Free A Fistful of Dust by Sharon Bidwell

studying Blackwood’s Pocket Physician book, and if Nathaniel said all was well he felt inclined to believe him. He reached up to touch Nathaniel’s wrist. “I am fine. You are fine. The others are all fine.”
    “If we were about to head home, I think I would take consolation in that. I do not like this place. It seems to bring out the worst in people. I have a confession to make.”
    Arnaud waited.
    “I had heard of Joseph’s reputation, but my resentment did not stem from that. To me he is typical of the type of establishment who bend laws to suit their own needs and do not temper them with the very thing they are supposed to uphold: justice.”
    “You blame the likes of Highmore for your incarceration at Chatham as well as many things that have happened to you.”
    “Yes, in some ways I do.”
    “Yet you do not entirely believe your own defence.”
    He waited until Nathaniel lifted his gaze to look at him in puzzlement. Arnaud wrapped one of Nathaniel’s hands in both of his, purposely choosing the weaker wrist, weaving their fingers together and bringing them in front of his face.
    “Your depth of feeling, mon toujours , it is perhaps your worst failing and yet the best thing about you.” He tightened his grip. “If you were not a good man you would not feel the need to be punished for things you could not prevent. Forgive yourself. Enough, I say.” Arnaud sat back. “ Mon dieu . You are not listening. Yet this is why I…” He stopped at a shake of the professor’s head.
    “You’ve said enough. For today, you’ve said enough.”
    Maybe it was just as well, for Annabelle spoke from the doorway. “Would you two like to retire?” She waited until she had their attention and then said, “Hurry. We approach the crater.”
    Arnaud nodded and then sat silent as Nathaniel finished his doctoring.
    3.
    “A PLOUGHED FIELD.” Nathaniel shot Highmore a look although he knew to what the man referred. Highmore turned wide eyes full of wonder upon him. “Grooves.”
    They now stood crammed in the control room, and although this irritated Folkard, it was the best viewing screen and he could hardly deny them these sights. There had been a slight altercation with Highmore, but he insisted on a brief look. Then he used the trump card of his search for Henry, and his association with Routledge. How much weight either of these carried with Folkard was another matter, but likely in order to waste the least time Folkard had relented.
    Naturally everyone wanted to be here, but Annabelle was currently manning the engine room, it having been agreed that scientifically Nathaniel and Arnaud had the most to offer. Nathaniel was ready to run the length of the ship at her call should any problems ensue.
    Like Highmore, Nathaniel was lost in the wonder of the scarred surface, the spectacle of which confirmed the minimal reports so far made by Earth’s scientists.
    “Intriguing configuration, do you not think?” Highmore came to stand on Nathaniel’s left, separating him from Arnaud. Aside from seeming a little embarrassed, the man was back to his old self.
    “Furrows.” Arnaud’s description was even more apt than grooves and added to Highmore’s remark of a ploughed field. The manner of machinery necessary to form these furrows would have to be wielded by giants.
    Highmore looked from Arnaud to Nathaniel and back again. “Observations?”
    “Why ask? You indicated you are less than enamoured with scientists,” Arnaud said.
    “For the most part that is true. So prove me wrong, gentlemen.”
    “The…furrows are aligned along the length of the moon. They could be an overrun from the collision that caused the Stickney crater, as an impact is the most likely explanation for both. Really anything I say would be speculation.” The continuing silence invited Nathaniel to do just that, but he refused.
    “Strip mining,” Arnaud ventured without hesitation. Nathaniel turned his head to stare at him, a look that he