The Forever Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

onto their faces. Nathanial did not like the sound of what was being said. He found himself wishing for the simpler days of working on aether propellers for Her Majesty’s Navy, before he had been enlisted on that fateful mission to Luna oh so long ago it seemed now.
    “Oh, Nathanial, I do not like this,” Annabelle said. “What could possibly be occurring? Maybe there is a lack of oxygen on board, causing us to have these dreams?”
    It was a very real possibility, Nathanial supposed. One they should at least look into to be sure.
    3.
    STEAM HISSED VIOLENTLY from a gauge, its freedom short lived. Fenn hurriedly quelled the leakage; he had spent so much time in the engine room of Esmeralda that he had become synchronised with the engine to a near uncanny degree.
    He walked over to the rear of the room to check the boiler, its large bulbous shape dominating the cramped room. A loud clanging sound rang out, the vibrations being felt from the floor. Fenn span around, nearly tearing himself from the magnetic grip of his shoes in the process. His hand lunged at a nearby balustrade to steady himself.
    “What the bloody…?” He cut himself off, quickly realising that had the noise been caused by someone entering, they might not take so kindly to his language. He spent most of his time alone in the engine room, so he’d got used to saying such things with only himself to hear. He called out. “Is anyone there?”
    There was no reply, but through the dispersing cloud of steam a form could be seen, though not clearly enough for him to identify his visitor.
    “Professor?” He moved over to the figure, waving the steam out of his way with a flailing hand.
    A large noise, sounding like an eagle’s cry, burst forth from somewhere behind Fenn. He flinched, covering his head with his arms. A pipe must have ruptured. He doubled back and rushed to where he calculated the noise had come from, but he saw no leakage or breaks.
    He checked pipes at the rear of the engine room, craning his head up, down and around to try and spot any cracks but there was no damage.
    He turned back to the person who’d entered the room, expecting to be able to see them clearly now the steam had dissipated some. He shook his head. There was no one there. He put the noises down to being over-tired. He had been on shift for over ten hours now, no wonder his mind was so tired. Perhaps he could ask the professor to relieve him for a spell?
    No one worked such long hours in Sovereign ’s engine room, the chief wouldn’t let them. Fatigue must be working at his mind. That, and other things. But no sense in adding guilt to weariness. Best to get back to work. What was done was done. Any ordinary man would have done the same, surely.
    Wait; there was a noise again, this time from outside the room. He made his way to the door to investigate.
    4.
    FOLKARD LOOKED OUT through the vastness of the aether at a particular shining dot that, when observed closely, irradiated the tiniest hint of red. They were well into their journey now but still had around three weeks of aether travel remaining.
    He really did wish for there to be more for him to do on the flyer. Countless hours of piloting Esmeralda had become such a gruelling duty. He thought about how exciting the prospect of a hulking Russian ironclad coming into view would be, but shook his head to disperse those thoughts. Entering the realms of imagination and fantasy would not do when on duty.
    He was snapped out of his vacant gazing into space by the sound of footsteps approaching. He wrenched his head around, to see who it was. Was it Miss Annabelle? Even with the lack of gravity, the men of the ship were not ones to tread elegantly; these steps sounded light.
    He observed the frosted glass panel that was set in the middle of the tightly sealed door to the control deck. There was no figure to be made out through the thick glass, not even the usual distortion of light that occurred as someone