Red Sands of Vulcan

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right. The following takes place shortly after the climax of “Horizons of Deceit Book I”.

Friday October 3^rd 1890.

The events that followed happened with such speed that I can barely recall them. I didn’t even have a chance to look upon the face of the lady with the knife in my back; I was soon set upon by ruffians, coshed on the back of the head, and unconscious.

I came to sometime later—I did not know how much time, only that it had been some hours since I was later informed that I had been smuggled out of Syrtis Major to the nearby principality of Meepsoor. I was not offered the chance to explore this small town, and indeed was told I would not like it if I were able to. Although largely under British protection, Meepsoor was beginning to question their choice of allegiance, worried that the war in the south with Oentoria would soon lead to their doorstep. Of course none of this really mattered to me at the time, I was more concerned with my captors and what they wanted of me. There were two of them, a man and a woman. Considering their dress, the finest of silks and cloth, I knew I had been right when I earlier considered the woman a lady. Lady Hyperion, as she had introduced herself, idly waved a small pistol around as she talked, careless of the damage such a weapon could cause. He husband, Lord Hyperion, stood behind her, watching her with admiration through his monocle. At first I refused to answer any of their questions, except to give my rank and position. This seemed to irritate Lady Hyperion.

Lord and Lady Hyperion

“We know who you are, and this is of no interest to us. What we wish to know is about your experiences on Luna, what you learned from these Drobates we have heard so little about.”

They were well informed, considering the secrecy of the British involvement on Luna, and of course my own incarceration. I refused to tell them anything.

“A great pity indeed,” Lord Hyperion said, his voice rich, the French accent seeming to be little more than an affectation. It was hard to tell if they were truly French, or simply pretended to be. “Perhaps you have heard of the Followers of Decay?” I shook my head. The local culture was not a speciality of mine. “They are more commonly known as the Worm Cult. Ah, I see this is a name familiar with you. And well it should be—the tales of their depravity is the stuff of myth, even to us men of Earth. Kronos, our leader, was once a priest in the Worm Cult, and has ways of making a person talk. Ways you, Mister Stevenson, would not wish to experience.”

I believed him. Even now I am haunted by the tales told to me by Professor Stone shortly after my rescue from the Drobates—tales of his own experiences at the hands of the Worm Cult. As if what the Drobates had done to me was not enough. Not a night has gone past since Luna that I have been able to sleep without my dreams being invaded by the experiments conducted on me by the Drobates. Doctor Greever, chief medical officer on Endeavour, believes the dreams will eventually fade, although he does not think my forthcoming tour of duty will help. Perhaps he is right, or perhaps facing my fears will be the tonic I need?

“We need to know all the Drobates know of the Red Sands, and where on Mars it was buried.”

Red sands? I have never heard of such a thing. Despite being called the Red Planet, I had seen little evidence of any red sand on Mars during my short time there. I told them this and was instantly stung on the cheek by the back hand of Lady Hyperion.

“Insolent fool! The Red Sands is a weapon, a mind-controlling substance created by the Drobates and the source of the war that destroyed Vulcan. We have recently learned that these Drobates of Luna are the original inhabitants of Vulcan. You must have heard of the Red Sands?”

How could I make them see reason? The Drobates did much to me, put both my physical and mental capacity to the test, but they never talked directly to me. Never discussed anything of their past—indeed, as we later learned the Drobates of Luna were ignorant of their past. It was Doctor Grant who had learned of their connection to Vulcan. That they had created a mind-controlling weapon came as little surprise to me, after all the Drobates communicated telepathically, and my exposure to them revealed a latent telepathic gene in myself.

I shook my head. “You have my word as a member of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy that I know nothing of these Red Sands.”

“Then perhaps we shall have to find another way to make you speak the truth,” said another voice, this one sounding quite different from any I heard before. It was clear that English was not the native language of this person. From the darkness stepped a cloaked figure, a cowl covering his face, although his hands were on display. I had seen such hands before. It was a Martian, although which kind I could not tell. I supposed this had to be the mysterious Kronos. “Lady Hyperion, pass me the cylinder.”

She walked over to a table and picked up a cylinder of brass, each end studded with brilliant gems. She handed it to Kronos, who gently unscrewed one end.

A Drobate

“The Red Sands of Vulcan,” he said, and shook out onto the palm of his other hand a few red crystals, so tiny I could only see them by squinting. “According to the ancient manuscripts we uncovered in a lost temple in Egypt, the Red Sands, over years of misuse, created infectious hatred and derangement. This led to a war between different factions of Drobates, which in turn began the cataclysmic war that created the asteroid belt. But taken in small quantities, the Red Sands can have a potent effect on the mind of those who ingest them.”

With a nod from Kronos, Lord Hyperion stepped forward and gripped my head in his vice-like hold. I tried to struggle, but he had incredible strength. Kronos, with only one hand, forced my jaw down and deposited the crystals into my mouth. Before I had time to spit them back out he clamped his hand over my mouth and nose, blocking the air waves. For a short while I resisted, feeling the coarse texture of his alien skin on mine, but soon the need for air was too much and I found myself swallowing the Red Sands.

The results were, for Kronos and his brotherhood, disappointing. They continued to question me, but I still had nothing to offer them, and soon they realised that the Red Sands had no effect on me whatsoever. I have spent much time in the last two days trying to understand why. Perhaps Kronos was mad, and this story had as much weight as the lost city of Atlantis? Or, and I think more likely, the Drobates did something to me that inured me against the effects of their ancient weapon? It is a question to which I hope one day to discover an answer—perhaps on the mission ahead.

Realising I was useless to his cause, Kronos was in favour of killing me and Lady Hyperion, a professional assassin, prevented him from doing so, explaining that I was expected and could not be missing for too long. It would not do to arouse the suspicion of the Royal Navy at this point. They spoke quietly, but did not account for the sharpness of my hearing—another result of the experiments done on my by the Drobates. I think, sometimes, that I don’t listen so much with my ears as with my mind. The Brotherhood of Luxor needed the Red Sands if they were to remove the Earthers off Mars, and they could not alert the authorities to their presence just yet.

And so, once more, I was coshed senseless and smuggled back to Syrtis Major. By the time I awoke the second time it was dark. I returned directly to the British quarter, intent on reporting the threat to Commander Armstrong, who was also enjoying a small bout of shore leave, but by the time I reached the British quarter I decided to keep my own counsel.

Saturday October 4^th 1890.

I am not entirely sure why, even as I write this, but I feel to speak out now would serve little purpose. For some reason my instinct tells me it is the right thing to remain quiet on this. As I understand it, several experts on Luna and the Drobates will be joining Sovereign on this mission, and I wish to learn more about the Drobates history before I recount my experience with the Brotherhood of Luxor.

It has been two days since my encounter, and I have made discreet enquiries. It seems rumours of the brotherhood are rife, and some say it is connected to Kereeque, a former priest of the Worm Cult who vanished seven years ago. Could this be Kronos? I feel it is likely, in light of the fact that Kereeque created the Ground Cleanser crusade with his Canal Martian disciples—their purpose, to remove humans from Mars. A goal, I have to say, that sounds much like what Lady Hyperion had said. I fear that there are troubled times ahead for mankind, but for now I will not be a part of it. My immediate future lies beyond the asteroid belt, and not on Mars…

To learn more about the Brotherhood of Luxor, purchase a copy of “Red Sands” by following the link to the right…

The Thieves Way

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right. The following takes place shortly after the climax of “Horizons of Deceit Book I”.

So much has happened to Mars in the past 124 years, it is often easy to forget that in 1890 it was still being colonised and subjugated by the European powers. The English, French, Germans, Russians, Belgians, and Japanese had all established colonies there, and American traders were everywhere. The reasons were plain – lift-wood was a valuable commodity, and the growing importance of aerial navies had made many countries desirous of establishing their influence on Mars. Moreover, in addition to lift-wood there were other Martian products that brought a good price on Earth, and the huge Martian population was a ready market for European manufactured goods. Not all Martians welcomed the people of Earth, chief among them were the Brotherhood of Luxor and its mysterious leader, Kronos. What follows is the first part of a two-part account, a rather typical account, of the state of play in Syrtis Major during those early days, given by Able Seaman Erasmus Stevenson.

Mars, viewed from Phobos

Thursday October 2nd 1890.

I am beginning to think that visiting the worlds of our Solar System is not good for my health. I still remember the joy and pride I felt at being assigned to HMAS Sovereign early last year, to be serving on board the flagship of Her Majesty Aether Navy was a great honour indeed. But since then I have been captured, tortured, and experienced things I am certain I would be saved from had I remained serving on the ships of Earth’s sea.

HMAS Endeavour made Marsfall earlier than anticipated, allowing us a small amount of shore leave before Sovereign was due to arrive. We carried supplies with us, to assist in the refit of Sovereign in preparation for her long mission ahead. Supplies and personnel transfer–one of which was to be me. My presence was requested by Commander Bedford himself, due to my experiences on Luna. I cannot say it was a tour of duty I was much looking forward to–not least of all because of the mission’s connection to the Drobates of Luna.  However, I was promoted in rank one level on condition of my transfer, and as someone who hopes to become an officer one day, I could not refuse orders. I have enjoyed my service on Endeavour these past months; Captain Ferguson is a strong leader and I have learned much from him. I will especially miss serving with Commander Armstrong, a noble and resolute officer, one of the finest I have ever met. When I finally returned to active service I did not expect a position on another Royal Sovereign-class battleship, but my familiarity with the design came in very useful. Much least did I expect that I would be transferred back to Sovereign so soon. I disembarked Endeavour, happy for a chance to explore the British-run city of Syrtis Major. It is strange to think, but I was walking in alien sand, the first person in my entire family to step foot on an alien world. Certainly I spent a considerable amount of time on Luna, but that was merely the Earth’s moon, but Mars…truly another world!

Syrtis Major

I should have remained on Endeavour!

After a brief tour of the bazaar where I purchased a local trinket for my little sister, I headed to the British quarter where I was hoping to grab a pint with a few other seaman from Endeavour. The quickest way was a short cut through the infamous Harbour District–although, of course, I did not know it was infamous then, neither did I know why. I suppose I should have guessed by the colloquial name for Old Harbour Road; the Thieves Way. I was new to Mars, barely been there a couple of hours. In what way could Syrtis Major possibly be worse than London? I soon saw. It was on Old Harbour Road that I witnessed the kind of villainy one expects in the alleys of London by the dark of night, but here it was happening in plain sight. People were being beaten senseless just so the miscreants could take whatever possessions they could, no doubt to later sell at the bazaar. Occasional British Army soldiers walked the road, but they studiously ignored the happenings of Thieves Way.  I was, to say the least, dumbfounded by such wilful ignorance. I was of a mind to intercede on the behalf of one particular fellow when I felt a sharp object dig into the small of my back.  My hand, already in my jacket pocket, gripped tightly on the present I had purchased for my sister. I was a member of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and I had survived worse at the hands of the Drobates than anything a mugger could inflict upon me. He was in for a mighty shock, should he continue to push his luck.

“I would advise obedience, Monsieur Stevenson,” said the delicate tones of a French lady.

A lady! Even now I can scarce believe that a member of the fairer sex would do such a thing, and worse that it should be a lady. And she was a lady–there was no doubting the cultured tones in her aquiline accent. Even at the time, while I felt the object dig ever deeper, piercing my clothes I felt sure, I wondered why would a French lady have heard of me?

“Kronos seeks an audience with you, and you would be must unwise to refuse.”

…continued tomorrow!

 

A Few Bad Men

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right…

Although Imperial Russia had a head start on the race to get beyond the asteroid belt, such a head start was not without its setbacks.  The construction of Imperator Aleksandr II was based on stolen blueprints–British blueprints. That in itself posed a problem. Although Russian engineers and designers were used to working with the designs of other nations (of note, the French), this was something new. HMAS Sovereign revolutionised aether travel, both in design and application. They were guided in their efforts by a man who had reportedly died on Luna at the end of 1889–the insane, but genius scientist, Vladimir Tereshkov–and this guidance came in the form of random, and often garbled, coded telegrams sent from a secret location in England. But this did not stop the Russians–it was imperative that they benefited from the discoveries to be found beyond the asteroid belt, that they beat the British Empire out there. The Tsar was tired of playing second place to the British Empire.

What follows is a sample from the private diary of Kapitan-lejtenant Petenka Trushkin, first officer of Imperator. It serves to highlight that not everybody involved in that fateful mission was a blinkered by the promises of power and position that Imperator signified. 

Tuesday October 7^th, 1890.

We are but one day from the asteroid belt, and already I fear for the success of our mission. If we fail it is not just the reputation of Imperial Russia that is at stake, but that of the Tsar himself! I have worked hard to attain my position, acting as a first officer on the most advanced ship in the aetheric ocean–even more advanced than the ship upon which it is based. Usually the first officer would be a captain-2nd-rank, but I have fought hard to take this position from less deserving officers. Some might say that position without rank is meaningless, but they would be wrong. I am second in command of the most powerful ship the Imperial Navy has ever built.

The power source of this great ship–a substance called aleksandrite–pushes it beyond design tolerances. Already we have had engineers all over the ship patching up damaged areas. It is as if the very structure of the ship is being compromised. I have taken my concerns to Kapitan Merkushev, but he insists that Imperator will serve. It should, we have nastavnik Tereshkov aboard, and it was he who stole the designs, he who communicated ways in which we could improve those designs, to redesign the modulation device he had originally built–all to include the use of aleksandrite. But all he does is sit in his cabin, endlessly scribbling notes in a language I have never seen before. I fear he is a risk to the mission, as is the kapitan’s yielding to Tereshkov’s every request. We should be using Tereshkov’s knowledge, his genius, to improve the ship as we go. But then I am forced to consider those–I am reticent to call them people–things used to enhance the power of aleksandrite. What has been done to them is an abomination, one Tereshkov is directly responsible for. Can I really trust the ship to a mind like his?

Perhaps once we have escaped the asteroid belt, and thus the reach of the British Royal Navy, we can properly address these things. The kapitan is focussed on proving the power of Imperator, showing the British Navy the might of the Imperial Navy. We have already intercepted heliograph messages intended to warn HMAS Tartarus of our trajectory. Normally we would alter our course–there is, after all, no such thing as up and down in the aether, no straight line by which we must travel. But Imperator continues on its course. We know that Navy vessels have been sent from Mars in an attempt to catch us, but if the mighty Sovereign could not sustain our speeds what hope does the usual Navy vessel have?

We do this for the Tsar. But I sense that is not so for everybody aboard ship–some seek glory for themselves. And it is those who will spell failure for this mission.

Posting

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right. The following takes place shortly after the climax of “Horizons of Deceit Book I”.

The WRNS was created in November 1887 as a result of heavy naval losses since the Navy expanded into the aether, resulting in a shortage of manpower for active naval service. Many sailors were based on shore and it was felt that they needed to be released to the ships, although their shore jobs still needed to fulfilled. As in the civilian world, it was felt that by employing women to do these jobs, the men would then be able to go to sea. The promotion of the Women’s Royal Naval Service was “Free a man for sea service”.

Initially, the Admiralty decided that only 3,000 women would be recruited and would mainly perform domestic duties, such as cleaning, cooking and serving meals. In the three years since, these roles have expanded into all areas of naval service, including postings overseas. But now, as 1890 draws to a close and with a new fleet of Royal Sovereign-class aether battleships being deployed, it has been decided that a limited numbers of Wrens will be allowed to serve aboard the aether fleet.

What follows is a letter from one such woman–19-year-old Sophia Davies…

Thursday October 16th 1890

Dearest Mama,

It has happened, what started off as a service to free up the men for the fleet has advanced into a new programme, initiated by some forward thinking men in the Admiralty. At last, members of the Women’s Royal Navy Service will be able to serve aboard naval vessels. Naturally only a select few have been chosen, a token gesture, but it is a start. The best news of all, I have been selected as one of those special few.

I cannot tell you how happy and proud I am–that a girl like me, from such humble beginnings, will soon be serving aboard the flagship of the Royal Navy’s aether fleet; HMAS Sovereign! Yes, dear Uncle Harry’s ship. And what’s more, I shall be working with him. My technical and practical skills will be put to use in Sovereign‘s engine room. I have heard so much about this ship–the first aether battleship of her kind. Uncle Harry has sent me numerous letters, expounding on the advancements in aether flight Sovereign has made. I simply cannot wait to get my hands dirty!

Yes, Mama, I can hear the sigh of disdain as you read this. I know you and father wanted me to marry the Hughes boy, but you knew I would never be happy running a household and raising children. It simply is not for me. I want to serve our glorious empire, not sit at home changing dirty nappies. Dear Gwyneth can do that if it so suits her–and I suspect it will–and perhaps she will find a rich young man to whom she can become wed. Fulfil your dreams through her.

I am sorry. But I hope you can be happy for me, Mama, because I will be an example to all the women out there who wish to be more than home builders, those who wish to do all the things men do. I am only one of six women who had been assigned to serve on HMAS Sovereign, and it is a very great honour. Please try to be happy for me. I leave England–I leave Earth–for Mars at the end of this month. It would be so wonderful to see you before I leave, if you can find the money to meet me. I have yet to be given the particulars of my first duty, but I believe I shall be away for at the very least a year, and so I would absolutely love to see you before I go.

I love you, Mama.

Your daughter, Sophia.

P.S. Now, officially, Ordinary Wren Engineer Sophia Davies–how lovely does that sound?

Forgiveness

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right. The following takes place shortly after the climax of “Horizons of Deceit Book I”.

Saturday October 11^th 1890

Dear Professor Stone

It has been several months since I last saw you, and I confess I have been putting off writing this missive, however I am about to return to active duty and I feel I am honour bound to write this to you. Not least to thank you and Captain Folkard for the good word you offered in my favour at the hearing. I do not deserve such support—especially not from you.

I need to offer my most sincere apologies for the events of June last. I know you showed understanding when you discovered my culpability, but you did not turn up at my hearing and so I can only assume that, now the dust has settled, that you find yourself less forgiving. I was given a singular honour when Captain Folkard assigned me to be the engineer on Esmeralda 2, to aid you in the secret mission for the Admiralty. I failed you, and I failed Captain Folkard. For the captain it was, one suspects, more a sense of professional failure—I am aware of the pride he took in his crew on Sovereign, one of whom I was proud to be. But for you it must have been a sense of personal failure, for in those months on Esmeralda 2 we fostered a friendship. Even now I can still recall the particulars of our first meeting in the engine room of Sovereign—you walking into me, disorientated by the steam. At the time I never considered I would become a friend of the man who designed the aether propeller governor (yes, I know you will insist you co-designed it with Doctor Grant, but the governor used on Sovereign owed more to your design than his original version). Further I never considered I would be assisting you in developing a more refined version of the propeller for a much smaller flyer like Esmeralda 2.

I have never discussed with any other those events during my final journey on Esmeralda 2, as we neared Mars and encountered that aether tear. My betrayal of you sat heavily on my shoulders, but in those last moments, before Esmeralda was destroyed—and I, like all of us on that flyer, know it was destroyed—my only thought was that I failed my grandfather, the late Admiral Nicholas Fenn. I was, am, the first member of my family to serve in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy since his death; indeed, it was the stories he would tell me as a child that inspired me to seek a career in service of the British Empire. It has always been important for me to succeed, to become an officer and honour my grandfather’s name, be his legacy. I failed him—betrayed my oath to the Navy and my friendship to you. But in that place I was visited by my grandfather and he told me to face the consequences of my actions, and hold to the truth that I only failed myself. My family was threatened, including my mother, his daughter. And so I had to protect them. What good is duty to one’s country if one is unwilling to protect those he loves above all others?

I hope that I can earn your forgiveness, and prove myself once more a loyal subject of the empire. I have, once more, been returned to active duty, although as punishment for my weakness of character, I have been held back one year and will not attain my position as able seaman for another year. It is a small price to pay—I believe I should be in irons now, or at least court martialled. That I am neither I must look on as a second chance. An opportunity to prove myself once more.

I have been reassigned to Sovereign for the long voyage ahead. This is good, for it allows me to work with the one engineer in the Navy who will not hold my indiscretion against me, and further it means I will be in a position to earn your respect and forgiveness. I will also be able to play my own small part in helping find Captain Folkard. Despite the scuttlebutt, I do not for a moment believe he would betray the Navy. He is ten times the man I am, and he would rather die than betray his duty.

Yours, in hope.

 Jack Fenn, Ordinary Seaman, HMAS Sovereign

Transfer

Historians Note; unless you are familiar with the document “Horizons of Deceit Book I” you should not read any further. Said document can be purchased by following the link to the right. The following takes place shortly after the climax of “Horizons of Deceit Book I”.

From: Commander Jeremiah Armstrong

To: Commander George Bedford

Friday September 26^th 1890

I have reviewed your request for the transfer of Ordinary Seaman Erasmus Stevenson from HMAS Endeavour to HMAS Sovereign. It is, I must confess, an odd request since Mister Stevenson has only served with Endeavour for six months after a period of convalescence following his harrowing experiences on Luna. I have made myself fully versant with your reports regarding your mission to Luna in December 1889 and am aware of your commendation for Mister Stevenson. I have also studied his service file, and am somewhat concerned regarding your request considering the nature of Sovereign’s forthcoming mission. I consulted with our medical officer and he assures me that Mister Stevenson is of sound mind, but is still recovering from his incarceration and torture at the hands of the Drobates of Luna. However, he is uncertain if further exposure to the Drobates will help in his recovery, and could, indeed, undo all Stevenson has been through.

Nonetheless, I have also received orders from Rear Admiral Cavor to meet your request. But I would be remiss in my duties as Mister Stevenson’s commanding officer if I failed to raise my concerns.

Mister Stevenson is, in the opinion of my boatswain and I, officer material and has a fine naval career ahead of him. Despite his experiences, he continues to throw himself into duties and performs above the expectations of this officer. We hope that his tour of duty on Sovereign will aid in his path to becoming a fine officer, and to aid this Captain Ferguson and I have agreed to promote Stevenson to the rank of able seaman, effective immediately.

My compliments to Captain Theobald and her crew. Endeavour will rendezvous with Sovereign at Mars on the fourth day of October.