“Sorry,” mumbled Inari. “Still, it’s a diversion of sorts.”
“What an utter debacle,” grumbled Namtar. “Today you have plumbed new depths of incompetence. Where are you going?” he asked irritably, seeing Surya walk away.
“To find the others,” Surya replied tartly. “It’s either that or walk home.”
*
Ravana and Hanuman squatted beneath the starboard wing of the Platypus, watching the distant commotion as Que Qiao security guards and a fire crew tackled the blaze in the car park. The diversion had come from an unexpected quarter but Namtar and Inari had done their job. Ravana twitched nervously when Surya’s call sign appeared in her mind and it took her a few moments to remember how to flex the mental switch to bring his disembodied words into her head. The implant’s headcom took a lot of getting used to.
“We’ve caused a bit of a distraction,” came the voice. “Good luck!”
“Message received,” she replied, earning a strange look from Hanuman. She had not yet mastered the art of transmitting a message without speaking aloud.
Together they crept back to the airlock door where Ostara and Fenris were waiting. Ravana would have preferred Hanuman to lead the rescue, but he and Ganesa were going to be busy stealing liquid hydrogen from the airstrip’s underground storage tanks so that the Platypus had enough fuel for the return to Daode. Fenris looked extremely nervous, no doubt because Ostara held Hanuman’s pistol in a way that suggested she would blast a hole in his head if he so much as sneezed. Behind them, Zotz was busy pulling all sorts of strange gadgets out of his bag.
“Ready?” asked Ravana.
Ostara nodded, handed her the slate she had brought from Kubera, then gave Fenris a prod in the back with the business end of the pistol. Fenris scowled and led them quickly across the runway towards the nearby palace, where a low-roofed terminal building had been built at the rear of the complex. They could see a security desk through a nearby window, but it was unoccupied and the entrance firmly locked.
“Never mind,” Fenris said condescendingly as Ostara tugged at the door. “You tried your best. Perhaps we should give up now and go home before someone finds us here.”
“I’m sure we can force our way in somehow,” Ostara retorted. “We could go back for Inari’s laser cutter or try to break the glass. I even saw Zotz with some sort of jet pack and I for one would love to fire you head-first through an upstairs window.”
“Shall I just unlock the door?” Ravana suggested wearily.
The implant image for the electronic catch on the door was straightforward and she opened it with ease. Moments later they were inside the surprisingly drab terminal building, standing quietly by the deserted desk and contemplating their next move.
“Where now?” Ostara asked Fenris, who was clearly perturbed that they had managed to get past the first security door so easily. When he did not answer straight away she gave him another prod. “Where are they keeping Quirinus?”
“The palace has a small cell block for prisoners brought in for questioning,” Fenris told her. “Unless he has been moved in my absence, Ravana’s father is there.”
Ravana interrogated the slate in her hand.
“I have it,” she said, looking at a plan. “It should be ahead and down one level.”
“Take us there,” ordered Ostara, speaking directly into Fenris’ ear. “Now!”
“Have you noticed how people’s personalities change once they have a gun in their hand?” Fenris remarked lightly, as he started on his way. “Not for the better, I may add.”
“I saw it myself when you pulled a pistol on my father,” retorted Ravana.
Fenris led them through a set of double doors, beyond which the decor changed from the dull pale grey of the security lobby to a sumptuous red-and-gold colour scheme more befitting of the once-royal Palace of Sumitra. At the end of a short corridor, they came to an archway that opened onto a landing on the middle level of a large staircase. The ornate wall coverings and brass banisters were as graceful as anything they had seen at Kubera. Voices could be heard from a nearby room and it suddenly struck Ravana what a terrible risk they were taking in wandering around the governor’s headquarters uninvited. Fenris had visibly brightened and she just knew he was waiting for a chance to reveal their presence.
“Down the stairs,” Ravana whispered. “As quietly as possible!”
“What if I refuse to be quiet?” replied Fenris, speaking deliberately loudly and making Ostara jump. “What would you do to me then?”
“Shut up!” hissed Ostara, raising the pistol to his head.
“Firing the gun will only hasten the discovery of our presence,” Fenris said with a leer. “Perhaps a fine Dhusarian hymn will do just as well!”
To their horror, he suddenly started singing at the top of his voice:
“Show me the way, lord alien grey,
Light-years of rapture divine!
To you we all bind, to wipe clear the mind,
In your head be it and mine!”
In a panic, Ostara lashed out with the butt of the pistol and hit Fenris hard upon his left temple, cutting off his song to send him crashing to the floor. Ravana stared in horror at the prone figure suddenly motionless at her feet.
“What have you done?” she whispered.
Ostara quickly bent down and felt the man’s pulse.
“He’s out cold,” she muttered. “That’ll teach him to sing hymns at us.”
“We can’t leave him lying on the floor like that!”
“Stick him in there,” said Ostara, pointing to a nearby door.
Ravana cautiously opened the door and peered inside. To her relief, the office beyond was unoccupied; that is until she and Ostara dragged Fenris off the landing and propped him up against the wall inside. Ravana closed the door on the drooping figure, then frowned.
“There’s no lock,” she murmured.
“Can’t be helped. With any luck, by the time he awakens we’ll be long gone.”
With Fenris no longer around to hinder them, they made swift progress down the stairway and soon Ravana was tentatively probing the implant images of the security gate at the bottom, while Ostara kept a lookout for agents. A few seconds later the gate was open and they hurried along the short corridor beyond to a further locked door, which Ravana found offered no more resistance than the others. She could sense a multitude of systems monitoring their progress, but any red flashing image in her mind she identified as a security device miraculously changed to green as they approached, for it seemed her implant was keeping them from tripping any alarms.
Ahead was yet another doorway. From the schematic displayed on the slate in her hand Ravana saw they had nearly reached the cell block. All of a sudden, the door before them opened and two figures stepped through.
“Stop right there!” roared Dana, raising a gun. Beside her stood a young boy, whom after a split second of confusion Ostara and Ravana both realised was Surya’s cyberclone. “Drop your weapon. You are both under arrest!”
“Don’t shoot!” Ostara cried. Much to her shame, what little bravado she had mustered upon stepping foot in the palace had evaporated at the sight of Dana’s gun.
Ravana stood in stunned silence. Her implant had locked onto the cell-block security system and to her amazement her mind’s eye could see the camera feeds from all eight cells. Flicking through them one by one, she gazed in sorrow at the crumpled, dejected prisoners and suddenly came across a joyous sight. The familiar bearded figure of her father was in cell seven, looking weak yet defiant. It was galling to think she was so close to him yet so far. Beside her, Ostara knelt down and placed Hanuman’s pistol upon the floor.
“Kick it over here,” ordered Dana, keeping her own weapon trained upon them.
“As hard as you can,” whispered Ravana. “Aim for the door behind her.”
Ostara gave her a puzzled look, then booted the pistol across the floor, sending it ricocheting off the wall and onwards down t
he corridor. Just as it neared the door it clipped the cyberclone’s foot, then passed smoothly through the doorway to the cells beyond. Dana stepped forward, looking far from impressed.
“O’Brien has quite the resourceful little daughter,” she remarked. “After you gave me the slip in Hemakuta I never expected you to turn up here. Did I hear Fenris singing?”
“There is much happening that is most irregular,” commented the cyberclone.
“I’ve come for my father,” Ravana said calmly. Her implant had found the circuit she wanted and unbeknown to Dana, every cell door in the block beyond was sliding open. “It’s been a long day and I’m no mood for games. You would be wise to stay out of my way.”
Dana laughed. “Is that a threat?”
She heard a noise behind her and froze. Ostara gave a little squeak of surprise as a figure appeared out of the shadows behind Dana, then another, all closing in on her in a quiet wave of rage. With pride in his step, the pilot of the Platypus strode from amongst them, picked up Hanuman’s pistol and placed it to the agent’s head.
“Actually,” said Quirinus, “what my daughter said was more a warning.”
“Father!” cried Ravana.
“You won’t get away with this,” Dana replied coolly.
Lowering her gun, she dropped it to the floor, then calmly reached out and hit the alarm button upon the wall.
*
The noise was deafening. The wail of sirens, thud of boots and barked orders of guards merged with a cacophony of screams and shouts that surged through the palace in an uncontrolled explosion of mayhem. Amidst the chaos, a masked birdman strode forth, wreathed in the thick cloak of fog his backpack had added to the confusion. Que Qiao agents who got in his way were effortlessly thrown aside by a bolt from his lightning rod or a casual sweep of artificially-enhanced muscles, or found their plasma weapons rendered useless by the electromagnetic charges exploding in his wake.
Prisoners ran amok in a frenzied attempt to flee the building. The surveillance network refused to cooperate. The agent in charge of security, conspicuous by her absence, would be found hours later inexpertly bound, gagged and locked in one of her own cells.
The scarlet-clad warrior, guided by his infra-red goggles, reached the fog-bound grand staircase. With a dramatic flourish, he heroically held out his hand to the girl struggling to lead her rescue party up through the smoke.
“What the hell are you doing here?” exclaimed Ravana, startled.
“The Flying Fox at your service!” the birdman declared. “Follow me!”
Blinded by the thick smoke and a piercing headache, Ravana had no option but to grab the offered glove and follow. Her other hand firmly gripped that of her father, who in turn held onto Ostara. Surya’s cyberclone could navigate perfectly well through the fog but was not programmed to take the initiative, so in Dana’s absence simply decided to follow another set of familiar faces.
The masked hero led them quickly along the corridor towards the exit, which Ravana had fortuitously forgotten to close after unlocking it earlier. There was a loud crash as a door behind them flew open and they were suddenly joined by an extremely enraged Fenris.
“Don’t leave me in this place!” he roared.
Moments later, they charged through the door at the far end of the security lobby and spilled breathlessly out onto the runway. To add to the confusion they were surprised to find Namtar and Inari waiting for them, even more so when Hanuman and Ganesa suddenly turned up driving a stolen open-top ground car. Fenris made an ill-mannered grab for the Raja and quickly bundled himself and the boy into the rear seat of the car.
“Hanuman!” cried Quirinus. “Ganesa! Is all this your doing?”
“Thank your daughter!” Hanuman called over to Quirinus. “We were happy to help a friend in need. Your ship is fuelled and ready to go!”
“What is going on?” exclaimed Ostara. Namtar and Inari climbed into the ground car after Fenris, eager to leave.
“Inari blew up the hoverbus,” said Ganesa. “We needed another way out of here.”
In the sudden rush to escape, Ravana had lost sight of the birdsuit-clad figure and now there was nothing but a plume of smoke across the runway to show where her saviour had been. A whine of distant turbines reached her ears and she saw a sinister-looking Que Qiao ground car racing towards them with sirens wailing. On the other side of the airstrip, the robot refuelling gantry next to the Platypus was retreating into its underground bunker to leave the runway clear for take-off.
“Go!” yelled Quirinus. He passed the borrowed pistol back to Hanuman. “Thanks for everything. I just hope next time we meet it is in more civilised circumstances!”
Hanuman grinned. With a roar of turbines, the stolen ground car shot off like a bullet from a gun, racing in a wide arc towards the approaching vehicle to divert the pursuers from the Platypus and its crew. Quirinus, Ravana and Ostara ran as fast as they could towards the waiting spacecraft. Two figures frantically waved at them from the smoke-filled airlock door.
Ravana reached the cargo bay ahead of the others and made it up the ladder, through the crawl tunnel and onto the flight deck in record time.
“Ship!” she yelled. “Start the engines!”
The thrusters fired almost instantly. An almighty roar bellowed through the open airlock and the spacecraft shuddered into life, shaking the tendrils dangling from the console and knocking Ravana off her feet and into the co-pilot’s seat. Then her father was beside her, rapidly running his fingers over the console as he prepared the Platypus for take-off.
“Main engines running in air-breathing mode,” the AI confirmed, sounding almost smug. “Good to have you back aboard, Captain Quirinus.”
“It’s good to be back,” he replied. He winked at Ravana. “Let’s get out of here.”
*
The agents in pursuit of the stolen ground car proved to be remarkably persistent. Finding all exit roads blocked, Hanuman forced their car ever quicker along parkland tracks that were no more than footpaths until finally they could go no further. The ground car was not designed for off-road use and their frantic dash through the rugged terrain had shook it almost to destruction. Forced to abandon the smoking vehicle, they were hurrying away through the surrounding woodland on foot when they were abruptly deafened by the sound of a spacecraft blasting its way skywards.
“They made it!” exclaimed Ganesa.
“What about us?” retorted Fenris. “It is imperative we get the Raja to Hemakuta!”
The figure at his side had been badly shaken by the rough off-road escape and without warning suddenly fell to the floor, trembling fitfully. Fenris uttered a yelp of dismay and dropped to his knees in a panic.
“Raja!” he cried. “What is wrong? Are you wounded?”
“Dislocated motherboard,” the cyberclone whispered. A thin wisp of smoke issued forth from his right ear. “Reboot me!”
Fenris lifted his head and screamed. “Idiots! We’ve got the wrong Raja!”
Chapter Twelve
Final curtain call
COMMANDER KARTIKEYA stared out across the packed auditorium and tried not to panic. The stage lights masked the individual faces of the seated audience, but that did not stop him being acutely aware of the thousand or so eyes directly upon him, plus the several million more watching from across the five systems through the wonders of holovid broadcast technology, all awaiting his response. Yet the carefully-prepared closing speech on the rostrum before him was now worthless. His cunning plan had come to nothing, leaving him all alone before all the worlds with nothing to say.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Yaksha speaking into her headset as she watched from the wings to his left. Her voice in Kartikeya’s earpiece once again whispered the words that had rooted him to the spot.
“I repeat, Fenris is not coming,” said Yaksha.
Governor Jaggarneth leaned forward upon his own rostrum and regarded Kartikeya with a smug, self-satisfied smile. His secretary h
ad eavesdropped upon the hushed backstage conversation amongst Kartikeya’s entourage and relayed the news to him also. His own devious scheme to bring chaos to the peace conference also rested upon the Raja’s surprise appearance, but he seemed happy to settle for watching the rebel leader squirm.
Beside him, the statuesque female presenter of News 120, the Yuanshi-based politics show, quickly sensed the hesitation and stepped in to fill the gap.
“Commander Kartikeya, do you not think this is a valid point?” she asked. “Would Yuanshi not be better served by a government modelled on twenty-third century corporate lines, rather than on what most would see as out-dated concepts of tradition?”
Kartikeya stared helplessly across the stage. He recognised her words as the gist of Jaggarneth’s last argument but was unable to recollect him actually saying it. Looking down at his rostrum, he half-heartedly read the first few lines of the speech on his slate screen but knew he could no longer expect inspiration from that quarter. The military man inside him realised he was cornered. With a grim resolve he decided to come out fighting.
“We are not here to decide which is the best way to govern,” he declared. “My own belief is this is something only the people of Yuanshi can decide. I have come to this conference in good faith, to seek peace and a settlement that offers the best for all!”
*
Unseen behind the curtain across the stage, Miss Clymene and the three remaining players of the Newbrum Academy band sat listening as they waited for their own turn in the spotlight. Hearing Kartikeya’s words, Endymion looked at Bellona and pulled a face.
“Seek peace, my ass!” he whispered. “Start a revolution, more like!”
“I heard someone backstage mention Fenris,” Bellona murmured. “The people who came with the rebel leader seem very upset. Has there been any word from the others?”
“Nothing since the message Zotz sent me an hour ago,” Endymion told her. “If they were on their final approach as he said, they should have landed by now.”
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