The Venusian Gambit (37 page)

Finch opened his mouth but hesitated, whereas Stephane knew the drill. “They know that Rathemas is inside me. While their shaman did his…something, ritual, whatever…we saw what happened back on Mars long ago, when the Xan attacked. Althotas ripped the souls from his
own followers
and hid them elsewhere. The Venusians know I have one of the souls, and they believe Finch is the…doorway? Corridor? Conduit! Yes, conduit.”

Finch shook his head dismissively. “I am not possessed by any power, so how can I be the conduit? It is folly.”

Beside Weatherby, Anne gasped suddenly. “Oh, Lord. I see it now. Oh, Finch, I see what you’ve done!”

Hands on his hips, Finch turned on Anne. “What, then? What have I done, except to further Mankind’s knowledge of the Great Work beyond even that of your late husband, then? Tell me, for everyone thinks I’m naught but a criminal in this!”

“Not a criminal, but a fool, and a damned fool besides,” she replied, spitting the words. “You entered
Maat
every time you employed a working that used knowledge gleaned from
The Book of the Dead
. That underworld was, in part, where the souls Althotas ripped from his followers were stored! So you, over the years, have been chipping away at that opening, just as surely as Berthollet has in animating his legions. In fact, you yourself have traveled through
Maat
in order to speed yourself and our ships through time and space!”

“And you have placed me within reach of it as well,” Weatherby added, realization dawning on him. “Dear God, Finch, I am complicit in this as well!”

Finch started to argue the point, then stopped. “Oh…I see it. Dear God in Heaven, I see the connection now,” he whispered. A moment later, his knees gave way and he tumbled onto the ground.

“Yes!” Stephane cried out. “You’re the doorway, and Rathemas wants to use both of us to walk through! Only here, on Venus, where it’s overlapped, can he do this now!”

Anne looked up at Weatherby. “I fear we have walked straight into whatever Althotas’ plans are. And the Venusians are too scared to help us put things right.”

Weatherby surveyed the lizard-men before him with growing agitation. “Then we must do it without them, damn them to Hell.”

Elizabeth stepped over to him. “Father, please. Allow me to stay and argue for us. If we act without their support, all chance of alliance, now and in the future, will be lost!”

“And what do I care?” Weatherby thundered. “They prefer to cower in the trees while the fate of the Known World hangs in the balance! Meanwhile, Cagliostro and Berthollet
have
their precious memory vaults. There are renegades from the future running about transforming Venus, and the warlord Althotas is nigh! We must assault the French and put an end to this—now!”

Tears welled in his daughter’s eyes. “Please, Father. I wish to stay. I can try to make them see reason. I have performed the
dul’kat
and they cannot harm me now because of it.”

Weatherby cast around, frustrated, then laid eyes on Philip. “Lieutenant St. Germain. You will remain here with your stepsister. If they so much as lift a finger toward either of you, I command you to secure her safely and make for the beach with all haste. Do you understand?”

Stunned at Weatherby’s anger, Philip could only nod as his stepfather turned on his heel and stalked off away from the village, a collection of 19
th
and 22
nd
century compatriots looking after him in confusion and concern.

CHAPTER 22

January 30, 2135
May 29, 1809

W
eatherby stalked the beach impatiently, waiting for men and matériel to be brought by boat to shore. He had not slept and had eaten very little since the morning, and could see that all around him were shying away from him and his anger.

Except for Shaila Jain.

“She’s going to be fine,” Shaila said. “She’s a super-smart kid.”

Weatherby waved his hand. “I’ve no doubt as to Elizabeth’s safety at this point. The Venusians are a primitive sort, but the honor of the Va’hak’ri is not in question. And I’ve great faith in Philip as well. Should the Venusians seek vengeance after we engage the French, I dare say he is quite capable of removing her from harm.”

At this Shaila looked troubled. “Hadn’t thought of that. She checked in over the comm about an hour ago. All’s well, but she’s still getting stonewalled. You want one of us to go get her?”

“No, Lieutenant Commander. I’ve no doubt the French will meet us on the field with superior numbers. It is likely they have spies within the Venusian camps. All of the European powers have links to the various tribes the Venusians have assembled. When we take the field, I believe your mechanisms will be critical to winning the day. I suggest you ensure the Emerald Tablet is secure aboard one of your machines. And please ask General Diaz to ready them. I hope to leave in an hour’s time.”

Shaila looked rather unconvinced, but nodded. “Aye, sir.”

As she walked off, Weatherby looked on after her. It would not be seemly in His Majesty’s Navy for a lieutenant—or lieutenant commander, which was a wholly unusual rank—to speak so frankly to an admiral. Yet he found himself thrown back in time to when he was a mere lieutenant, and she was the elder of the two. Furthermore, she was not technically under his command, and although he could press the matter, for she was indeed of the Royal Navy of some place and time, he felt it a losing cause.

There were more than enough losing causes to be had, it seemed.

A fresh-faced lieutenant approached and saluted smartly. “We’ve emptied the ships of marines and have supplemented their ranks with able seamen, my Lord Admiral,” the man said—what
was
his name? Weatherby could not recall.

“Cannon?” Weatherby asked.

“If you wish to depart forthwith, my Lord, there will be but eight, along with their crews. Any more would require dispatching the boats another time, and loading them has proven to be more difficult than anticipated.”

“It will have to do,” Weatherby said. “Prepare the men and cannon to break camp and march as soon as possible.”

The young man saluted and ran off, leaving Weatherby feeling old and unsuited to the task ahead. His exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, for it was well past midnight now, and they would not reach the clearing and the French lines until after dawn. Gar’uk had brought coffee from
Victory
to fortify him, but even his favorite beverage seemed only to add to his nerves rather than his wakefulness.

“You are frustrated, my friend,” sang Vellusk, who somehow had managed to come up behind Weatherby unnoticed, despite his prodigious height.

Weatherby turned and did his best to be diplomatic, knowing what a premium the Xan placed on manners. “I am, my wise friend. I apologize. In most of the battles I have fought on behalf of my King and Country, my goals were very clear. And even on Mars, we knew full well that we had to interrupt Althotas’ ritual, and had the means to do so. But here…here, our course takes us off the map.”

Vellusk nodded as he began to walk alongside Weatherby. “I should like to say something wise and helpful here, but I am most aggrieved that I am unable to do so,” he sang. “I have consulted with the Lady Weatherby and Doctors Finch and Durand regarding the Emerald Tablet and
The Book of the Dead
. There are, of course, a variety of ways in which they might be used in conjunction with the memory vault, but I feel as though we are missing something. We are unable to say for certain what the French plan may be.”

“And what if we destroy them?” Weatherby asked. “Be done with it. Would that not stymie the French?”

“I would advise against it,” Vellusk sang, notes of concern and sorrow in his melodies. “We discussed this as well, but what if their loss is the edge the French seek? Or General Diaz’ former colleagues, for that matter? Without knowing, such a course would be rash indeed, and very possibly fatal.”

“They could be the key to Althotas’ masterstroke,” Weatherby countered.

“Or the key to his undoing,” Vellusk sang.

Weatherby slumped a bit. “You are, of course, quite right. And I’ve no doubt the impulse to destroy these items stems simply from my desire to be done with all this.”

The admiral kicked an errant stone across the beach in frustration.

“You are a wise man, Thomas,” Vellusk sang. “Much wiser than some of my compatriots, I am afraid. We have worked hard to ensure that the partisans among us—those for whom the ways of war are welcome—are being dealt with. And we have given your Wellesley some small aid that should nonetheless turn the tide against the foul revenants. But when it comes to this battle, I must leave it in your hands. We Xan have our own conflicts to resolve amongst ourselves. And with that, I shall take the Lady Anne’s advice and depart.” The Xan then laughed, which sounded like wind chimes upon a spring breeze. “Besides, if you are indeed marching into battle, even if I wished to march with you, I shall be quite useless.”

Weatherby’s first instinct was to insist otherwise, but he quickly realized that it was merely the truth; Vellusk was the product of a pacifist society, and he really
would
be in the way. So he simply thanked the ambassador for his counsel yet again, and managed to extract himself from the Xan’s ritualized farewells in just short of five minutes, which likely was a record of some sort.

Just as Vellusk departed, Weatherby’s attention was drawn to the northern edge of the beach, where one of the bipedal mechanical beasts came crashing through the jungle. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, and in the preparation of his forces, he hadn’t noticed that one of the three metal giants was missing. He tapped the button on the headset he still wore. “Who just arrived, and from whence?” he demanded.

“It’s Diaz, Admiral. While you were setting up your guys, I did a little recon to where the Virgin Galactic ship was reported. It’s there and it’s empty. Greene and Huntington are on the move, but no idea where.”

Weatherby sighed. On top of everything else, two more individuals possessed by the very ghosts of Mars were loose somewhere in the blasted jungle—a mishap simply waiting to happen, no doubt. “Very well. I request you prepare your vehicles for battle as best you can. We shall be leaving shortly.”

“Roger that, Admiral. Diaz out.”

With a sigh, he tapped the button again, having become rather used to the instantaneous communication the headset afforded him. He thought of calling Elizabeth on the device, but his facility with these “comms” was not up to the task. Shaila had assured him that she would make contact regularly. It was another thing, small but so very, very important, out of his control.

Weatherby walked over to the small camp table where Anne was working with Finch and Stephane. “Please tell me, my Lady, that there is some small progress to report.”

“No, love, we have little to add to what we already know,” Anne replied, her eyes on the table with the Tablet and
Book
before her. “It seems Dr. Durand is much discomfited by proximity to these objects, and tells us that he is loath to touch them directly, for the creature inside him, this Rathemas, apparently wishes him to do so.”

Weatherby looked at Stephane, who stood quietly, his arms cradled, face drawn. Finch, meanwhile, seemed agitated, his hands fluttering around a pencil and notebook but with precious few notes. “What say you, Dr. Finch?”

“Damn it to Hell, I’ve not the slightest,” Finch said, tossing the pencil and notebook to the table. “Something tells me that these will play such a critical role in the hours to come, but for good or ill I cannot say, and the notion of it is vague intuition, nothing more.”

“That’s not good enough, Doctor,” Weatherby said sharply.

Finch seemed as though he was about to retort, but thought better of it. “We shall keep working,” he said simply.

Weatherby shook his head. “There is no time. We have eight cannon. We shall need them to produce as much destructive power as you’re able by the time we arrive at the clearing. Suspend your work here, and join Lady Anne in preparing for battle. Dr. Durand, are you able to operate your…vehicle?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied steadily. “If you feel this battle will help get Rathemas out of me, I’ll do whatever you say.”

That prompted a small smile from Weatherby. “Your commander is General Diaz, not myself, but I thank you nonetheless. I suggest you report to her and ready yourself.”

As Finch and Stephane took their leave, Anne paused to address her husband. “Tom, are you sure this is the right course? I do not know what meeting the French will accomplish.”

“No, I am not sure!” he barked. “I am sure of nothing! I know not what will happen. But even if the answers aren’t in the damned Venusian vaults, at least we will know that much, and can find answers elsewhere. It is the only course I can see, so I shall embark up on it, madam!”

Anne’s eyes flashed in anger, for it was a very rare thing for Weatherby to be so curt with her. “Sir, do not mistake my question for doubt about you!” she said quietly, but with no small amount of venom. “We simply do not know what will come of this, and some of these men here will die because of this course.”

“Men die all the time because of my orders!” Weatherby hissed. “And I thank God Almighty that he has seen fit to haunt me with their faces as I sleep, for otherwise what sort of monster would I be if I did not care? Do not come to me with men’s lives, madam, for I have each soul weighed upon me, and yet I still stand, and still do as I must. Would you cripple me with indecisiveness now, at the hour when decisions are hardest?”

Taken aback, Anne nonetheless stood her ground. “If you must know, Tom, I fear that you have embarked upon this course to assuage your own guilt, not to add to it with men’s lives. More and more, the French draw closer to the Crown in Edinburgh. More and more, we are at our wit’s end. And yet, I ask you, what will this onslaught accomplish that a reconnaissance would not?”

“It will result in fewer French!” Weatherby raged. “And yes, that is a horrible thing to say, but if I can remove even a hundred of these damnable revenants from the Known Worlds through this action, then I shall do it! We will fight through them to get to the vault because it is the right thing to do! And then we shall figure out whether or not we can save all of Mankind or whether it shall be in vain!”