that puts us out of range of the aether vortex now, so there shan’t be any trouble from now on. You must make sure that such problems in here are avoided in future. For example, had a Russian ironclad been following us…”

  Fenn’s ears pricked up at those words. Folkard turned from the controls and stared at him, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

  “Sir, we would be able to avoid an ironclad’s attention with ease, even if the Russians had our exact location and route,” Fenn said, his voice shaking.

  “Why on Earth would the Russians ever have such delicate information? I need not remind you of the importance of the secrecy of our excursion in the aether.”

  “Well, hypothetically speaking, sir.”

  “Well within your hypothesis, please elaborate on how the
Russians could possibly have access to such information?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. I…”

  “But it is your theory, is it not, Seaman?” Folkard snapped, cutting him off at the quick. “An odd theory, I must say. But perhaps you have experience in the area.”

  Fenn froze, heart in his throat. The deception could not continue. “Sir, I have something to admit, as you must have guessed.”

  “Enlighten me, Mister Fenn,” Folkard said, his face frighteningly impassive.

  “During shore leave, in London, I was ambushed by Russian agents. They seemed to know so much about who I was; that I had served on board Sovereign…”

  “I’ve been able to feel your guilt, Fenn! I’d prayed for the sake of the Navy that your trouble was nothing of magnitude, but now I see you for what you are!” Folkard’s voice bellowed through the engine room, causing Fenn to retreat from his attentive posture.

  “No, sir, I…” He took a step back and lost his footing as one of his shoes was drawn to a low laying pipe by its magnets. He quickly righted himself, banging his arm on the speaking tube and knocking the cap open in the process. He straightened himself up; he could not look weak in front of Folkard. “Sir, they beat my ribs, breaking a couple I’m sure. They threatened my family! But they only wanted to know about this mission. They…know Professor Stone is alive. Believe me, sir, I did not want to tell the Russians anything, but…” He swallowed hard. “I meant to use his alias, but the threats were too much. I…I am sorry!”

  Folkard was silent for a few moments, his eyes boring into Fenn. The young seaman had heard much about the captain’s wrath, served with him on Sovereign for long enough. This was it; he would be strapped in irons as soon as they reached Mars.

  “Does the oath that you swore on your country mean nothing to you?” Folkard asked, his voice level with menace. “Count yourself lucky that you are required to maintain this engine room. Had this been under different circumstances, you’d be rotting in the brig!” Folkard drew himself up to his full height. Despite being some inches shorter than Fenn, the seaman could not deny the power his captain carried. “Or tossed out of the airlock for treason. As soon we reach Mars you can consider yourself bound by law. Now return to your duties.”

  Folkard walked swiftly out of the engine room, leave Fenn feeling numb.

  He remained in the same spot for several minutes, with Folkard’s words resonating through his mind.

  His career was over. Worse, his whole family would be shamed when the charges were levied against him. Better to end it now.

  3.

  FOLKARD WAS DELIGHTED when Annabelle rapped on the door and joined him on the control deck. Esmeralda 2 was now just over half way through its voyage to Mars, and it was turning into an arduous journey, what with the disturbances from the vortex, and the strange behaviour from the crew. It was pleasant to be accompanied for short periods of time when on duty, as it was ever so tedious. It was a blessing that his company wasn’t exclusive to his small collection of books; three of which he had already finished. While Folkard knew he wasn’t as young as he once was, piloting a small aether flyer hardly tested his abilities.

  “We are making good time to Mars then, Captain?”

  Folkard, from a craned look at Annabelle when she entered, noted that she was looking fairly well given the atmosphere on the flyer. “Indeed we are, Miss Annabelle, past the half way mark now. And how have you been keeping?”

  Annabelle walked up to the idle chair adjacent to Folkard’s and sat, strapping herself in. “Not brilliantly. Nathanial continues to act in an erratic fashion, but that merely supplements my true worries.”

  “What is bothering you?”

  Annabelle did not answer immediately, and when she did she spoke hesitantly. “I don’t want to sound like one who belongs in an asylum but, I have been hearing things.”

  Folkard paused. “Things?”

  “Well, one thing to be precise: A child.”

  Folkard looked out into space, but his eyes were fixed on the small girl who was still running from him. “Don’t count yourself alone in that, Miss Annabelle. I thought it was my mind playing tricks, but I have heard it, too,” he said. “I first though it was the result of a practical joke, but seemingly not.”

  There was silence. Folkard saw something in the corner of his eye. He shot a look out at the aether, but only the stars were to be seen. Annabelle craned her head to gain a look.

  Nothing.

  A sound became audible, slowly seizing their attention. Folkard and Annabelle snapped out of their gazes and paused. Fluctuating in volume, it continued, dominating the control room.

  Folkard turned his head, it was a voice, ghostly and distorted. If Folkard did not know better he would have claimed the voice to be that of Seaman Fenn, but that was ludicrous, after all Fenn was in the engine room. What was the voice saying? He strained himself to hear.

  Russians?

  Folkard and Annabelle turned and shared a look of mutual bewilderment.

  “I assume you heard that, Captain?”

  Folkard nodded grimly.

  4.

  A DIM HUMMING emitted from beneath the cot, disturbing Nathanial from his sleep. Not that he minded so much, after all the intensity of his dreams had not abated, although beside him, Arnaud continued snoring peacefully. It was a steady pulsing beat, not unlike the sound a heart makes when heard through a stethoscope.

  If the laboratory had been closer to the engine room, Nathanial could have passed the noise off as an effect of the boilers or some such. Irked by the constant intrusion he finally opened his eyes.

  Had the noise been there before? He supposed it might have, but regardless, it was becoming unbearable. Nathanial looked at Arnaud and began to question himself. If the geologist could sleep through the humming, was he really hearing it? It wouldn’t be entirely unheard of. Especially given the strangeness of their trip from Earth so far.

  Pressing his ear to the cot, the sound became clearer, quieting when he moved his head back up. It was definitely not imagined. He got up from the cot and looked at Arnaud. How in heaven’s name could he sleep through it? Thinking of Arnaud’s long time in the depths of Ceres, Nathanial supposed Arnaud had slept through worse.

  He kneeled down, peering into the darkness underneath the cot, and reached an arm out. The only thing that he felt was Arnaud’s leather satchel. Indecision wrought his mind. He did not wish to pry into his friend’s possession without permission, but the humming was definitely coming from within the satchel—he could feel the vibration through the leather. He could not help but give in to the intrigue; he blamed the scientist in him, always wanting to know the answer. Having no desire to disturb Arnaud, Nathanial took the satchel over to the workstation and, glancing back at the Frenchman to confirm he was indeed still sleeping, proceeded to slip open the clasp of the satchel and remove its contents.

  His first thought was that it must be some sort of joke. Rising off the table and floating in front of him was an inch thick, hexagonal plate. Recognition brought with it an unwanted memory. His first trip to Mercury last year, and similar plates formed around the body of Professor Fournier—an image that left quite an impression.

  Without thinking, he made his way across the room and shook Arnaud awake. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, still shaking him, ignoring the look of shock on Arnaud’s tired face.

  “Que l’enfer?”

  “How could you, Arnaud? You know exactly what the plates are. You fool!”

  Arnaud’s grogginess dissipated and his eyes enlarged as he regained his senses. He looked first at Nathanial, then around the room until his gaze fell on the desk where the plate still floated. He closed his eyes and sighed. “It is not so simple, mon confére,” he said, eyes still closed.

  “It is very simple,” Nathanial scoffed. “This explains everything: the weird dreams, the hearing things, everyone acting oddly. It’s all to do with these plates. They are nothing but trouble. You were
there, Arnaud. You know what they are.” He stepped away from Arnaud, his mind running through everything that happened on Mercury. “What if Hermes is here, on this ship, trying to manifest again?”

  Arnaud looked at Nathanial in worry but his expression changed to one of hope almost instantaneously. “No, remember, the souls of the dead merged with Hermes. They would not let him manifest in such a manner as before. There is just no way that they could let him trick and torment anyone like he did on Mercury.”

  Nathanial wanted to argue back, but saw logic in what Arnaud was saying. Nonetheless… “Let us hope to God that what you are saying is true. It would not do well for Hermes to come back. I do not think he is overly fond of us anymore.” He grinned momentarily at Arnaud, before regaining a stern façade. “We have side-tracked. Why on Earth are you carrying that plate? What could have possessed you to endanger yourself…to endanger Annabelle in such a way?”

  Arnaud looked around the laboratory as if trying to find something to help him. He gave up and sighed again. “When you left Mercury, I missed you more than I had anticipated. I carried on with my research, and hoped every day to see you again. No matter what I did, my thoughts always returned to you.” A sad look fell upon his face, as if he was remembering those times.

  “I decided to go on long walks to take my mind off your absence. So unlike me, oui?” he added with the usual twinkle in his brown eyes. “One night I was returning from one such walk, and I thought I heard your voice. I rushed in to my laboratory, thinking you had returned. Instead, I found a ghost of you flickering in front of me. It vanished before I could talk to it. I knew straight away it was caused by the plate that we had studied. That it must have somehow caught an imprint of you.” Arnaud took tentative steps towards Nathanial. “I’ve kept the plate ever since, because it felt like I had a part of you with me at all times, and that made me feel…it made me happy, despite the risk. I could not let you be taken away from me again.”