Paw-Prints Of The Gods

by Steph Bennion

  “So you Americans got here first,” muttered Urania. “Typical.”

  Xuthus opened his mouth to reply, but was lost for words. Govannon and Yima must have seen the capsule during their earlier visit to recover Cadmus’ body, which perhaps explained their unwillingness to talk. As they stood and stared, he found his brain reluctant to engage with what was before them; in the eyes of a student archaeologist, it was akin to finding a food molecularisor buried beneath the sarsens of Stonehenge.

  “Did you see that old oxygen tank we found?” asked Hestia. “Govannon and I unearthed it near the entrance. I reckon someone’s dug here before.”

  “I saw it,” murmured Urania. “But this capsule is ancient in comparison. The only one I’ve seen before was in the museum at the new Gávea Planetarium in Rio.”

  “Cryogenic capsules were used on the failed mission to Alpha Centauri,” Xuthus said, awestruck. “The USS Constellation, which was years before the Edward Everett Hale. I did a project on it at school,” he explained, seeing their mystified looks. “The Constellation disappeared without trace and cryogenic capsules were never used again.”

  “You are so clever!” said Hestia. “But that would make it a hundred years old!”

  “More like a hundred and fifty,” Urania told her, sounding doubtful.

  “Do you think we sent a ship to Tau Ceti all those years ago?” suggested Xuthus, suddenly excited by the prospect. “Were Americans the first to reach Falsafah?”

  “Maybe the Constellation got lost in space and ended up here,” mused Hestia.

  “They would have to be very lost to end up at Tau Ceti,” Urania retorted scornfully. “Alpha Centauri is in the totally opposite direction from Earth.”

  “How about time travel?” offered Hestia. “If it’s not from the Constellation, perhaps it was sent here by top-secret time-travelling archaeologists!”

  “Time travel is impossible,” said Xuthus, irritated by Hestia’s enthusiasm.

  “What about the dead giant spider?” she asked. She sounded peeved that no one was taking her seriously. “I think someone’s been here before and taken samples.”

  Xuthus frowned. His glance at the spider had been enough to see the curious incisions in its desiccated flesh. The idea of time travel was tantalising; the capsule itself exuded a fragility that suggested it could have lain hidden for thousands rather than hundreds of years. Urania was carefully recording the scene with her wristpad’s holovid camera. She caught his gaze, lowered her arm and gave him a sneering look.

  “You two are so stupid,” she said, exasperated. “Can’t you see the bigger picture? You’re quibbling over some old capsule and ignoring the fact we have a massive alien egg on legs and a huge dead spider at the bottom of a labyrinth on an equally dead planet. This is the find of the century! The millennium! Here is proof of an ancient alien civilisation! No wonder those agents were told not to do anything until their experts arrived.”

  “Civilisation?” Xuthus frowned, well aware of Govannon’s thoughts on the subject. “This is two weird corpses or whatever at the bottom of a pit. The capsule is human.”

  “Weird?” remarked Urania. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  “What do you think?” Hestia asked Xuthus, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “If it is an alien tomb we’ll be in the history books,” murmured Xuthus.

  “Like the people who find Egyptian mummies,” mused Hestia. A look of horror crept across her face. “Do you think there’s anyone inside? Frozen, I mean.”

  Xuthus gulped. Keeping his eyes on the capsule, he nervously backed away until he came up against one of the upright rods. The expressions of Hestia and Urania were enough to tell him he was not the only one who suddenly found himself stifled by the atmosphere inside the chamber. Hestia retreated towards the archway, followed by Urania. Xuthus put a hand behind his back to feel his way past the grey rod. His prying fingers came across a small indentation in the smooth pillar and before he knew what he was doing, a fingertip squeezed the membrane within the hollow.

  A low groan echoed across the chamber. Xuthus felt the rod slip through his hand and he leapt away with a shout of fright. All twelve rods rose in silent unison, silhouetted against pin-pricks of pale blue light that now appeared on the walls like stars at dusk. Suddenly, the chamber shuddered to the sound of another deep grumble and the ground at his feet promptly blistered to release puffs of cold air through the floor itself. The strange cocoon trembled, cracked and began to disintegrate before his eyes.

  Hestia and Urania shrieked in alarm. Startled, Xuthus gave another yell and ran to the arch. He glanced back just in time to see the ancient cocoon collapse amidst a tumble of splintering legs.

  “What’s happening?” screamed Hestia. “What have you done?!”

  “I didn’t touch anything!” Xuthus protested, knowing it was a lie. “Run!”

  Hestia and Urania did not need to be told twice. Xuthus led the way, sprinting like a maniac into the labyrinth. The rumbling and tremors shook clouds of dust from the ceiling and stirred the biochemical fluids of the lamps, making them flicker. They raced past one stuttering green glow to the next, as fast as their pounding hearts would allow. Xuthus almost cried with relief when he finally spied the light of the shattered archway ahead and burst through the hole into the trench like a plasma bolt from a gun. Urania was right behind, a wheezing Hestia a distant third.

  Xuthus put a hand to the ladder, but his weary legs had other ideas and he collapsed into an untidy heap on the floor. It was not until he saw the gathered faces peering into the trench from above that he realised the dome lights were back on. Urania staggered to a halt next to him and warily regarded the scene that greeted them.

  Doctor Jones, Agent Ininna and Agent Yima stood with hands on their heads, looking subdued before two clunky military androids armed with rifles. With them was a thin Indian woman, wearing a grey cloak and headscarf, whom Xuthus had not seen before and who seemed most displeased to meet him now. Behind her stood two robed figures, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, who did not move nor make a sound but nonetheless exuded an aura of quiet rage.

  “What’s going on?” Xuthus asked, his voice wavering.

  He cautiously clambered to his feet. Behind him, Hestia emerged from the archway, wheezing heavily. The tremors had ceased but a nearby equipment cabinet had toppled and one of the trench walls had collapsed. Xuthus looked around the dome and saw that the airtight door to the east, previously sealed on the sensible grounds there was nothing but inhospitable desert on the other side, was now wide open to reveal the interior of a tubular walkway, linked to the hatch of a transport parked outside. Two figures in dark flight suits were erecting what looked like a tent near the dome wall and making a mess of a carefully-cleaned trench. Confused, Xuthus shifted his gaze back to Govannon.

  “This is Lilith and err... friends,” said the archaeologist. “Aren’t we popular?”

  The Indian woman pushed him aside and stared frostily at Xuthus, Hestia and Urania.

  “This holy ground is now in the hands of the brothers of the Dhusarian Church,” Lilith declared. “You will not meddle in our affairs a moment longer!”

  * * *

  Quirinus was aboard the berthed Platypus when he felt the first tremors. Engrossed in a holovid message Ostara had sent from Newbrum, his first reaction was to look through the flight-deck windows at the nearby Atterberg Epiphany, convinced the disturbance was the ship firing its engines ready to depart. Yet as the rumbling continued he realised it came from deep within the planet, then watched in alarm as the nearby wind-pump tower slowly keeled over and collapsed. When the tremors eventually subsided, he saw a distant glint of sunlight upon running water and guessed the leak from the well had become terminal.

  “Ship, what was that?” he asked, pausing the holovid replay. “An earthquake?”

  “Detectors registered seismic activity in the area,” the AI replied. “The initial shock wave or
iginated approximately two hundred kilometres north of our present location. The cause of the disturbance is unknown.”

  With a sigh, Quirinus returned his attention to Ostara’s report. It was brief but informative; she had attached the recording made at the Broad Street church, giving him his first glimpse of Taranis’ alien cyberclones, but the words of the sermon were lost beneath the muted gasps and whispers of herself and Endymion. Yet it was Ostara’s tale of how she and Endymion had caught Bellona searching through Ravana’s things for the Isa-Sastra that concerned him, for he suspected it had something to do with Jizo being on Falsafah. Back on Yuanshi, the nurse had been far too close to Taranis for Quirinus’ liking.

  He quickly recorded a couple of brief messages, one for Ostara and another to Wak on the Dandridge Cole, then used the ship’s transceiver to send them on their way. Once that was done, he again tried to raise the archaeologists on the short-range system, but as before there was no reply. The radio silence from the dig was worrying.

  “Ship, have you managed to link with the depot’s system?” he asked. He had failed to crack the local database, despite Zotz’s help. “Remote access to the ship’s transceiver would be useful, too. It would save me having to put on a spacesuit to make a call.”

  “Arallu Depot’s data network is coded to secure police channels. I have been granted access to ground crew maintenance and refuelling sub-systems only,” the computer replied. “I can maintain a ship-to-shore link via your wristpad.”

  “Yes, that’s fine,” grumbled Quirinus, who hated doing anything complicated on his wristpad’s tiny screen. “Do the same for all registered crew and send regular updates.”

  “Confirmed,” said the AI.

  Quirinus put on his helmet, slipped through the floor hatch into the pod bay and dropped clumsily onto the runway. One brisk walk later, he was back in the depot’s hangar and shedding his survival suit. He was ready for another battle of wills with Jizo.

  * * *

  Quirinus found Momus waiting for him at Morrigan’s Bar, standing next to where Jizo was perched on the end stool, her wrists and ankles secured with tape. Zotz, Philyra and a sulky-looking Fornax were sat on top of an upturned crate in front of the nearby habitation cabin, peering at the screen of Zotz’s wristpad. Ravana’s runaway cat was broadcasting a live holovid feed, but Quirinus could tell from the bemused expressions of those watching the footage that they still had no idea where the electric pet actually was.

  “She had this on her,” Momus said, as Quirinus approached. He showed him a flask. “Nothing else of interest. I reckon she’s a spy.”

  Quirinus took the stool next to Jizo. “Is she ready to talk?”

  “Talk?” Jizo gave him a smug, self-satisfied smile. “What about?”

  “Don’t play games with me! What have you done with Ravana?” asked Quirinus. He scowled as Momus reached to switch on the robot bar steward. “Leave that thing alone!”

  “I want a frigging beer,” said Momus. “Nothing else to do, is there?”

  The robot shuddered and its eyes began to glow. “Would you like a drink, sir?”

  “Lager,” declared Momus. “Ice cold.”

  “Can I have one?” asked Jizo.

  “No, you can’t!” snapped Quirinus. “Answer my question!”

  “Ravana?” the nurse replied, acting surprised. “The church has a mission on Falsafah. My duty is to lead the disciples who come from afar to stop the desecration of holy lands.”

  “Who is this woman?” asked Momus. He picked up the tumbler the robot placed before him, took a long sip and grinned. Quirinus saw Jizo staring and licking her lips. “Wow, that’s frigging good stuff. Brewed on the premises, eh?”

  “Yes sir,” said the robot. “I am pleased it meets with your approval.”

  “Jizo was a nurse at Lanka hospital, back when Ravana and I lived on Yuanshi,” Quirinus said irritably, in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “She was on duty the night they brought in the wounded from the Aranya Pass massacre. Jizo came to treat Ravana and realised she was the child Taranis had years ago made plans for in secret, against our will. Jizo told Taranis and we were forced into hiding. She sold us out.”

  “Actually, it was Fenris who saw your daughter,” Jizo remarked. “But he could not make up his mind about what to do, so I went to Taranis and took all the credit.”

  “Taranis?” asked Momus. “Who the bloody hell is he?”

  “Our beloved father!” announced Jizo. “The founder of the Dhusarian Church!”

  “Oh, that crappy nutcase,” mused Momus. “Isn’t he dead?”

  “I did hope so,” Quirinus admitted. “Yet I’ve received a holovid that shows some of his entourage in Newbrum, preaching about some stupid prophecy of Falsafah. Would you care to comment?” he added icily, looking at Jizo.

  “I object to this man’s description of our exalted priest!” she declared.

  Exasperated, Quirinus opened his mouth to argue and paused. Jizo trembled, not with fear but anticipation, for her gaze had not moved from the drink in Momus’ hand. Quirinus saw her tongue again run across her lips and he smiled wryly.

  “Bar steward!” he called. “A beer for our guest!”

  “What?” exclaimed Momus and Jizo in unison.

  “At once sir,” replied the robot.

  Jizo tugged at her bonds, mesmerised by the automated bar tender as it poured a schooner of lager and deposited it before her. Condensation formed on the glass.

  “Where is Ravana?” Quirinus asked her gently. “That’s all I want to know.”

  “Untie my wrists,” she murmured.

  “Tell me about my daughter!”

  “I will tell you what I know,” replied Jizo coolly, “when my hands are free.”

  Quirinus gestured to Momus to undo the bindings securing the nurse’s wrists. No sooner were her hands free when a brown blur shot towards his face and poked him squarely in the centre of his eye patch.

  “Ow!” cried Quirinus. “You little piece of...!”

  “That’s for being rude about Taranis,” Jizo said smartly, reaching for her beer.

  “It was Momus who called him a crappy nutcase!”

  “You didn’t disagree with him,” she pointed out. Putting the tumbler to her lips, she took a long, slow sip and gave a satisfied burp. “That is good beer!” she agreed, addressing Momus. She turned back to Quirinus. “Where were we?”

  “I was just deciding which of your eyes to poke in return,” he grumbled.

  “Be thankful I didn’t go for your good one,” she retorted, then shrieked as Quirinus snatched the drink from her hands. “Give that back!”

  “Tell me about Ravana!” Quirinus roared angrily. “Or I’ll shove this where...”

  “Fine!” interrupted Jizo. She gazed longingly at the drink in Quirinus’ grip and sighed. “I was rewarded for my loyalty on the night you described. I am one of a select few, chosen to guide the twelve along paths Taranis has foreseen. We did not expect to find Ravana with the archaeologists. Your daughter was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Quirinus frowned. “But the dig has something to do with it all?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied. “Great things are afoot. And Ravana knows too much.”

  “Where is she?” pleaded Quirinus. “What have you done with my little girl?”

  “We had her brought to us,” Jizo replied simply. “Then she escaped.”

  “Escaped?”

  “There’s nowhere to frigging escape to on this crappy planet,” said Momus.

  “Thanks,” muttered Quirinus. “You’re not helping.”

  Jizo smiled and eyed the tumbler in Quirinus’ hands. “My mind needs lubrication,” she hinted. “Talking to you is such thirsty work.”

  Quirinus glowered and shoved the drink back across the bar. Jizo grabbed it with both hands and took a long sip, holding the tumbler tight.

  “Well?” Quirinus snapped.

  “She stole a tran
sport and crashed in the desert,” the nurse replied flatly. She grinned at Quirinus’ look of alarm. “Don’t worry! An acquaintance of ours happened to be following and Ravana is quite safe. My friends in that fancy spaceship detected their vehicle in the mountains and we know they’re on their way.”

  “She’s safe!” exclaimed Quirinus. “Are you sure? Somewhere in the mountains?”

  “A couple of days away. Didn’t you spot it from your own ship?”

  Quirinus pursed his lips and frowned. The damaged visual scanners had left them unable to run a broad scan when the Platypus was on its final approach. Yet Jizo’s news was the first ray of light since that dark day on the Dandridge Cole. His daughter was somewhere out there and she was not alone. Quirinus slumped back in his stool and leaned against the bar, his mind buzzing with a tentative wave of relief. A thought struck him.

  “You’re here in case she turns up at this depot!” he realised. “Who’s with her?”

  Jizo gave him an unpleasant leer. “Now that would be telling.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  In the shadow of Hursag Asag

  [Chapter Eleven] [Contents] [Chapter Thirteen]

  THE SHAKING OF THE TRANSPORT worked better than any alarm. Within moments, Ravana and Kedesh were out of their bunks and in the cockpit of the parked transport, frantically scrutinising the console and the rugged landscape beyond the windscreen to see what was happening. In the cabin behind, the greys picked themselves up from where they had fallen onto the floor. Artorius slept on, making Ravana wonder just what it would take to disturb the boy from his slumber.

  “What was that?” she exclaimed. “Some sort of earthquake?”

  “Falsafah quake,” Kedesh corrected her.

  “Thraak thraak!” Nana shrieked excitedly. “Thraak thraak!”