Derelict Passage

By Suzanne Dome

Miss Rosemont had finally settled into her life as a teacher in a sleepy southwestern KS town. However, a summer trip to India proves fatefull when an ancient being recruits her for a mission to save all of humanity. Captain Ballentine and the crew of the curious airship, Somerled, join in as they are assailed by unusual technology, air pirates, and the British Air Navy. Together, they must stop a cataclysm that could destroy all of Earthly civilization--or lift humanity into an advanced technological existence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne Dome
• Release date: Nov 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005892838

Suzanne Dome

Suzanne Dome was a special ed para for years, and supports STEM education. Now a resident of rural New Mexico, she wrangles chickens when not writing or crafting. Seamstress, jeweler, artist, diabetic, tree-hugging, star-gazing, crystal-gripping Bohemian, in black.Short Stories: Last Star, Tree Row Howl, BOOMER, SaviorWork available in print(Amazon): Weird Wheat; The Scrounger Trilogy: Empty Space, Second Signal, End Transmission, Lotus of the Stars, The Hoof of Nessus, Derelict Passage, Welcome to the Mutineer's Odyssey

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Derelict Passage

Suzanne Dome

Copyright©2020

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Claire Tiwald for introducing me to digital art, and Sommer Sherman for their support in my search for a digital drawing tablet. As usual, my partner Jason has been an invaluable listener.

Prologue

An enormous airship shaded the baked desert of southern Turkey, her long half-cylinder fuselage still in the wavering air, the propellers silent in the dust and balloon partially deflated. Heat beat down upon the backs of the British troops, drowning them in their own sweat as they bent over holes dug by the locals. Every so often a troop would take a swig of hot, canteen-flavored water and swear, and every time the workers stopped digging during their prayer times and spread their rugs, the British would stand off to the side in the shade of their airships and spit on the hot, godforsaken land. The sound of shovels and pickaxes echoed off the walls of the vitrified mountains that surrounded the expedition.

I find something! Came an accented shout from one hole. I find metal!

Beneath Her Majesty’s Air Ship Indomitable, the second-largest warship in the entire fleet, Professor Lakin stood over a table covered in recovered artifacts from the dig site, many of which he could not readily identify and most of which seemed out of place. He glanced up to see from the corner of his eye the shovel of one of the local diggers flailed while the man clambered from his hole. Someone in a round belly turret targeted the man, but didn’t shoot. The long barrels followed silently.

What is that chap doing?

A plume of dust followed the dirty robed and bearded man from the hole and it appeared to Lakin that a section of the earth around it had begun to cave inward. Lakin refrained from running toward it and sent his assistant. The digger scrabbled across the sand, praising Allah that he had not fallen into the sink hole. Lakin’s tow-headed assistant waved to him from the edge of the hole. By the time the professor had reached it, Admiral Ballentine paced the circumference of the pit, examining its contents.

Wretched Scotsman, thought the professor. He’s much too nosy.

That he is, said an imperious voice inside his head. Lakin gazed over his shoulder to the metal-railed external deck of the Indomitable, where a cloaked figure watched all the activity through a spyglass. The shadows of the massive balloon and rotors that held the ship aloft obscured the figure’s details.

Lakin turned his attention back to the find and the nosy Scottish Admiral. The Admiral climbed into the hole, followed by several other officers and some more diggers. From the edge of the sandy pit, Lakin caught the silvery gleam of metal and darkness beyond one edge of the object, suggesting a cavern below. He shouted for more diggers to concentrate on elongating the hole into a trench to see what lay beyond this strange bit of metal. Then he climbed out of the depression and trudged back to his table of treasure, and scowled at the desert.

Lakin poured another glass of sherry. He hoped the object in the hole was what the Stranger wanted. This was his last bottle of alcohol, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this blinding heat.

It is a part, the voice assured him.

It took nearly a week to open the hole to its fullest and raise the object. All total, it was gigantic, metal and cigar-shaped, roughly half the length of the warship Indomitable, two pods in the front and two close to the rear. No one yet had any idea as to their function. They decided the flat surface and tower on the dorsal area indicated an observation deck and control station, but that was all guesses on the part of the Engineering Corps. An expert was sent for, someone Ballentine himself had consulted when the Indomitable had gone on her maiden voyage.

Several weeks later, Admiral Ballentine sat around Professor Lakin’s table with the assistant and his guest, Russian Rocketeer Yevgeny Strovitch.

What about Germans and Americans, they have plenty of archaeologists to spare, suggested the Russian.

I’ll not have cowboys looting the dig site, and Germany is in far too much turmoil. I can’t trust the politics of either one. Lakin slammed his tin cup down for emphasis.

This is far too gigantic a find, Professor. As soon as the word gets out we found something of this magnitude, the place will be crawling with other amateur treasure hunters whether ye like it or not, Admiral Ballentine said with an edge.

On behalf of the British Museum, this find may not be known by the uneducated public! This was found by Her Majesty’s men, and will stay under Her Majesty’s jurisdiction. It must be transported straight to Britain! Any further talk is useless. Good night, gentlemen.

The professor nodded curtly and stood, dismissing the glares of the other three at the table. Even Lakin’s assistant knew that this was too enormous to cover up for long.

To the side, the silent Indian engineer hovered like a wraith. He stared intently at the Admiral, having saved his comments. Yevgeny nodded at him, silently comprehending the other man’s thoughts. They pondered in whispers before also retiring for the night.

An alarm sounded sometime in the night, and the bell of the Indomitable rang through the clear desert air. Men poured from the ship’s ladders, and panicked diggers scrambled from their tents to see what was amiss. Officers banged on the Admiral’s door but couldn’t rouse him; they gave up and rammed the door in with one of the galley tables.

Ballentine was gone. His clothing, his belongings, had all vanished. The cabin looked as clean as the day the ship originally unfurled her balloon. Lakin ran the corridors, and froze in horror on the deck, glaring at the chaos surrounding the empty scaffolding below.

You are all so stupid, the cloaked figure said inside Lakin’s head. I warned you. There was a distinct edge to the other being’s thoughts, and the professor was certain this was some sort of devilment.

Who is acting officer per chance the Admiral has defected? Lakin shouted at the crew, scrambling across the deck to re-inflate the balloon. No one heard him over the din.

Chapter 1

Smokey Rosemont perched primly on the wooden chair, her back against the bulkhead of the ship. Around the table, sharing the shade of the awning, sat a number of others. Some were the women with whom she shared a cabin, others were men casually attracted to a table full of summer-clad ladies. Miss Rosemont was the only one not in a Gibson up-do, as she prided herself on not following all the trends, and her hair was sensibly braided and wound around her head. She toyed with a loose strand and coyly waited for the request.

Well, er, Miss Rosemont? Will you do it?

She flattened her lips. She was on the fuller side, with a round face, brown hair, and hazel eyes. She wore a little smudge of kohl around them, and a tint of rouge on her lips. It was a look she reserved only for her outings, and never for wear around the little town where she’d been teaching for several years now. Otherwise, she was much plainer than the women with whom she travelled, who each bore floral hats and bright summer garb. Her drab gray and black ensemble befitted the teacher she was back home.

Alright. She dug around her bag for her cards and a crystal. She set the latter in the center of the table, as if guarding herself from the others there. They mumbled and chittered as she gently shuffled her deck.

Alright Mr. Bagshaw, think of your question. Hold it in your mind.

She continued to shuffle for a moment until the dark haired man nodded. She set her deck to the side and then slid it across the table in a semicircle, then chose three at random, appearing to the others a bit ghost-eyed. The wind kicked up some as the airship continued across the water, and she stared at the three cards. Her observers shielded the reading.

She offered a smile. Don’t look so disturbed. You, sir, are in for a life change. Something drastic, involving travel.

He gave a pleased grin as the others giggled and tittered excitedly. It was something she was accustomed to, and wondered when she boarded the airship for a little summer trip, if she still had all her Spiritualist training at hand. Sitting in the salon earlier in the day, she overheard enough gossip, and making cold readings on purposefully dressed men like Mr. Bagshaw was rather simple. She collected her cards.

Miss Rosemont, Zerlina asked from her left, Could we speak to my aunt? Perhaps below deck? Another gust rocked them.

She nodded. The men politely escorted the ladies into a slightly stuffy salon, surprisingly empty for the time. Perhaps everyone else was on the dining deck. Upon their entrance, the bartender nodded politely, left the glass he polished on the counter, and strode across the dark green rugs to crank the windows open. She took a seat at a table against the wall again, and borrowed a candle from the bartender. He eyed her, but acquiesced, and she set it with the crystal in the center. The others pulled up chairs so tight that they were all forced to touch, and she felt the giddiness around them all.

She smiled. Everyone, hold hands, like this. She took Mr. Malcomb’s hand in hers as an example, and thought she heard a grumble here and there about frauds across America and Europe. The bartender coughed and glared at her from the side, well protected by the dark wood bar top.

First, we are the circle. Any spirit we call shall come into our circle, or leave from it, but not wander beyond it. No matter what, do not break the circle! She hissed the last, sure to catch everyone’s eye. Mr. Malcomb, Zerlina, the two of you must not let go of my hands, for in the throes of channeling, I might try to let go. Her voice lilted some, and the two of them watched her seriously. Now, everyone concentrate on the candle. I’ll open the way, and see if any spirits are about.

Miss Rosemont hummed a bit, muttered a few phrases she learned in her childhood, and let her eyes close. She weaved a bit in her seat, as if drunk, and moaned. She stiffened suddenly, tilting her chin upwards, then allowed her head to loll.

There’s…a woman. Be—

Zerlina gasped and gripped her hand. Aunt Beatrix? Is that you?

Miss Rosemont let her eyes open to slits, and stared at the candle. She then smiled broadly. Lina dear…

The young woman shook next to Miss Rosemont.

Auntie, are you happy?

Miss Rosemont allowed herself to show whatever emotions could wash over her at that moment, blissfully tranced. It’s so quiet, she uttered, and then she couldn’t catch her breath, and began to hyperventilate. Miss Rosemont shuddered and grimaced, as if punched. Ayeeeeeeeeeeeah! Who else is here? Through her slit eyes, Miss Rosemont witnessed the concern and fear written all over the séance participants.

That’s enough! The bartender boomed. He came over and blew out the candle. In shock, several hands became unclasped. None of that nonsense here! He went back to his bar.

Miss Rosemont slumped, delighted by the result. Her eyes fluttered open, and she breathed evenly and steadied her hands on the table. Only the women stayed with her, and agreed to see about dinner with her. Obviously frightened, the men peeled off, and Miss Rosemont smirked. It wasn’t the first time the rumored stronger gender had sought to escape her. Loneliness no longer followed such sessions. She was accustomed to her relative solitude, and it had served her well in the three years she taught in her little town.

She stood now, Zerlina’s arm entwined in hers, and followed the women to the dining hall of the airship.

Miss Rosemont parted ways with her roommates on board the airship at port, and travelled to a village a bit further inland where a ruin surrounded by rumors had inspired her. She stayed at the inn there, where two ladies stole her hat and covered it in feathers. She assumed it was some kind of prank, with tensions building between the people of India and their British colonizers, but the innkeeper, their father, assured her it was because she was a teacher.

She fumbled with the hat now, plastering back her sweaty bangs, as she stepped closer to the entrance of the ruins. They appeared straightforward to her, consisting of large and ornate stonework typical of these jungles. She glanced around; several day laborers shuffled past on the dusty street, and an elderly yogi hunched in the shade. The yogi slowly outstretched and waved his arm toward the massive stones of the entrance and their platoon of intricately carved deities, and Miss Rosemont took this as permission to enter.

As she stepped from the shade to the long, walled avenue, a British airship droned by. She instinctively flattened, having heard rumors of their raids on such places.

As if they own everything, she thought. The breeze that ruffled treetops and barely touched her inside the walls of the old temple seemed to answer with a moan. Trying to put away thoughts of colonies and massacres, she took her chalk and paper, and scanned the walls for anything interesting. Rows of Sanskrit appeared between large frescoes and reliefs, displaying long told stories, myths, and religious tales. She passed down that avenue till it turned, and several options revealed themselves.

That moan tickled her ears this time, but there was no breeze. No movement in the trees. Even the monkeys conserved their ornery energies. She stared at the diverging paths, two which led to a large open area studded with stupas, and a third that seemed to lead deeper into the temple itself.

As a beacon might attract a ship, a glyph not like other writing or images she had seen thus far stood out. It was of a dog, with some unintelligible scratching beneath, somewhat obscured by other imagery. Curious, she took that path. It was similar to the first long avenue, but had sharp turns here and there, less of the ornate deities and monsters of the local pantheon, and a tight, closed feeling.

She paused to take a rubbing of a brick