Ravana stared at the woman in disbelief. Her lungs felt ready to burst, her mind was in turmoil, yet the watcher sat chatting politely as if she had just dropped by for a cup of tea. Kedesh lay unmoving upon the floor. Ravana frantically looked around the hangar and in desperation staggered to the workbench and picked up the plasma cannon.
“What are you doing, Ravana?” asked Missi. “This is no time for violence.”
“I disagree,” she muttered. “It is the perfect time.”
The weapon was heavier than expected but felt good in her hands. Ravana pressed her thumb against the power switch and blinked in surprise. Targeting cross-hairs had appeared in space before her and she realised the cannon’s guidance systems had linked with the mind’s-eye display of her implant. As she hesitantly prepared to blast the door, she heard a clatter of steel limbs and saw a maintenance robot coming in for the attack.
“You have very little air left,” said the AI. “Why make this difficult?”
In a panic, Ravana turned the cannon towards the robot and pulled the trigger. A spear of white lightning leapt from the barrel and hit the mechanical dervish, which spun away in a flurry of disintegrating components and crashed against the airlock in a shower of sparks. Fighting for breath, Ravana fell dizzily to her knees and defiantly swung the cannon towards the door to the corridor. Mustering all her remaining strength, she fired again.
The blast tore the door from its frame, sending it flying down the passage at the head of a searing tide of plasma. Ravana was promptly knocked to the ground as a gust of air blew through the shattered doorway, filling the hangar with life-giving oxygen. Her chest ached, she had spots before her eyes and it felt as if her throbbing brain had turned to candyfloss, but she was alive. She climbed to her feet with the plasma cannon still in her hands. Nana scuttled towards Kedesh, who during all the excitement had fainted.
“Your actions are jeopardising my research,” the AI said calmly. “I can no longer tolerate your presence. I have no option but to remove life support in all areas.”
“I have all the support I need,” retorted Ravana. Having recovered her breath, she patted the barrel of the cannon. “If I find you’ve done anything to harm Artorius, I will ram this thing into your databanks and blow very big holes in your research.”
“Bravo,” said the woman, still sat on her perch. “Your heroic quips need work, but the gratuitous use of a big gun shows real promise. Well done, girl.”
Ravana looked at her with contempt. In the corridor beyond the ragged remains of the doorway, red lights flashed and warning sirens wailed. She realised Nana was no longer at Kedesh’s side, then saw the grey clambering out of the transport’s hatch with a bundle of emergency oxygen masks clutched tight in its spindly fingers.
“Thraak thraak!”
“Brilliant!” said Ravana. The grey handed her a couple of masks. “Get Kedesh into the transport. I’ll go and fetch Artorius and Stripy.”
She caught a brief blur of silver out of the corner of her eye and saw that Kedesh’s watcher had disappeared once more. It was a mystery that could wait. Ravana slipped a mask over her face and hurried into the shrapnel-strewn corridor.
The door to the common room slid shut at her approach. Her headache had cleared a little and after examining the implant readings of the plasma cannon, she reduced its power to minimum, called out a suitable warning to Artorius, then stood back and blasted away the door. As the detritus settled, she was not in the least bit surprised to find the monochrome hologram of Missi waiting for her on the other side, looking more ethereal than ever at the end of its dust-streaked projector beams.
“I cannot let you take the young human,” the hologram said. “It is vital that I have time to conduct important analysis, otherwise my records will remain incomplete.”
“He’s just a little boy,” protested Ravana, her voice muffled by her mask. “He is not a scientific specimen for you to play with!”
“You are wrong,” the AI replied. “Artorius is unique and must be studied. The logical explanation for his presence is so the different experiments can be compared.”
“Artorius is not an experiment!”
The hologram hovered menacingly at the shattered door. Ravana muttered something obscene under her breath, stepped through the projection and entered the common room. Artorius and Stripy were slumped at the table, but Ravana’s immediate panic was tempered when she heard them both snoring loudly. She ran over and quickly shook the boy’s shoulder, then when that had no effect she dumped the cannon onto the table, filled a glass with water from the sink and tipped it over his head. Artorius spluttered, lifted his head and glared at her with a look of annoyed bewilderment.
“What was that for?” he complained, putting a hand to his dripping hair.
“We have to go!” urged Ravana. She handed him the spare mask. “Come on!”
Artorius gave Stripy a shove, who promptly slipped off the seat, fell to the floor and awoke with a loud shriek. Ravana assumed the air would be getting thin by now but Stripy, like Nana, seemed oblivious of Missi’s attempts to asphyxiate them all.
“Fwack,” grumbled Stripy. “Fwack fwack!”
“My research will not be compromised,” declared Missi. “I cannot let you leave.”
“Oh, shut up!” retorted Ravana and picked up the plasma cannon. A quick glance was enough to follow the dust-laden beams to the projector unit in the ceiling and she dispatched the hologram with a single well-aimed blast.
“You killed Missi!” exclaimed Artorius.
“I shot the ghost, not the demon within,” she retorted. “Put your mask on.”
“Why?”
“Because Missi is trying to kill us!”
Ravana urged Artorius and Stripy through the remains of the door and on towards the corridor to the hangar. The boy stared wide-eyed at the various scenes of destruction and gave the gun in her hands a wary look. Upon reaching the hangar, Ravana was relieved to see Kedesh was conscious and back on her feet, albeit wavering unsteadily at the open hatch of the transport. Her news however was not good.
“The airlock is jammed shut,” she said. “That robot you hit for six made a bad show of exploding all over the controls.”
“I’ll try harder next time there’s a mad AI out to get us,” retorted Ravana. She swung the cannon towards the airlock. “Do I blast the doors?”
“We’ll try and ram our way out. You’d better get aboard.”
“Thraak thraak,” agreed Nana, standing behind Kedesh.
Ravana passed the woman the plasma cannon, then helped Artorius and Stripy up the steps into the transport’s own tiny airlock. She was about to follow when she heard the voice of the AI once again, as emotionless as before.
“It is imperative that you stay,” said Missi. “My research is all that matters.”
Ravana jumped as a steel roof joist dropped with a clang to the floor. A loud metallic creak echoed around the hangar. From where she stood, she could see down the corridor into the heart of the dome. The walls were buckling under the weight of the roof.
“Oh my,” she murmured. “Missi, what have you done?”
She leapt into the transport and slammed the hatch shut behind her. Kedesh was at the controls and had started the engine, but sat staring through the windscreen, transfixed by the hangar falling apart around them. Artorius and the greys stood behind, looking alarmed.
“Get us out of here!” yelled Ravana. She tore off her oxygen mask and flung it to the floor. “The air pressure’s fallen too low to support the dome!”
Kedesh shook herself, yanked the gear lever into position and shoved the speed control to maximum. The hydrogen power plant roared into life, sending the transport leaping backwards into the hangar airlock door and knocking Ravana off her feet. There was a bang, followed by a screech of metal, then a second bang as they shot through into the chamber and hit the outer airlock door. The engine gave a determined grunt, then this too burst open behind them and they were
free.
The transport bounced into the Falsafah night. Still going backwards, they accelerated along the gravel road, eager to leave the collapsing depot behind. The research station was no longer a dome, for Missi’s attempts to suffocate them in a vacuum left the base with no option but to collapse under the weight of Falsafah’s own atmosphere. Kedesh brought the transport to a halt, switched on the headlamps and they watched in silence as Falsafah Alpha slowly crumpled into the dunes like a deflating balloon.
Kedesh leaned back in her seat and sighed. “That storeroom had three shelves of chocolate cake I’ll never see again.”
“No more ice-cream,” murmured Artorius grumpily.
“Fwack,” agreed Stripy and burped.
“Thraak thraak!” chided Nana.
Ravana frowned. “Why is everything on this planet out to get us?”
“Beats me,” said Kedesh. “And we still have five thousand kilometres to go.”
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Ice-cold in Arallu
[Chapter Ten] [Contents] [Chapter Twelve]
QUIRINUS FIXED HIS STARE upon the lights of the narrow desert airstrip and tried to ignore Momus’ incessant moaning. His pilot-for-hire had good cause for complaint, for the descent from orbit through the Falsafah night was proving to be possibly the most harrowing experience of Quirinus’ many years as a pilot. The Platypus did not like the heavier gravity at all and the rocket boosters strapped to the hull were creating dangerous turbulence the sonic shield was struggling to contain. The ship’s flimsy aerofoils, extended in an attempt to make the most of Falsafah’s atmosphere, trembled like the wings of a drunken dragonfly, though the unfortunate image in Quirinus’ mind was of a chicken that had leapt from a hen-house roof after forgetting it could not fly. They were coming in far too fast for comfort.
Zotz sat rigid, strapped into the seat on Quirinus’ right. He had not said a word during the descent and frantically stroked the cat on his lap with such nervous intensity it was a wonder the electric pet had any fake fur left. The two-day flight, during which Quirinus and Momus had spent their time alternating between dealing with minor repairs and arguing with each other, had proved to be a very tedious experience.
“This is frigging madness!” cried Momus. “The crappy wings are going to fall off!”
“Shut up!” Quirinus retorted. “Ship, how are we doing?”
“Descent path for Arallu Depot is being maintained,” the ship’s computer replied smoothly. “Air brakes are insufficient to reduce speed to optimum for planet-fall and further burn of retro rockets is required. This will leave insufficient fuel to achieve orbit if landing is aborted. This is proving a most interesting experience, Captain Quirinus.”
“Not the word I would have used,” muttered Quirinus. “Any word from Arallu?”
“The facility reports no service personnel,” the AI informed him. “Please rest assured that I am in full communication with the spaceport automatic guidance systems.”
“In other words, there’s no one waiting to pick up the frigging pieces when we crash,” grumbled Momus, tapping away at the console. “Ten seconds on the retros?”
Quirinus nodded. Moments later, they heard the roar of engines and felt their seatbelts tighten as the forward-facing thrusters fired. The console screen showed the night-time view from the belly of the ship, a complex tableau of dark dunes and arid valleys in the infrared display’s million hues of green.
“Ten kilometre warning,” said the computer.
The retros did their job and the Platypus gradually settled into a calmer trajectory. Quirinus touched the control to deploy the landing gear and listened to the reassuring clunks from below as all four sets of wheels lowered into position. The faulty visual scanners left a blind spot below the sonic shield generator, leaving a forward view restricted to what he could see through the windscreen, but the frown he had worn through much of the descent was there for a very different reason. The pale illuminated dome of Arallu Depot looked lost amidst the expanse of endless desert, an insignificant twinkle of white alongside the runway’s dotted lines of red. It was a long way from home should anything go wrong.
“Hold on to something,” he advised his crew. “This may be a rough landing.”
“What a bloody surprise,” grumbled Momus.
“Quirinus is a good pilot!” protested Zotz, breaking his silence. “He can fly the Platypus with his eyes closed.”
Momus glanced at Quirinus’ eye patch. “He’s halfway there already.”
As it happened, it was a text-book landing. The Platypus came in at an angle that produced a cascade of sparks from the rear casings of the hanging boosters, yet the spacecraft barely bounced as it touched down straight and true, with just a gentle screech of tyres to herald their arrival. As the ship slowly coasted to a halt at the end of the runway, Quirinus’ grin broadened when he saw that even Momus was impressed.
“That’s what you call piloting,” Quirinus declared.
“Glad to be of service,” snapped the AI. Its metallic tones sounded miffed.
“Of course,” he added hastily. “Ship, thank you for your assistance.”
In no time at all they were trundling back along the airstrip towards the dome. As the landing lights of the Platypus came to halt upon the transit lounge, the depot’s automatic systems began to extend the walkway tunnel, thought twice and then pulled it back again when it became clear there was a huge booster blocking the cargo bay door. Quirinus gave a rueful glance towards the lounge, knowing it was too much to expect to see Ravana waving at a window, then returned his attention to shutting down the flight systems. Zotz watched the aborted actions of the docking tunnel and frowned. Momus unbuckled his seat harness, stretched wearily and looked out of the window at the nearby dome.
“Did anyone remember to pack any frigging spacesuits?” he asked.
* * *
Govannon ‘Aberystwyth’ Jones angrily stomped onwards upon yet another pointless circuit of the excavation’s dome, his scowl deepening with every cloud of dust kicked up by his boots. He was aware of the stares that followed; not only the scared expressions of Hestia, Xuthus and Urania, watching from the doorway of their cabin, but also the sneers of Agent Ininna and Agent Yima, who lounged nonchalantly near the tunnel to dome two. He levelled his own glare at the bobbing headscarf of Ininna, who had turned to speak to her colleague, then gave a mournful glance at the main airlock as he passed. The Que Qiao agents, having arrived two days ago, had not bothered to secure the transport hangar, knowing full well that until the Sir Bedivere returned there was nowhere for the archaeologists to go. Yet the other thing the agents had not done was investigate. They had simply announced their presence, stopped all work, then settled into the domes and made themselves at home.
Agent Ininna’s sneer became a grimace upon seeing the archaeologist’s circular stomp head towards her and Yima once more. Govannon had quickly learned that while he could pace non-stop around the dome for hours if the mood took him, the irritable Ininna could watch and stay silent for three circuits at most.
“Govannon!” she snapped, once he was within earshot. “By the mighty Allah, will you please keep still! You’re giving me a headache.”
The archaeologist drew nearer, slowed to a halt and glared defiantly at the agents.
“You’re the headache around here,” he retorted. “Two days we’ve been cooped up with no answers, see? No one looking into Cadmus’ death, no word from poor Ravana and none of us allowed out of your sight! How long are you planning to keep us here like this?”
“You are in no position to ask questions,” Ininna said flatly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Yima scowled. “Until the investigation is complete you would be wise to cooperate.”
“Investigation, is it?” remarked Govannon. “You haven’t done a thing since you arrived other than frighten the students with this mean and moody charade. If you had, you would know none of
us were here when Cadmus stupidly decided to crawl into that hole alone, see.” He saw Ininna’s scowl momentarily falter and wondered how far he could push her. “Why aren’t you doing anything? Are you waiting for some proper police officers from Aram to come and do the job properly?”
“Watch your mouth!” snarled Ininna.
Govannon smiled, sensing he had touched a nerve. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hestia emerge from the cabin and walk cautiously towards him with a mug in her hand. The girl’s fibre-optic tresses were a vibrant shade of crimson, which when Ininna was around was like waving a red rag to a bull.
“It’s funny how you turned up when you did. I’d only just unblocked the passage and found poor Cadmus,” he continued, challenging Ininna. The memory of what he had seen in the chamber remained fresh in his mind: the strange multi-limbed cocoon, dead giant spider and inexplicable cryogenic capsule, then finding the poor professor’s lifeless body under the rock fall. “If I were a suspicious man, I’d wonder if your superiors already knew what Cadmus was up to and were playing you like puppets on a string, see.”
“Do you want to be locked in your quarters?” asked Ininna fiercely. “Because I am more than happy to do so if it means not having to listen to you anymore.”
Seeing Hestia approach, the agent scowled and fell silent. The student, keeping her gaze averted from the agents, went straight to Govannon and handed him the mug.
“We thought you might like some tea,” Hestia murmured.
Govannon managed a smile and took the offered drink. “Thank you.”
“Is it not an English tradition to offer tea to visitors?” asked Yima, eyeing the mug.
“I’m Welsh!” snapped Govannon. “And visitors does not include unwelcome guests.”
“Would you like some?” Hestia asked Yima cautiously. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any biscuits. Xuthus finished the last packet as a midnight snack, the greedy pig.”
Paw-Prints Of The Gods Page 26
