Steamoon Episode 2

CHAPTER TWO

A Journey To Mars

The Sulu King’s hold, it turned out, was far from empty. In the main compartment they found bales of cotton, bolts of silk, and boxes of spices. In the smaller hold they found even more costly commodities: eighty chests of opium and sixty tons of coffee. Thaddeus estimated the value of the whole cargo to be in excess of £10,000. When Rufus expertly cracked the safe in Don Soloman’s master bedroom they found gold and jewellery worth another thousand. Even more interestingly, careful study of the ship’s star charts showed a course plotted to a hitherto unknown asteroid, a secret hideaway, perhaps, for the pirate king?

After much needed sleep and taking turns in the splendour of Don Solomon’s bathroom, it was not until the mid-afternoon that the company finally reassembled. When they had all gathered, Gong Ho stood up and slung his canvas bag on one shoulder.

“I think we should go see Plofessor Brack and try to find Holder Prace,” he said. “The man is illitating, but he is still a comlade.”

Samantha did not raise her eyes from the floor, but she finally seemed to find her voice.

“And I must see Uncle Charles. He must have been so worried.”

 \* \* \* \* \*

An hour later saw the friends arrive at the safe-house. In the sitting room they found Holder Place nursing a gin and tonic, quite unhurt. He modestly refused to say much about his own adventures, although he let it be known that a dozen or more tongs were ruing the day they ever tangled with Holder M. Place esquire. The five then recounted their adventures, punctuated by astonished and delighted exclamations from Charles Darwin and Gillmore Black.

So engrossed was Thaddeus in the retelling of events and the discussion as to what to do with The Orb, that it was only when Samantha lit the gas lights that he realised how much time had passed. It was already nearly six and another fog was rolling in.

“This is for you Thaddeus.” Sir Charles was holding out a green-bound book to him. On its spine he saw in golden letters “Ectoplasmic Life by Charles Darwin.”

“Your new book Charles! In print at last!”

“A very tiny number for the first impression Thaddeus. I fear the public are not ready for the work yet. Still, I hope you may find it of some use.”

“Thank you Charles – I shall study it very closely.”

Samantha was standing at the window. She spoke quietly but at her words silence fell suddenly on the room.

“I think someone is watching the house. A man is standing opposite who was there when I closed the curtains half an hour ago.”

Black rose quickly and, turning down the light, took a sidelong look up and down the street.

“I fear the enemy has found us. We had best arm ourselves.”

Going to the fireplace he took down a pair of fine kukris in polished black scabbards. He turned to Tolly and Rufus.

“These belonged to Harrison-Smith. He was a North-West frontier man like yourself Toliver, and used these to deadly effect in his time. You are a handy man with knife, Rufus, see what you make of this.”

The others now turned and took down other weapons that hung on the walls. Gong took a fine pair of nunchaku and twirled them expertly. Thaddeus picked up an old cricket bat lying on the mantle piece and hefted it thoughtfully.

“Is this a weapon, Gilmore, or just a memento?”

“That is Dr Joshua Anderson’s old bat; carved of sacred wood. He weighted it with lead and found it very effective against Deep Ones.”

Walter tossed up the cricket ball he found next to the bat and caught it.

“Anything special about this Professor?”

“No; just my old cricket ball.”

Rufus turned from beside the window where he had been scanning the street.

“There are five of them. Two opposite, one to the right, at the corner on the far side, and two making their way towards us on the near side from the left. I think there may be more out there, but can’t be sure with this bleedin’ fog.”

There came a sharp rap from the door, which opened directly into the front room. The company froze for an instant, and then Gong Ho stepped forward, straightened his jacket, and opened the door.

A man stood on the steps, dressed in top hat and cape, lounging on a silver-topped cane. He held out a card, nonchalantly in his greyly gloved hand, and opened his mouth to speak.

There was a blur of movement and Gong Ho’s fist crashed into his foppish face, knocking its owner back down the steps and leaving his hat for a moment suspended in mid-air.

“Negotiation concruded.”

The Chinaman was about to shut the door when Tolly stepped past him and, taking one polished boot in hand, slid the senseless visitor inside. Quickly going through his pockets he produced a revolver, which he unloaded and returned, and a wallet containing several golden-edged cards.

Sebastian X. Fortesque-Smythe
Artistic Agent
Enquiries c/o Boodle’s
St James Street

“Anyone know this man?”

“Some cat’s paw of the Golden Dawn, I imagine.” Said Black.

Fortesque-Smythe began to come round. Tolly and Gong hauled him to his feet, and Rufus opened the window.

“Not today thank you!” Balled Tolly, and at that Gong flung the man headfirst through the open window into the street. Rufus tossed his hat after him.

“No flamin’ ticket.” He added.

Black had taken down an ornate bow from the wall and placed an arrow to the string.

“They won’t wait long.” He said.

Toliver now wedged the heavy table against the door and knelt behind it, his Adams revolver in one hand, kukri in the other. Rufus slid behind the window curtain on one side of the door and Thaddeus took up position on the other. Gong, his expression calm, stood as if concentrating on some inner source of strength. Walter, checking on the two sticks of dynamite in his coat pocket, took up his Webley and the cricket ball and headed for the stairs. There he overtook Sir Charles carrying an enormous elephant gun, and together they opened the window overlooking the street.

As the fog thickened Walter saw two figures rush across the street and hurl themselves against the door, just as two more darted to join them from the left. There was a splintering crash but, braced by the heavy table, the door held. Now shots rang out as the attackers blasted off the lock and the next instant the door was torn aside.

Tolly saw gun barrels and white faces appear in the opening before him, Fortesque-Smythe, he saw, was to his right. Tolly promptly fired at the man next to him, narrowly missing. An instant later Fortesque-Smythe thrust his revolver over the makeshift barricade, directly at Tolly and pulled the trigger. There was a click, and then the blade of Thaddeus’s sword-stick flashed down, cutting into the wrist and all but severing the hand. The cultist reeled backwards, collapsing into the street.

Just as Thaddeus was recovering his position he froze. The second attacker had shoved a sawn-off shotgun around the door-jamb. The man grinned as he levelled the weapon. But before he could fire he spun to the side, flinging up his gun to protect his face. Rufus had slipped un-noticed out of the window and now sprung at the attackers from behind, slashing the gleaming kukri down so that it sank deeply into the man’s torso, just below the neck. The cultist collapsed in a welter of blood. The third attacker was reloading a shotgun, but the fourth levelled a revolver at Rufus. Something whistled overhead and the man staggered, as Walter’s fast-ball delivery caught him neatly in the sternum.

Looking across the street Rufus saw to his horror a rifleman taking careful aim at him from the corner opposite. The cultist and his target stared at each for one long heartbeat. Then - a blast of smoke, and the rifleman was reeling backwards, covering his face in his hands. Rufus realised that, whether by the grace of Lady Luck or because the occultist was forgetful in the care of his weapon, the gun’s bolt had burst when he had tried to fire it.

But the man with the pistol was recovering himself and the other was clicking shut the breach of his reloaded shotgun. Rufus saw a point of sparkling light flare out in the darkened window above and dodged away, diving back towards his window.

Walter’s stick of dynamite landed some six feet from the door, neatly between the two occultists who looked down and then exchanged a single dumbfounded glance before the blast dashed them apart amid a welter of smoke and a deafening boom.

A strange silence followed. A few pieces of shattered glass tinkled at they fell belatedly from their frames. Thaddeus climbed over the barricade and scooped up a shotgun lying by its former owner. The man was not dead but too badly injured to be of further threat. He had a nearly-full box of cartridges in his pocket. Rufus picked up the sawn-off shotgun and hefted it. He found it more to his liking.

Inside the house Gong Ho turned to see Gilmore Black holding out a small silver box decorated with Chinese dragons.

“Take this Gong. It is Dragon Balm, the last twelve doses. It has wonderful healing and strengthening properties.”

Gong took some Balm for the gunshot wound he had received capturing the Sulu King and gave some to Tolly who had also taken a bullet in the chest. Rufus had been wounded too, but he shrugged the oriental medicine away.

“If I need it I’ll let you know.” He muttered.

Standing in the street, Thaddeus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. At the edge of his vision three bulky forms were advancing through the fog. As they neared a gaslight he could make out dark hats and heavy greatcoats, but the faces remained somehow in shadow.

“Gentlemen. We have more company.”

“Their human servants have failed, now they come in person.” Said Black.

Tolly and Gong stepped over the ruins of the door to stand next to Thaddeus and Rufus. The figures were lumbering closer now. Glancing behind him, Gong saw a fourth bulky figure was approaching from the other direction. Suddenly he knew the thing was not human, but horribly, utterly, alien. And in that moment of realization the Deep One’s mind lashed out and a torrent of black horror flooded into his mind. Summoning all his strength of will, Gong tried to push the hideous force away. For an instant he thought it must overwhelm him, but with a final effort he thrust the blackness away.

Then he could see it clearly, in the flickering gaslight. It gaped at him; great opaque eyes staring, and huge fish mouth yawning. It paused, as if surprised not to have overcome its foe, and Gong leapt forwards, smashing his heel into the creature’s bloated neck, and sending it tottering backwards, wind-milling its long arms to keep it’s feet. With a jolt Gong felt a surge of horror at the touch of the thing’s watery flesh, and as he landed, catlike, he had to fight down the bile rising in his throat.

Above him, Walter squeezed the trigger of his Webely. Bullets struck the thing’s greatcoat and burst out the other side. But the hulking form merely swayed at the impact, and lumbered forward once again.

Thaddeus now dropped the shotgun and hefted his cricket-bat as he stood on the doorstep. The first of the three figures in front of him lurched suddenly towards them, and he caught a waft of its foul fish-stench. Fighting down an irrational sense of revulsion (had he not dissected all manner of unpleasant anatomy?) he raised his bat. Foul as these bloated tramp-things might be, he would see what a sharp blow to the head would do.

Tolly knew the Deep Ones for what they were and made a charge for one. But a ghastly blackness gushed into his mind and swept all before it. It was as if icy tentacles were pressing into his brain, sliding into the deepest recesses of his mind, searching out his core. With an animal desperation he thrust them way and ran, blindly - away from the invisible tendrils that sought to root in him…

Rufus felt the familiar warmth of the Elder Sign fighting back the black mind of the Deep One in front of him. With an effort of will he flung the thing’s thoughts back into its revolting face. Levelling the sawn-off shotgun in his left hand he let it have one of the barrels in the face. Twitching sideways, the creature was caught by shot, and halted for an instant - long enough for Rufus to leap forward and slash with his kukri, sinking it deeply into the ghastly jelly of its neck. The creature writhed back and Rufus wrenched his blade clear of the clinging flesh with a sickening liquid sound.

For Tolly the blackness suddenly gave way and he saw the face of Thaddeus, slapping his cheek.

“Toliver! Come on man! Pull yourself together.”

Turning, he saw two of the Deep Ones converging on Rufus, who slashed again at the one facing him, finally severing the ghastly head from its shoulders so that its bulk fell twitching and flailing to the floor, mutilated but clearly far from dead. The horror finally seemed to overwhelm Rufus, who covering his face with one arm as if to ward off some invisible blow, bolted back through the window behind him. A Deep One lumbered after him, raising a heavy arm. Something flashed past Rufus’ head and Gilmore Black’s arrow buried itself in the thing’s shoulder. The Deep One turned away, suddenly oblivious to it surroundings, and started pawing at the wooden shaft buried in its flesh.

Tolly and Thaddeus now leapt down the steps. Before the distracted Deep One could unleash its mind-blast, Tolly slashed through its leg with his blade, severing the limb and stretching the monster writhing on the cobbles. With the sound of a fish slapped onto the slab Thaddeus’s cricket-bat smashed into the face of the other creature, sending it stumbling back. He turned to see that the shock of contact had been too much for Toliver, the downed Deep One’s mind smashed through his weakened defences and sent him clawing his way blindly back towards the house in terror.

Thaddeus now found himself alone on the doorstep. Some yards away Gong Ho continued to hammer blows into his opponent as if it were some ghastly punch-bag, but the creature refused to fall and showed no signs of real injury. The other unharmed Deep One now turned on Thaddeus, spreading its huge arms and baring rows of razor teeth. The one that Tolly had maimed slid towards him using its arms.

At that moment there came another cry from Walter in the window above.

“Fire in the hole or whatever!”

Thaddeus scrambled back through the doorway as the dynamite dropped fizzing from above. Gong Ho dived and rolled swiftly away in the opposite direction. The stick brushed its greatcoat and landed at the very feet of the central Deep One, and a moment later the creatures vanished within a black burst of smoke and a thunderous detonation. As it cleared they could see four misshapen forms in greatcoats lying amid the dust and debris kicked up by the explosion.

Black shot an arrow into one of the recumbent forms. Thaddeus turned to him desperately.

“Something to cut with, Gilmore…” He was saying, just as Samantha thrust an assegai into his hands.

“Try this, Thaddeus.” She whispered.

The sound of the blast had brought Rufus to his senses. Shaking his head he jumped back though the window, kukri in hand. Tolly was already in the street ahead of him. Stunned, it seemed, the Old One only twitched as he hewed through first the other leg and then the thing’s arm-limb, before Rufus slashed its head off. But the effort of will was too much and he eventually gave back, white and shaking.

Thaddeus went to work with the assegai, swiftly slashing and sawing through the monsters’ blubbery flesh. Swopping his nunchakus for a kukri, Gong turned to help with the butchery.

The shrill sound of police whistles came to their ears, through the fog. Tolly stooped over Fortesque-Smythe. His leg had been clearly shattered by the explosion and his right hand hung from the wrist by a shred of skin, but he was still breathing. Tolly hauled him into the house. Thaddeus snatched up one of the severed limbs of a Deep One, and they retreated indoors, putting the ruined door back in its place as best they could.

When, some moments later, Police Constable Thomas Hadley arrived on the doorstep he was met by a scene of carnage. The bodies of three men lay there along with several tattered coats and hats covered in piles of what appeared to be fish giblets. He looked up to see a set of outraged faces glaring at him from the doorway.

“What took you so long!”

“We could have all been murdered by the time you arrived!”

“Hooligans fighting wars in our streets! Blowing each other up and damaging our house with dynamite – it’s an outrage!”

 \* \* \* \* \*

When the bewildered police had finally withdrawn with somewhat apologetic expressions and a set of witness statements, the companions decided it was time to relocate before Inspector Barker came to pay a visit. Two hired Broughans took them and their luggage to the spaceport and the entire League made their way onto the SS Appleby, carrying the sedated Fortesque-Smythe between them.

Thaddeus had sewn up the severed arteries and splinted the shattered leg as best he could. What with his injuries and many liberal doses of laudanum Fortesque-Smythe clearly had no idea as to his surroundings. When Tolly gently questioned him the cultist became convinced he was talking to “Uncle Horace.”

“Whatever happened, Sebastian, how did you get sent into such harm’s way?”

Fortesque-Smythe was an artistic agent and painter, it seemed; his work inspired by the wonders and horrors revealed to him by the cult. The Gods must have the orb back, he explained. Lady Marsh, the leader of the sect (or at least Fortesque-Smythe’s section of it) had commanded them to obtain it by any means, to hasten the Glorious Day when the Gods would return. Angels had been sent to aid them… divine messengers of the Gods. Already, the God had answered their prayers, had appeared at the rituals. Soon the godchildren would come, Lady Marsh had said, the new heroes, the demigods. She was to be a new Europa or Alcmene, and the cult would reign supreme until the Great One Himself returned to bring them to paradise…

After a while the ravings started to repeat themselves and as the night wore on Tolly felt they had learned as much as they could from what was left of Fortesque-Smythe. Dosing him heavily with laudanum, the following morning they took him to Bethlem Hospital at St George’s fields and admitted him as Sebastian, younger brother of Mr Samuel Lathenstone of Surrey, who being out of his mind had thrown himself under a horse and plough the previous day. Tolly explained that the family now sadly felt unable to care for his brother, but was determined to pay for the very best care. Having advanced five years worth of fees and seen him to the infirmary, the party returned to the ship.

In the meantime, Walter had been questioning his business contacts. Rufus had suggested that the Isle of Dogs might make a good location for Appleby Industries. Might there be some site to be bought there?

It turned out that Clay and Sons was a boiler-making firm that, it was rumoured, was struggling to stay in business. With a large site on the Isle of Dogs including warehouses, foundry and a metal-shop, it might make an ideal base for their business ventures.

After a hearty lunch prepared by Samantha in the ship’s galley, Walter and Thaddeus paid a visit to Mr Clay and Sons. The company had clearly seen better days. The factory, built for some sixty workers, seemed now to employ only about fifteen. They found the white-haired businessman and his two sons seated in a rather chilly office above the shop floor. It seemed that they might be prepared to sell up, at a price of around £40,000 and an undertaking to keep on the existing staff.

By way of answer Thaddeus opened a leather bag he was carrying and took out the Atomium mini-boiler, which he placed on the table.

“Gentlemen, you are looking at the next great technological breakthrough of our age. When you see this in operation you will be delighted to agree out terms, which will be a sum of £10,000 and a 10% stake in our new enterprise in return for your company and an agreement to expand its workforce.”

And so it proved to be. The Clays watched with astonishment as the tiny boiler whirred into life. They were delighted with the offer to stay on as general managers of the site. A bottle of Champaign was somehow found and opened with a bang: a toast to the launch of Appleby Enterprises!

 \* \* \* \* \*

That evening found Rufus seated in the cockpit of the SS Appleby. He eased the craft clear of the port buildings and, following Thaddeus’s navigational directions, flew the spaceship West, out over the Irish Sea. From there they circled and, as night fell, they flew to the sleeping coast of Cornwall and dropped a well-armed party to escort the orb to Bodmin Moor, where Darwin and Black had purchased a disused lead mine and the old lodge that stood above it. De Lank House turned out to be a rather grim stone building set amid the desolation of the moor. But it was warm enough after the fire had got going, and the friends enjoyed a meal from the well-stocked larder. The basement led to a lead-lined room in which Gilmore had set a heavy lead box in which the orb was stored. After a brandy, Thaddeus asked if he could have a word with Sir Charles in private.

“It’s Samantha, Charles. I have been thinking about what is to become of her.”

“Speak your mind Thaddeus. There is no reason for her… disgrace to become a matter of public knowledge, but I cannot very well go on as if nothing has happened.”

“Well, to be frank… She is plainly not happy with you Charles. But I could take her on as a research assistant. She will get a chance to travel, to meet more people…”

“You are right. I have been rather selfish. Very well, I agree Thaddeus. And the best of luck.”

The two men returned to the company. Samantha brightened when she heard the news.

“I would accompany you on your travels Professor?”

“That’s right.”

“And you don’t mind that I have been such a silly, silly-head?” She asked.

“Not at all, my dear.” Said Thaddeus. “Not at all.”

 \* \* \* \* \*

The following week saw a whirlwind of activity at the newly launched Appleby Industries. New plant and machinery arrived in a constant stream through the gates where sign painters were busy working on the modest by stylish presentation of the new enterprise. The booty from the Sulu King had paid for the new factory to be outfitted with the finest equipment.

Inside the best of the workshops Thaddeus and Walter were putting the finishing touches to their new atomium boiler prototype, carefully designed to weigh 400 lbs, less than half the weight of the smallest type yet known. Next to it stood a brand new Parsons Condensing Steam Turbine, shipped in from Newcastle that morning. Thaddeus finished the connection and stood back. Walter pulled back the throttle on the atomium pile and the engine hissed into life.

“Very little vibration Walter!”

“A hundred horsepower already Thaddeus, and she’s at half power!”

 \* \* \* \* \*

Tolly walked into Wilkinson’s Swords of Pall Mall, the finest sword-makers in England. He would like to place a rather unusual order, he explained. The very best sabre blade they had, and the hilt should be made of the piece of wood that he had brought with him. Also, he explained, the handles of both of these kukris, Gong’s nunchakus, and Thaddeus’s swordstick should be made from the same material. The price was high, but Tolly did not hesitate to pay.

The adventurers had become curious about the effect of the wooden arrows and cricket bat, made of ‘sacred wood’ on the Deep Ones. Black then explained that certain rare woods were found to have unusual effect upon the ectoplasmic creatures. Unlike most material objects, the wood appeared to irritate and distract them if it entered their flesh. Furthermore, the material did not conduct their ghastly psychic powers as most objects seemed to. In some places, and in more ancient times, men had somehow been able to find these woods – described as “True Yew” or so forth - and used them for particularly important or sacred objects. Thaddeus decided that the six-foot shaft of the Zulu Royal Assegai could provide the wood they needed. Four feet of the shaft would provide enough wood for their weapons and still leave the spear with a handy stock. Walter had trimmed enough True Willow from Dr Anderson’s old bat to cover two sticks of dynamite with large splinters, and devised a clockwork timing mechanism to detonate them in case they needed to use explosives against the creatures again in the future.

 \* \* \* \* \*

Meanwhile, Rufus had been putting his mind to the problem of security. Before him stood a line of ragged street urchins, each holding the sixpence he had just given them.

“Those are the rules. You answer to Biggins here, and Biggins answers to me. Keep your eyes peeled and there’ll be another sixpence in it. I’ll be sending people to snoop around to check you are doing your job – got it?”

They chorused agreement and filed out. Rufus looked at the twelve-year-old Biggins.

“A fair enough start. Here’s your shilling.”

“Fanks Mister Rufus.” The boy was gone.

There came a knock at the door. A youngish woman in bright if somewhat garish attire entered and flopped down on the sofa by the window.

“Well, I’m here Rufus, like you said.”

“Thanks for coming Molly, it’ll be worth your while. I hear you have a certain banker as a client ?”

“Oh yes, Mister Clifford-Grey… Nigel.” She replied smugly. “He’s a bit old for me but you know ‘ow it is.”

“See here – we need to spread the word of a big opportunity for bankers to make money. There will be a tidy sum in it for you if you say that another client is about to make a fortune investing in Appleby Industries, see? You could say he’s going to set you up with a flat and money of your own, or something, and you’ll have to stop seeing your old clients.”

“I couldn’t see ‘im no more on account of becoming a propa kept woman? Oh I like the sound of that Rufus, it might make the old goat give me a better offer.” She let out a bark of raucous laughter. “Alright then. I’ll do it for a tenna.”

After Molly had left, Rufus picked up his hat and took to the streets. In Limehouse he made his way into Chinatown and stepped into a side-alley to knock at a heavy door. A peephole opened and he was admitted by a smiling Chinaman.

“Mister Lufus. Wang Chung is waiting for you.”

It would not be true to say that the tong boss smiled as Rufus entered, but his expression became somewhat less stern.

“Please to sit. You have a business proposal?”

Rufus produced a ball of opium and passed it to the Chinaman who examined it with a seasoned eye and nose.

“That’s a free sample. I have eighty chests for sale. Are you interested?”

“A lot of opium to shift – but this is top quality. All right. £100 a chest.”

 \* \* \* \* \*

The day of the Great Appleby Small Boat Thames Race had dawned. Six craft floated at the starting line by a wooden gantry strung out into the river, smoke trickling up from the small conventional steam engines in all but one. The rules had specified that the boats weigh less than 1000 lbs – much too small to contain any existing atomium boilers. The copious advertisement and large prize money had attracted a good deal of attention. And then there were the persistent rumours that Appleby Enterprises was in possession of some extraordinary new invention.

In the raised box on the quay behind the brass band, Walter stood and raised his revolver. The shot rang out and the racers were off! Except that one of the boats did not move. The pilot of the Little Apple was still finishing his beer and chatting to the spectators on the quay. Eventually the madly shouting crowd managed to bring is attention to the other craft that were surging up river. The pilot elaborately replaced his glass and sauntered to climb into his own boat. A moment later there was a surge of white water and the Little Apple accelerated away from the bobbing gantry. There were cries and gasps of amazement as the new craft sped towards the rest of the field, quickly eating up their long lead. But the other boats had already reached the half way point and were turning and Rufus, dashing the spray from his eyes wondered for a moment if he had left it a little too long before starting. The next instant he had rounded the buoy and now he opened the throttle up and let the engine roar. The little craft surged ahead, seeming to almost lift clear of the water, and streaked past the other boats like an arrow. Walter and Thaddeus exchanged triumphant glances as the canon boomed to mark the winner.

There was consternation in the crowd. They had been promised a surprise but this exceeded all expectations. The box was suddenly full of important men, jostling for position.

“Mr Appleby, I am Commodore Herbert Harrington and represent the Admiralty. I would like to place orders for your new motor.”

“Professor Carruthers! I simply must have one of those boats!”

Mr Clay could hardly keep up with the orders he began to note in his book. The Air Ministry wanted 25 engines for testing, the Admiralty a hundred. The queue of private individuals seeking to place orders stretched down the steps.

A small but portly man who had arrived at the rear of the queue a few moments later had somehow managed to appear at the front, where he snapped his fingers in such a way as to create a moment of astonished silence.

“Monsieur Apple-by! Your attention please sir. I am Bertrund Francoise-Dupont a representative of the renowned Pere Amedee Bollee of Le Mans!”

Walter raised an eyebrow.

“How nice to meet you sir. But I am currently talking to the commodore…”

“You must take my order Monsieur, it will be the most important one of your career! You will have the honour of supplying power plant to the automotive carriages of the genius Pere Bollee – the envy of the world…!”

Thaddeus was intrigued.

“Are you proposing a joint venture?”

The little man made a face and strange coughing noise.

“Joint? Impossible! At most a five per cent stake!”

At this moment a leather-clad and slightly oily fist collided with the Frenchman’s moustachioed face and sent him skidding down the steps on his well-padded behind.

Rufus had pushed the goggles up onto his leather pilot’s helmet and wiped his slightly sooty nose.

“Not today thank you!”

 \* \* \* \* \*

A fortnight later and The Appleby was lifting off once again from its moorings. Appleby Enterprises had got off to an exceedingly good start, Thaddeus reflected as he studied the navigational charts spread out on the stateroom table. With the advance payments for a hundred and fifty Mighty Apple Mk I engines at a price of a thousand pounds each (ten times the manufacturing cost) they had been able to acquire the three mines in the world that produced the molybdenum needed for the secret heart of the miniaturised reactors - Henry Carnehan’s extraordinary neutron-reflecting material.

He was also reasonably satisfied that the design of the Mark I protected its secrets; with a set of carefully-designed decoys and false clues, and a cocktail of chemicals to mask the ingredients of the all-important reflective coating that reduced critical mass of atomium. Things were going well enough for the Five to decide it was time to explore the unknown asteroid marked on Don Soloman’s star chart.

The secret destination was at the very extremity of the SS Appleby’s one hundred and fifty million miles range, and some fifty million miles beyond Mars. This would leave them stranded in the asteroid belt unless they could take on fuel water, so Walter had filled the cargo hold with a thousand tons of extra water to give them a fighting chance of reaching Mars if for any reason they failed to refuel. Since they were likely to have to stop at Mars either way, however, they had thought it wise to have some legitimate business to conduct, and had visited the Royal Space Exchange a few days before to look for shipping consignments.

Although there had been plenty of orders for bulky goods such as flour, they learned, there was very little by way of small, high value shipments of the sort they were looking for. But there was a solitary commission – two hundred cases of fine wine for the Comte de Montlosier, the French Consul at Port Victoria, the main British settlement on Mars. The fee would at least cover their costs, so Walter agreed on the spot. As he turned to leave he nearly collided with a huge man whose bulging jacket indicated preposterously well-developed musculature.

“Ah you gowing to Maahs?” The figure rumbled, staring down intently. “I came to myself in a dream and said ‘Get your maahs to aas,’ vich made no sense.”

“Not today thank you.” Walter had tipped his hat to the lunatic and left.

Now, as they lifted up above the London skyline, Thaddeus saw ticker tape falling and dozens of smaller craft rising above them. Steam horns were blaring in the distance, and above them he could make out the gleaming bulk of the celebrated new spaceship RMSS Titanic leaving London on its maiden voyage. The record-breaking 45,000 ton atomic steamer had been the talk of the town. The first of a new generation of spaceships of unprecedented size and speed, Titanic was set to usher in a new age for the British space empire. The ship was due to make the run from Mars to Titan, in the orbit of Jupiter, in an unprecedented 8 days, bringing the farthermost reaches of the Empire into regular trade and communication.

Rufus followed the great ship until they were at the edge of the atmosphere, when the little craft turned back, and then set the engine room indicator to full speed ahead. The big new ship was certainly fast for its huge size, he thought. Even with both its engines on full, the far smaller (6,500 ton) Appleby, built for speed though it was, took the rest of the day to pull ahead of the juggernaut.

 \* \* \* \* \*

Two days into their voyage found Thaddeus on the bridge. They were about half way to Mars and he was enjoying the spectacle of the darkened cosmos. Amid the stars he could make out some of the streaks of white vapour left by the atomic steam jets of passing spacecraft, formed by the water plasma condensing to form trails of reflective ice crystals.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw one such Jetstream suddenly stop. That could only mean that the engines of some spaceship had cut out. He trained his binoculars on the spot. Yes, unmistakably, the jet stream came to an abrupt end. He picked up the speaking tube to the cockpit.

“Rufus, I think a spaceship needs help. We must go and investigate. Come about to baring 236.”

But as they approached the end of the vapour trail they could find no sign of a stricken ship. They swept the darkness with their searchlights, but to no effect.

Rufus matched the course of the jet stream and accelerated.

“I’ll try following their course.”

Tolly made his way down to the gunroom. It would do no harm, he reflected, to have the howitzer manned just in case… On the bridge the others searched the blackness around them to no avail. Just when Walter decided to give up the chase, Rufus caught sight of something.

“There – moving and not bloody floating! It looks like a ship.”

Skilfully he brought the Appleby onto a parallel course and called for full jet steam. Thaddeus was astonished. How could the mystery ship be changing course? Without its atomic jet it should simply be drifting. But as they neared the spot they found the elusive vessel had vanished once again. Cast about as they liked they could see no hint of her. Then Tolly caught a glimpse of something sliding past in the other direction. He spun the heavy gun, took swift aim, and pulled the landyard.

“To starboard! Look for my flare!” He yelled down the speaking tube.

On the bridge the watchers whirled and saw, caught in the sudden light of the star shell, the silhouette of a ship. Small, long and black, the craft was unmistakably under power. Gong Ho dashed to the other howitzer and loaded it.

Despite nearly loosing it several times, they began to close the distance. With uncanny luck and skill Rufus managed to match every twist and turn of the unknown craft. There was no doubt that it was trying to evade them.

“Gotcha!” Called Walter from the bridge. He was operating the largest of the searchlights and had finally caught the craft in its beam. To his surprise he saw it turning towards them.

“Um… it seems to be coming for us.” He said.

Through his binoculars, Thaddeus saw a puff of vapour from the bow of the approaching vessel. Then he saw a flash of movement as two dark missiles raced towards them. A teeth-jarring impact threw each of them to the floor as something crashed into the hull of the ship like some titanic fist. An instant later came another mighty jolt as something detonated close to the ship.

Somewhere they heard the hiss of escaping air. Thaddeus dashed down towards it. In the cargo hold he found a huge dent, as if made by some giant hammer. Some tiny cracks were leaking gas and he patched them frantically as best he could.

Toliver cranked around his howitzer and slammed home a high explosive shell. So it was war, was it? Very well…

His shot burst so close to the target, that he figured he could see the ship twitch from the impact. In the other gun-room Gong saw the fall of Tolly’s shot and took careful aim. ‘Use the force of calmness,’ he repeated to himself the motto of his Qi Gong master, and pulled the lanyard.

The shell struck home just as the black ship began to turn. With a flash, the tail vanished and the next moment the craft was tumbling over and over into space.

Rufus drew up level with the somersaulting craft.

“We’ll have to board the bugger if we want to take her under tow.”

 \* \* \* \* \*

Tolly drifted between the two ships, for a moment in contact with absolutely nothing. Then his hand found the railing of the conning tower, and his magnetized boots clumped onto the surface of the mystery ship. Gong was already opening the hatch, and Tolly pushed himself down into the opening.

The interior of the spaceship was awash with floating litter. Clearly the craft’s gravity generators had been knocked out. Amid the detritus drifted the bodies of four men. Although their features were horribly distended by the vacuum, Tolly saw by their faces they were oriental. Gong and Thaddeus clumped down beside him, and Walter peered through his glass bowl helmet from the hatchway above. Thaddeus pointed to another hatchway leading into the ship, and Gong span the handle and pulled it open.

They were met with a sudden burst of air and litter, flinging the heavy hatchway open. There was a flash, and they saw a figure in a space suit had fired at them. The bullet struck Gong Ho (??) in the chest, puncturing his suit.

Tolly slammed the hatch closed, and Thaddeus turned desperately to help. Gong (??) had his finger pressed against the hole but gas was clearly jetting out and he was already beginning to gasp for air. Thaddeus pulled open the suit’s puncture repair kit. Thinking swiftly he grabbed the rubber solution and simply squirted it into the hole. Miraculously, the stuff set almost instantly into a solid plug, and the flow of air stopped.

Tolly now advanced to the hatch and drew his sabre. It was a superb blade, the handle made of sacred wood from Gilmore Black’s royal assegai. The hatch swung open but there was no sign of the occupant. Tolly dived through, to see the man standing to the side of the door. Before he could level his revolver Tolly swept his sabre down. The Chinaman flung up his gun to protect his head, but with all the power of Tolly’s mechanical arm behind it, the keen blade sheared through the firearm (??). The next instant the blade bit home and the man’s suit blasted out a jet of escaping air and freeze-dried blood.

As they set about a search of the depressurized ship Thaddeus was amazed by what they discovered. The secret of the vessel’s invisible source of motive power was revealed when it became clear that much of the craft was given over to the production of gas, whose release would leave no visible trail. The ship had clearly also been fitted with a conventional atomic steam jet engine, but this had been blasted away by Gong’s remarkable shot.

“This boat is made for stealth.” Rufus remarked. “It is even bleedin’-well painted black to make it hard to see.”

“A stealth boat. Yes - a good description.” Said Walter.

In the bow they found two large tubes and objects that looked like the torpedoes developed for maritime warfare. It was one of these, no doubt, that had struck the Appleby but evidently failed to explode. Everywhere Thaddeus found the characteristics of German engineering. The papers and charts were in Chinese, much of the information coded. None of them mentioned Germany by name, but Gong found references here and there to meng you “Allies,” one of these mentioned technical support available at Point 10. There were two locations that seemed to be numbered 10, and they took careful note of these for further reference.

Seven of the eight dead crew-members were oriental. The remaining body, dressed in an engineer’s boiler suit, was of a European. Gong examined at the wrist of one of the orientals with an expert eye.

“These are tong markings. But they are not all from the same triad.” He said.

“Who would have men from different tongs working for him?” Tolly asked.

“I can only think of one – Fu Ming Fan Munchu.”

 \* \* \* \* \*

It was five days later and the SS Appleby was moving steadily through space, the S-Boat attached by a cable to her stern. Standing on the bridge Thaddeus, trained his binoculars on an asteroid approaching ahead.

“That’s it. Its green tint suggests it has an atmosphere. Soloman’s secret base.”

Rufus brought the Appleby into a high orbit and called for Gong to release the cable to the S-Boat. Free from its burden the ship now began to descend.

“How big would you say it was, Thaddeus?” Asked Walter.

“A thirty mile diameter and a surface area of some three thousand square miles, according to my calculations, about the size of Lincolnshire. Clearly the earth-like gravity is created by its neutronium core.”

“Hang on.” Said Rufus. “We’re entering the atmosphere now.”

The ship bumped and shook gently, and at first they could see only white haze. But then they broke clear of the cloud and could see verdant jungle stretching below them to the uncannily curved and foreshortened horizon.

“Look there – to our left.”

Tolly was pointing at some rectangles cut into the jungle. As Rufus brought the craft around they all could make out a landing strip, a few fields, and a cluster of buildings.

“All right, I’m putting her down. Everyone to their places.” Said Rufus.

Walter retreated to the master bedroom where he lay on the bed, Webely trained on the door. Tolly and Gong joined Ying and Tong at the steps to the conning tower, each dressed in a cumbersome space suit. The three orientals were bare-headed, but Tolly had on a brass and glass helmet, shadowing his face.

They saw figures emerging from the buildings and hurrying towards the landing strip, as the Appleby descended. Tong had told them that the base and its crew of ten were under the command of a certain Mae Wing, one of Don Solomon’s numerous paramours. Rufus swung the craft around and waved expansively through the glass to the figures assembling below him. He hoped it was the sort of gesture Don Solomon would have used. Since he was closest in build to the deceased pirate prince, Rufus was dressed in one of Solomon’s splendid silken gowns and matching hats. Thanks to Tolly’s painstaking preparation, his face was swathed in white bandages from which tufts of what looked like black beard emerged. Distracted, perhaps, by his stage-acting, Rufus braked rather late and the craft thumped down hard onto the ground. Rufus sat for a moment, making sure he could be seen, and then slowly turned and made his way aft.

Meanwhile Gong had emerged onto the conning tower with Ying and Tong. A watchful Tolly brought up the rear, staying close behind the two Malays with his revolver to hand but out of sight.

“Mae Wing. Mae Wing! Come aboard. The boss wants to see you in his cabin.” Gong called in Cantonese, with his best impression of the Singapore twang he had heard when the crew-members spoke the language. Tolly nudged Ying, but the man remained silent. At last Tong called out something in Malay.

From the little crowd below emerged a striking figure of a woman clad in trousers and a silk shirt. She wore a red bandana and had a pistol thrust into the sash about her waist. She called up some question in Malay. Tong answered and she began to make her way up the gangway, followed by two others. It seemed that Tong, at least, had not played them false.

They clambered down into the state room, Tolly making sure that his face could not be seen.

“We were attacked. The boss was injured but he’s OK.” Gong was saying.

There was a rapid exchange in Malay. Tong pointed towards the master bedroom. Mae Wing strode forward and opened the door. For a moment she paused, dumbfounded by the sight of Walter with his gun trained on her. The next instant she was shouting a command and drawing her revolver from her sash.

The Webely thundered for a moment and the woman spun to the floor. The fight was short and sharp, and taken by surprise the pirates stood no chance. Fifteen minutes later the five survivors were negotiating a surrender agreement with Gong and Tong.

“Don Solomon is dead. This operation is under new management. Your payment will be double what it was before.” Gong was saying.

“OK, but we were due a rotation back home.”

“You cannot come back just now. But we will rotate you within a month, provided you will help us find your replacements.”

“OK. Deal.”

They found, to their relief, that there was plenty of water. A stream flowed next to the landing strip, and a large water tank on stilts made for a swift refuelling. A little way away stood a large and comfortable colonial-style villa for the exclusive use of Don Solomon and his mistress. Inside they found well-furnished and spotless rooms, cooled by rotating ceiling fans, and a small collection of books, mostly romances. In the basement was a small atomium power plant and several crates of wine. There was also a safe. It was of Chinese manufacture and this time Rufus let Gong Ho demonstrate his lock-picking skills. Inside they found gold and jewellery worth about a thousand pounds.

The largest of the other buildings was a workshop, and Walter was glad to see it neatly stacked with cannibalized spare parts, including a smallish atomic steam jet.

“Do you think we could fit that onto the S-Boat Thaddeus?”

“I dare say we could, but it would take a week or two’s work.”

It was agreed that Thaddeus would draw up plans for the work and leave it with the technicians formerly in Solomon’s employ. In the meantime they might as well fly to Mars and make their delivery before returning to fit the engine to the S-Boat, which they left in orbit.

After a pleasant dinner, cooked for them by Samantha in Solomon’s well-equipped kitchen, the adventurers boarded the ship and lifted off as night fell on the tiny world.

 \* \* \* \* \*

They could see just a sliver of the moon Deimos above the horizon of the red planet when Rufus passed the large British warship and began his approach Port Victoria. Conditions were clear and he found his way down easily enough, bringing them down to land alongside the other vessels standing in the large Space Dock.

Many of the craft were naval, and a small military guard escorted the customs clerk who came on board to check their manifest. The Comte do Montlosier was to be found in the French consulate in the south quarter, he explained.

Half an hour later and the Five were crammed into a large rickshaw–like cab driven by a chinaman but drawn by one of the weird Martian beast of burden, called a thoat. The vehicle would certainly have collapsed under the weight of its occupants had they been on earth, but the carriage did well enough in the lower gravity of the Red Planet. They approached a large colonial mansion, its white washed walls sparkling in the bright Martian sunlight. It was surrounded by a high fence of iron raining, and through these they could make out well manicured lawns, palm trees and fountains. At the entranceway two French guardsmen lounged on their rifles.

“Qu’est que vous voulez? What is your business?”

“My card.” Said Walter. “We have brought delivery of the Comte de Montlosier’s wine shipment.”

The five were quickly admitted and shown into a huge study. The Comte proved to be an agreeable, dapper man in his fifties.

“Monsieur Walter Appleby of Appleby Industries?”

“The very same, sir.”

“What an honour is zis. You are most exceedingly welcome Monsieur! It is a delight for me to receive such a celebrated guest. I read about your marvellous invention, sir, and I am very glad zat you have decided to visit Mars.”

“Ah, very nice to meet you…” muttered Walter, somewhat taken aback by the warmth of the welcome.

“You see we have a great many technological opportunities here on Mars, Gentlemen. Many developments have been limited by the size and weight of available power-plant. Wiz your new engine the sky is – as they say – ze limit, yes?”

Thaddeus was intrigued.

“For example…?”

“For example ze heat-ray. As you know, ze Martian art of manufacture is not entirely clear to us. And zen zere are ze hydraulics and so on… Ah but I see you are fatigued from your voyage! You must rest, and let us meet again when you are refreshed. I recommend the Hotel Clarence. Mention my name – they will find you a very nice room.”

“Thank you Monsieur. Till we meet again. We shall have the wine delivered to you immediately.”

“My thanks Monsieur – adieu!”

 \* \* \* \* \*

The Clarence Hotel did indeed have a very nice set of rooms for them, with an airy balcony and a breath-taking view of the vast red desert that stretched before them. As a precaution, however, Thaddeus and Rufus decided to spend the night on the ship.

Note: Further adventures of Tolly, Rufus, Thaddeus, Walter and Gong (and possibly Holder) will be forthcoming… hopefully in April.