The Forever Journey (9 page)

He nodded in response, but held his silence.

There was an unusual look in Nathaniel’s eyes that Annabelle had only seen a few times. Mostly followed by something important. Sensing that he may feel as she had done, trying to find the words to say, she asked, “Has something happened to you? Something bad?”

Nathaniel shook his head, instead looking slightly more relaxed. “It is nothing that you need to worry about, more that I need to worry about.” He smiled ruefully. “You aren’t the only one with dark secrets, my dear.”

Annabelle held his hand. “Then tell me. You let me inflict my secrets on you, surely I can allow you the same courtesy. And I’ve worried about you recently.”

Nathaniel chuckled softly. “I am far more transparent than I care to be, if you’ve sensed my troubles. But no, it is nothing akin to the horror you went through. Rather it is something that I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. I have always felt that I was made wrong,” he added after a pause of consideration. “I have such thoughts that would be considered deviant. I know that love is the grandest emotion that we can have for another. That by God’s law ‘
Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination’,
but there is someone that I have fallen so deeply in love with that it contradicts that, and I fear being cast from God’s love.”

Annabelle looked at Nathaniel in silence. He could only mean one person, and Annabelle felt sure she knew who. His next words only served to confirm what she had suspected for some time, although she hadn’t realised such suspicions until now.

“Annabelle, I think I am in love with Arnaud.”

3.

FENN LAY UNDER
the main boiler, tightening some of the screws, thankful for the opportunity to immerse himself in work. Folkard’s biting words still left their mark on him.

That and what passed for his future. When they landed on Mars, he would be brought to justice.
Some justice
. Those damn Russians, if only he could have used the professor’s alias; he wouldn’t be feeling like he was. He could not bear to think of the repercussions for his family. The shame. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, tightening the last bolt.

Hearing the door to the engine room open, and subsequently close, he slid out from his position and stood to greet his visitor. It was Nathaniel, smiling, and greeting him affectionately. Fenn responded with a gruff “hello”, and carried on to the far side of the room. Nathaniel followed him in silence, noting his lack of conversation. After a few moments of checking the dials, Fenn allowed his irritation to best him and snapped.

“What do you want?”

Nathaniel shied away in surprise at his outburst. “Come now, Jack, is that any way to greet a friend, mood or not?”

Being reprimanded by Nathaniel was the least of his worries, but he still felt ill at ease having causing his friend to take offence. Changing tack, he started again with an apology. “I’m sorry, Prof. I’ve not had a good night, as I’m sure you’re fully aware. Is there something you wanted?”

A blank stare answered his words. Had Folkard not informed the crew? Get the guilty party to explain himself? A cruel punishment indeed.

“You have had no word from Folkard of what transpired?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“It surely is better to come from me, than another source.” Fenn sighed. Shaking his head. “When we last docked on Earth, I was attacked by Russians and forced to reveal our biggest secret—that you are alive. In my weakness, I forgot to use your alias and they took great pleasure in gleaning the information from me.”

“My goodness,” Nathaniel replied. A look of horror filling his face. “How are you holding up?”

Fenn had always considered Nathaniel a good man, but he couldn’t understand this reaction. Fenn had betrayed him, and all he was concerned about what Fenn’s wellbeing? “I am all better now,” he said, unable to hide his confusion. “I am so very sorry. I was weak, and I know the punishment that will follow.”

Nathaniel looked carefully at Fenn. “I know that you did not mean to let out that information, and I am thankful that you told me in person. I am sorry, also, for what will happen because of that.”

Fenn hung his head dejectedly. The professor was
too
good a man. Fenn doubted he would be so understanding were the positions reversed.

“Why don’t you take a banyan, Jack?” Nathaniel asked, worry on his face. “I’ll keep an eye on things for a bit.”

“Thanks, but I think I’d rather just get on with the work, you know? Keep my mind off it all, as much as I can.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Then how about I help you, make sure all is okay with the governor?”

Fenn muttered “thanks” and went back to his primary station.

4.

FOLKARD PACED BACK
and forth. He was getting restless again; the role of a space mariner was proving less exciting than he expected, and he found himself longing for his old command again. He heard clinking on the rungs just outside the door. He paused with hands behind his back.

Professor Stone’s head became visible through the pane of the door. Folkard nodded to him, and beckoned him in. The door opened with a slight creak and Stone entered, closing the stiff hinged door behind him. “How goes your duty, Captain?”

“Well enough, Stone. We are making adequate time for Mars, even with our detoured route. We should arrive in just under eleven days, lest we have continued problems with the engines.”

“All was in good order when I left the engine room, neither Jack nor I foresee any trouble.”

Folkard nodded and walked to the back of his chair. He looked into space, narrowing his eyes. He was about to reply to Stone but an odd feeling of apprehension distracted him. He tried to shake the feeling and he wiped his face with a broad palm. Folkard hated being unfocussed, and had no patience for those who took their time with their replies so it was frustrating for himself to do so.

“Fenn mentioned to me what you two spoke of yesterday,” Stone said.

Folkard eyed the professor, his brow creasing slightly. A hint of a smile lingered at one side of Stone’s mouth. What was the man up to? The only words shared with Seaman Fenn were several commands and compliances through the speaking tube. It seemed an odd thing for the two to speak about. “Oh. Well as you said, the engines are unhindered no?”

“Perhaps the odd hiccough here and there from the troubles they endured the other week, but other than that they seem much better.”

There was silence for a moment as Folkard attempted to remember his previous trail of thought. He had almost felt a premonition coming on, but the sensation had passed.

“Oh, and not to forget, Captain, I’ve confirmed with Fenn that some of the instruments have been giving false readings.”

Folkard snapped out of his near day dream and sharply turned his head to Nathaniel. “I see. I hope there was no delay in bringing me this news?”

“I came straight from the engine room. The reading are only slightly uncalibrated, it’s just a case of tweaking them slightly, which I have come to do.” Stone moved over to inspect the aetherlabe and various readings. “Thus nothing should be amiss with our location or progress. When did someone last relive you of your post, Captain? I’m sure Annabelle should be here by now.”

Come to think of it, this had been quite the prolonged shift, and lethargy did not do well on duty. “I think you are right, Stone. Where is Miss Annabelle?”

“I’m not sure, I did not see here on my stroll up. You need not worry though; I can take over for you. She’s bound to turn up soon.”

Folkard sensed an odd air about Stone… Well, different at least. The man had been out of sorts lately, but was this his way of putting that behind him? “Very well then, I shall retire to my quarters. Remind me of any changes that you make to the instruments.”

The two exchanged goodbyes and then Folkard heaved open the heavy door and looked down into the claustrophobic shaft that led to the rest of the ship. He was closing the door behind him when he began to experience what felt like another psychic episode dawning. But no, the sensation quickly departed.

Folkard continued to stare down the stretch of steel and iron. He could not help but feel a sense of foreboding. Something what wrong, out of place, missing perhaps.

This feeling stayed with Folkard for the rest of the night. Later on, as he drifted gently within the confines of the cot’s straps, though fatigue had ravaged him, he laid awake unable to find peace.

Chapter Seven

“What He Wills To Do”

1.

ANNABELLE WALKED ALONG
the gangway toward the engine room, grimacing at the unpleasant sound of her metal leg against the decking. Her lack of sleep from dream-plagued nights didn’t help her mood, either. Opening the door to the engine room, she was greeted by a fine cloud of steam that billowed gently past her as if it had been waiting to escape.

“What’s this, late to relieve me of my shift? Need I remind you that I filled your absence yesterday on the control deck before you strolled in?”

Annabelle jumped slightly, but smiled at the playful cadence of the voice. Nathaniel stepped out from the tangle of pipes and steam. He bore a great smile, the kind she had not seen on his face for a fair while. Perhaps unburdening himself yesterday had done his composure wonders. She wished to talk more about it, but found herself uncertain how to broach the subject. For her part, Annabelle was determined to remain a true friend and keep his secret. She reflected on how much he had survived already; indeed, as far as anyone knew, beyond a select few in the Admiralty and the British Government, Nathaniel Stone was dead. Could the reputation of a dead man be ruined?

“Nathaniel, you must announce your presence in a less startling manner,” she said returning the smile. “It isn’t time for my shift in here at all, and neither was I late for duty on the control deck yesterday. You were the one who turned up early to relieve Folkard.”

Nathaniel laughed, almost in key with the bizarre sound the boiler happened to be emitting. “I jest! You know how I tease.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes and perched herself gently onto a stool that stood alongside the wall-mounted workstation. Arnaud’s presence was certainly rubbing off on him; there was a time when such “jesting” was almost taboo for Nathaniel. How things had changed in the last year.

“Do you think that my leg is obvious in its awkwardness?” she asked, since it was one topic she knew she could discuss freely with him.

“Of course not, why are you asking all of a sudden? You have seemed at ease with it since we left Venus.”

“No, it’s functioning fine. I’ve just been noticing it more.”

Nathaniel regarded her closely, almost intrusively in fact. Annabelle was not sure she cared for it. She felt studied. He smiled warmly. “I shouldn’t worry, you are aware of the effects such varying gravities have on the springs in the leg. I should have spent time developing it while we were docked on Earth, but you would go out gallivanting.”

“I was not gallivanting. I was occupying my time in the best way I know how. Uncle Cyrus was unwilling to spend much time with me, and you would not step outside of Chatham Dockyards… What else was I to do? Be confined, too?”

Nathaniel shrugged and turned away. “
A man can surely do what he wills to do, but cannot determine what he wills.’
I suspect it is true of you, too.”

Annabelle forced a smile, not entirely sure as to what he meant by that. She watched him work, as he twiddled various valves, and checked the corresponding readings before spinning round in near ballerina fashion to obtain a large wrench that had been hanging at elbow-height behind him.

He wore an odd complacent smile, almost as if he was paying no real mind to his actions. “You know, I have come to appreciate something during my time tending to this room,” he said suddenly. “People are not completely unlike this place.”

Annabelle blinked, and looked around the engine room. She did not see the similarity. “In what way?”

“Well, if I were to totally neglect my duties here, the engine would soon fail. Similarly, if I were to neglect my friends, our relationships would suffer. People need the correct amount of maintenance and care, in order for things to work properly.”

“I am not sure I care for that comparison. You mean to say that our friendship, for example, is like…” Annabelle paused, looking into nothing as she searched for an apt word. She couldn’t find one exactly suitable so she finished with “a job?”

Nathaniel freed the wrench from his grip, allowing it to float freely before snapping onto one of the magnetic strips that were designed for holding tools and parts. “No, of course not. Do you see what I am doing now as a ‘job’? Nothing of the sort; I enjoy my shifts in here. They give some time to…contemplate things.”

It could be supposed that any relationships could be broken down in such a way. The relationships that animals shared were based on mutual benefit; a parakeet would take the time to preen another member of its flock, if it expected the same to be done in return. Annabelle recalled their conversation yesterday. Was the sharing of secrets so dissimilar?

“It is no secret that I had become lax in my approach to working and sustaining the engine room. I fear I left Fenn with a troublesome amount to do. I would assume that is why we were having problems with the engine last week.”

Nathaniel continued on his analogy, speaking of how causing a certain degree on the boiler, for example, could, even if repaired, have a prolonged effect on the performance of the entire flyer and how the same could be applied to a relationship shared by two people. A taint on a relationship could indeed fade, though it would never be erased completely. Even now, months later, Annabelle recalled the sting she had felt when Nathaniel had revealed he had all but ignored her plight in London.

Fade, but never truly erased.

She shook her head. Such deep thoughts so early in the day. “Well, I do hope you consider me worthy of the care you are currently showing this room,” she said, keeping her tone light.