The Venusian Gambit (20 page)

“Sire,” Anne said quietly, but with pride, “I must regretfully decline your condolences at this time.”

By this point, all upon the walls were transfixed at the sight of the English squadron swooping down upon the French, and the Prince Regent bore upon his face a grand smile indeed. “There’s no regret to be had,” he replied. “Go, my Lady, and attend to the workings. Hopefully, the tide will have turned.”

Anne gratefully rushed off, leaving Philip and Elizabeth with the Prince Regent and Castlereagh, watching as
Victory
and her squadron flew low over the city, their planes nearly horizontal as the ships tried to catch as much of the wind as possible to arrest their fall.

Admiral Weatherby, it seemed, wanted to stay aloft until the last possible moment, for not only were the planesails extended, but also the ruddersail—massive sails hanging at least fifty feet below the keel that would catch the Solar Wind and provide a ship in the Void with direction. And the sails were working just as well aloft as in the Void, it seemed. As Philip looked out into the sky, he imagined that Finch had managed an extension of Mercurium’s innate characteristics, allowing short periods of flight by arresting the usual Void-going and keel-falling properties inherent to the mystical practices surrounding the Royal Navy’s—Philip’s thoughts were wholly interrupted by a huge spray of water from the Firth of Forth, for
Victory
had finally made keelfall, ruining her ruddersail in the process but landing nearly amidships with the largest of the French vessels. A moment later,
Victory
’s guns flashed. White puffs from the English ship were followed by black smoke from the French, just as the sound of the shot washed over the walls of Edinburgh Castle. Other English ships landed, with one unfortunate brig nearly capsizing as it did so, ultimately colliding head-on with a larger French vessel. Almost immediately, fires broke out aboard both ships.

Having made short work of her first target,
Victory
had sailed onward toward another large French ship, with alchemical fire pouring forth from her gun ports. Similarly, HMS
Mars
and the other English vessels had seized the upper hand, seriously damaging much of the French fleet. The ships would not be taken as prizes, not so close to shore, and not with so many undead soldiers aboard. Fire would be the only answer, for it was sure to destroy as many of the abominable
Corps Éternel
as possible. Even so, Philip knew the patrols along the shorelines would increase in coming days, for there would be stragglers, perhaps entire squads, of sodden but still-animated corpses wading out of the river.

Victory
had, by this time, landed several shots into her second opponent, and of the dozen French ships that had sailed into the Firth of Forth, seven were already ablaze. The remaining ships—only one of which was a two-deck gunship—had already turned about and were making for the open ocean.

“If the admiral keeps this up these last-minute heroics,” the Prince Regent said, turning toward Philip and Elizabeth with a paternal smile, “he shall no doubt cause my heart an arrest.” The prince turned to Castlereagh. “Bring me the message papers for
Victory
so I may write the admiral a personal commendation.

“’Tis a far better thing than to write a eulogy.”

CHAPTER 10

January 17, 2135

“W
ith all commendation for your enterprising and wholly meritorious innovation….”

Gerald Ayim looked up from his holocontrols in confusion. “Excuse me, Commander?”

Shaila Jain looked at him blankly for a moment, then realized that the thought that occurred to her out of the blue must’ve come out her mouth without her realizing.
Really not good
, she thought.
Keep it together.

“Sorry, Doctor. Thinking out loud about something,” she muttered, turning her attention back to Stephane, whose glassy, now-angry glare was fixed solely on her. “Just distracted. Sure you understand.”

The physicist nodded, though his understanding was, at best, partial. “Of course, Commander. I hope this innovation does work,” he said brightly as he hooked wired pads to Stephane’s forehead. Stephane flinched after each application.

And behind his head, out of view, the Emerald Tablet glowed an angry pale green. Shaila could swear it was
pulsing
somehow, and the erratic variation in the energies coming out of it, as measured by the bank of sensors around it, backed that up. They had to take him out of containment to conduct the experiment, but it was the DAEDALUS team’s professional opinion that whatever afflicted him was not contagious…probably. Still, Diaz ordered a maximum of three people in with Stephane and the machine at all times, and Diaz wasn’t going to put Stephane through the experiment without being present. Neither was Shaila.

To Shaila’s surprise, it took very little convincing for Diaz to agree to hook Stephane up to the Emerald Tablet device, even though it came down to a hunch. “I monitored your interview with him,” Diaz reminded her. “If it pisses him off, it’s got to be good, right?”

The idea that this could also harm Stephane was unspoken, except for a long glance they shared before Diaz gave the go-ahead. It was a risk, and one that would ultimately hang around Diaz’ neck should it go south. But Stephane had spoken French for the first time since his possession on Titan, and the fact that what he said was meaningful in a way only Shaila would understand…. She was grateful that, of all the two centuries’ worth of science fiction she made him watch, he had latched onto one of the more obscure ones.

“All right, Doctor,” Diaz said now, standing over Stephane’s prone and strapped-down body. “Run it by us one last time for the record.”
The record
, of course, was the bank of holorecorders and sensors and God-knows-what devices around them, the ones that would exonerate or condemn them once the inquiries started.

Ayim cleared his throat. “We currently theorize that this man,” he began, nodding at Stephane, “used this so-called ‘Emerald Tablet’ device to download information stored within protein chains drawn from the waters of Enceladus, both before and after the planet’s destruction. We believe these proteins—and/or the data which they carried—existed in quantum superpositioning between two dimensions, allowing for a certain amount of information to be shared between both dimensions. We also currently theorize that one of these proteins has infected this man, and that the data stored therein may be acting as a kind of interdimensional virus, somehow possessing him with a heretofore unknown alien intelligence.” He paused. “I still can’t believe I’m saying all that.”

“Yes, you can,” Diaz snapped. It sounded like an order.

“Yes, of course. While very implausible, it is the only explanation that fits all of the facts as we know them,” Ayim said quickly. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. It is our belief that if this device can ‘download’ and decrypt data stored on other Enceladan proteins, and breaking them down in the process, then it may be possible to do the same here. Whether we recover any data, I cannot say, though we have replaced the comm relay section of the device with an optical holodata storage unit, so we may capture whatever information we can. More importantly for Dr. Durand here, we may be able to break down the protein that is anchoring him to whatever intelligence currently possesses him. We hope that this will free him from that influence, ideally without damaging the proteins that make up his own DNA.”

And there’s the catch
, Shaila thought.

Diaz looked over at Shaila, who nodded. The fact that Stephane was indeed somehow possessed by an alien intelligence was the single biggest military secret in the Solar System; gaining next-of-kin consent for an experiment such as this was impossible. So it fell to Shaila to give the go-ahead. Both she and Diaz figured she was close enough, though she had never broached the idea to Stephane while they were together. Or, rather, while he was himself.

Let them sue
, Shaila thought.
I know he’s in there. I know he wants out.

“All right, team. Julie, how are we looking?” Diaz asked.

The tech replied over the comm; she was in the other room, monitoring the sensors. “We’re…fine, I guess, General. Commander Jain, would you mind taking a step closer to Dr. Durand for me?”

To Shaila’s surprise, she found herself at least a good two strides away from Stephane, almost in the corner of the room. She attributed it to nerves, but also to the glare he continued to fix her whenever she was within range of his eyes. “Sure,” she said flatly, and took a step forward. “Why?”

“Wow. Take another step, would you?” Julie asked.

Frowning, Shaila stepped closer still, but behind Stephane’s head. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Interesting,” Julie said absently. “It looks like the ambient Cherenkov radiation in the room is increasing whenever you get closer, while the Cherenkov radiation coming off the subject is
decreasing
.”

“What does that mean?” Diaz snapped.

Ayim grabbed another sensor pad and moved toward Shaila with it. “It means we need to have a look at you as well, Commander,” he replied. “I don’t know why, but something is going on between you two.”

Diaz suddenly brightened. “Could it be their relationship, Doctor? Maybe Stephane is in there trying to kick the other guy out. Shaila could be a positive influence on that.”

The physicist finished taping a sensor to Shaila’s head, then turned to Diaz with a look of patient, paternal disbelief on his face. “There is no scientific basis to make that kind of assumption, General. That is why we measure and study.”

“You’re a real buzzkill, Gerry,” Diaz said, giving Shaila a wink. “I vote love.”

Ayim shrugged as he fussed with the last of the connections between his equipment, the Tablet and his subjects. “As you wish, General. I believe we are ready. Shall we proceed?”

Diaz nodded. “By the authority granted me by the President of the United States, you are authorized to proceed, Doctor,” she said formally, likely for the benefit of the recording devices and as a way to defer blame to a higher authority. “Good luck.”

With a nod and the press of a button, Ayim activated the Emerald Tablet device. The slab started to glow even brighter.

And then Stephane screamed—an unearthly scream that seemed to permeate the room with an eerie resonance, even as it caused all three observers to jump out of their skins.

Reflexively, Shaila reached out and took Stephane’s hand.

And her eyes suddenly filled with a green-white glow, blinding her.

Shaila stood on the edge of a cliff. Behind her was a verdant field, covered in wildflowers and grasses, with an impossibly blue sky above her and a sun that seemed to shower the land with golden peace. Over the side of the cliff below her—far below, in fact, at least a kilometer—was a dark, blasted plane, covered in dark rocks and gray desert dirt, with clouds the color of coal and a river of black water running through it.

And though it had to be at least three kilometers away, if not more, Shaila could clearly see someone standing there, wearing a very dark outfit, something that looked like it came from…Weatherby’s era.
My God
.

“Weatherby?”

The man turned, and Shaila saw it wasn’t a uniform, but merely a very dark suit. And the pallid man wearing it wasn’t Weatherby. It was Andrew Finch.

“You!” Finch exclaimed, the distance between them suddenly immaterial and unimportant. “What are you doing here?” Then a thought crossed Finch’s face, and he grew wide-eyed. “You have the Tablet.”

“We do, but Stephane is infected,” Shaila replied. It was the only thing she could think of. “Something possessed him. The Martians from your world.” She felt like she was shouting through gauze, even though her voice sounded very normal. And she was surprised, at such a distance, that she could see his face so clearly. It was so much older than she remembered. Lined, weathered, worn.

“Venus,” Finch said. “They’re focusing on Venus.”

He suddenly looked wearier, sicklier. It was jarring. Shaila struggled to concentrate. “What? The Martians? Why Venus?” Shaila demanded.

“Souls. There’s a soul in him. That’s what they need. Souls!” Now Finch looked excited. It was as if he slipped on a new mask every time he talked.

“I don’t get it. Souls? What are you talking about?”

Now Finch looked worried, urgent. “Go to Venus. Go to Venus!”

“Venus?!”

Suddenly, the green-white light flashed brighter behind Shaila, and a tide of billowing darkness—as if leaden clouds suddenly mushroomed into being—rolled up behind Finch. Then all was light and dark, somehow at the same time. And then dark.

“Shaila! Talk to me, Shaila!”

Shaila opened her eyes to see Diaz hovering over her, looking worried. Then it occurred to her she was flat on her back.

“General, please step away,” came another voice. It was Julie, sounding surprisingly commanding and in charge. Diaz faded from view, replaced by a masked and gloved Julie.

“What happened?” Shaila murmured.

“Easy,” Julie said as she waved a diagnostic sensor over Shaila’s head. “Yeah, it looks like the Cherenkov radiation isn’t staying there. It’s fading,” she called out.

“Same with Durand,” Ayim responded from…somewhere else. “His levels are down sixty percent from before. But…yes, they are still there.”

Shaila edged herself up onto her elbows. She was on the floor of the lab, next to Stephane’s cot. “I touched him,” she said. “I touched him, and…”

“And you started shouting at someone,” Diaz finished. “So was Stephane. It was freaky as fuck. Who were you shouting at? We heard you say ‘Weatherby.’”

This puzzled Shaila. “I wasn’t shouting. I was talking to…well, I was talking to Andrew Finch, actually.”

“Come again?” Diaz said, perhaps a little louder than was necessary.

“Finch. From Mars. And he knew we have the Emerald Tablet. He…he told me to go to Venus.”

Diaz looked over at Julie and Ayim, who both gave the general a very neutral look. Shaila had seen it many times before on the faces of doctors and soldiers alike:
Fuck if I know, boss. I don’t like it any more than you do.
“All right, Jain. Let’s get you on your feet.”