Paw-Prints Of The Gods (19 page)

“Can’t you fix that
wobble?” asked Quirinus irritably.

“The missing engine
and reactor has put the asteroid out of balance,” Wak explained.
“The venting fuel line didn’t help, nor that those idiots who came
for the Raja managed to destroy a control bunker in the
process.”

“It’s about time you
frigging sorted it out,” Momus muttered.

“I’m doing my best!”
Wak retorted. “There’s a lesson to be learned though. It was the
height of stupidity to take something like power generation for
granted. In my defence, those reactors were designed to run at
maximum efficiency for a century or more with little or no
maintenance. I had the access tunnels sealed to stop people
meddling! Believe me, I do regret not sending my team to check the
engine rooms straight away, instead of wasting my time trying to
diagnose the problem via remote systems. Hindsight is a wonderful
thing.”

Quirinus shuddered.
“What Ravana found was far from wonderful.”

“Anyway, the robots
finished rebuilding the bunker and spin thrusters a while ago,” Wak
told Momus. “It’s just that with the fuel situation and everything
I left it wobbling. Why waste power on that when we have heaters
and lights to run in Dockside?”

“It’s making me feel
sick,” complained Momus, but it was more the sight of the
Indra
oscillating gently before him that he found
disconcerting.

“You’ll be fine once
you’re aboard!” Quirinus told him. He patted his pilot-for-hire on
the back. “Captain Momus, your ship awaits!”

Momus pulled a face
and reluctantly pushed himself from the railing towards the open
airlock of the
Indra
. By the time he was inside and pulling
the hatch closed, Quirinus and Wak had made a hasty retreat to the
elevator back to Dockside and were out of sight.

“Frigging space
tankers,” Momus muttered, strapping himself into the pilot’s
seat.

It took a few minutes
to run through the final pre-flight checks. The huge airlock
chamber opened and the
Indra
began its slow reverse along
the rectangular shaft that led to the outer doors and deep space.
Despite his complaining, Momus was secretly quite content at having
a ship to himself for a change. His failure to progress as a pilot
beyond short-range shuttles was almost entirely down to his extreme
dislike of taking passengers. When the
Indra
finally emerged
into space some five minutes later, he almost managed a smile.

The ship backed away
from the immense rocky bulk of the asteroid and the dwindling
narrow slot of the outer airlock door. The
Indra
left the
shaft spinning at the same rate at the
Dandridge Cole
, but
after a quick blast of the tanker’s correction jets, the asteroid
filling the view through the flight-deck window began to rotate
once more. Further jets fired and the
Indra
turned away,
leaving Momus with little to do other than to await the main engine
burn that would take him to the distant gas planet of Thunor.

“Just me and the
stars,” he murmured. “Bliss.”

A sudden noise made
him jump. He could have sworn that above the background murmur of
onboard equipment he had heard the pitiful meow of a cat. Slowly,
he turned in his seat and was greeted by the sight of Ravana’s
electric pet, wearing a pained expression as it drifted between the
ceiling and the floor.

“Crap,” Momus said
glumly. “Just me, the stars and a frigging mental cat.”

* * *

[Chapter Five
]
[
Contents
] [
Chapter Seven
]

THERE WAS A SHARP
WHITE LIGHT, silhouetting a fleeting image of a tall figure in
black, then Ravana clamped her eyelids shut once more. It hurt to
breathe and as she tried to move her chest muscles went into spasm,
making her wince. Yet the air was warm and alive with the
unmistakeable hum and clicks of life-support systems, subtly
different to the background noises she had become used to in their
stolen vehicle.

Her eyes still closed,
she ran a hand across her blanket covering and felt the soft
mattress beneath. When she flickered her eyelids open again the
figure remained next to her, unmoving yet watchful in the stark
light of the room. Ravana’s thoughts went back to the nurses in her
cell and in a panic she tried to lift herself up, then crashed back
into the warm embrace of the bed as a renewed bolt of pain seared
across her chest.

“Please,” she
whispered. “Let me out of here.”

“You’re going
nowhere,” replied a kindly voice. “Your lungs have been knocked for
six and you need to take it easy for a while.”

It was a woman who
spoke, using reassuring crisp English tones that were a long way
from the Indian accents of the nurses. Ravana’s eyes slowly
adjusted to the brightness and she stared warily at the tall figure
standing at her side. The pale-skinned young woman wore a black
jumpsuit of an old-fashioned design, made of a denim-like material
with dramatically flared legs and shoulder straps instead of
sleeves. Her hair, several shades too red to be natural, was
bundled into an untidy knot on top of her head that highlighted a
squareness to her features more handsome than beautiful. Her bare
arms were marked by numerous white scars, with an indistinct tattoo
below her left shoulder. The woman looked back at her with a
curious expression that revealed both caution and concern.

Ravana lifted her
head. She lay inside the passenger cabin of a personnel carrier,
one larger but otherwise not dissimilar to their own crashed
vehicle, though they did not seem to be moving. Behind the woman
was another bunk, upon which she saw Artorius lying tucked up and
apparently asleep. There was no sign of the greys.

“You rescued us,”
Ravana murmured. “You said you couldn’t. Who are you?”

“My name is Kedesh,”
the woman told her. Reaching over, she took Ravana’s hand and
squeezed it gently. “Try not to talk. Asphyxiation’s a sticky
wicket for the lungs!”

“Kedesh,” repeated
Ravana. “My name...”

“I know who you are,”
interrupted Kedesh. “Rest a while, Ravana. Then we’ll talk.”

* * *

By the time Ravana
felt recovered enough to climb out of bed, the long Falsafah night
was coming to an end and the faint glimmer of a Tau Ceti dawn was
upon the eastern horizon. The other bunk was empty and upon
investigation she found Artorius and the greys sitting at a table
towards the front of the cabin, tucking into a variety of food
packs laid out by their host. Kedesh stood nearby and as Ravana
approached, the woman greeted her with a smile and motioned for her
to take a seat.

Ravana caught a
glimpse of the scene outside the nearby cockpit window and paused.
Barely twenty metres away, the rear end of their stolen transport
rose over the edge of the crater with its airlock door hanging
open. As if the sight of the crumpled vehicle was not enough, her
bruised ribs and headache were doing their best to remind her of
their brush with death. Artorius too looked slightly worse for
wear. The greys were as fresh as ever.

“Ravana!” greeted
Artorius, speaking through a mouthful of food. “You’re alive!”

“Am I?” she murmured,
taking a seat. “I haven’t died and been sent to Naraka?”

“Thraak!” protested
Nana.

“I apologise,” said
Ravana. She looked at Kedesh. “My grey friend says I should be
grateful that you came to our aid, which of course I am. It’s just
that after what we’ve been through, dying in a ditch in the middle
of the desert seemed almost inevitable.”

“Artorius kindly gave
me a copy of his amazing translator programme,” Kedesh told her,
indicating the greys. “Would you like some tea and cake?”

“Tea!” exclaimed
Ravana. “You remind me of a friend back in Newbrum.”

“And cake,” the woman
reiterated. “Your blood sugar levels would have taken a hit after
that trauma. Besides, tea and cake is so civilised, don’t you
think?”

Kedesh moved to the
kitchen area. She returned carrying a tray, upon which were a
couple of antique ceramic cups and saucers, a china pot with a
spout and a small plate upon which were slices of dark fruit cake.
Ravana did not know whether to be more amazed at the presence of
tasty confectionery so far from anywhere or at the wisps of steam
rising from the pot. Kedesh lowered the tray to the table and
Ravana watched in fascination as the woman added a dash of milk and
sugar to each cup, placed a tiny metal sieve upon the first and
poured the dark brew. Ravana had never seen anyone make tea the
old-fashioned way before. Artorius already slurped on a juice
carton.

“I’ve heard a little
of your trials,” said Kedesh. “You’ve had a rough time.”

“You could say that,”
murmured Ravana. She eyed the cake hungrily.

“Fwack fwack,” Stripy
intoned solemnly.

“Thraak,” agreed
Nana.

“And we don’t want to
go back,” Artorius added stubbornly.

Ravana took the
offered cup and sipped the tea with a hesitation that turned to
gratitude as the sweet comforting nectar slid over her taste buds.
Kedesh smiled, took a step back and leaned against the transport’s
curved wall. She nevertheless seemed ill at ease, as if unsure of
what to do with her unexpected guests.

“It is I who should
apologise,” Kedesh said eventually. “You would never have ended up
at the bottom of a crater if I hadn’t bowled a googly. My response
to your plea for help was also rather poor. I’m sorry if my actions
came across as just not cricket.”

“Err... okay,” said
Ravana, slightly disconcerted by the odd turn of phrases.

“Rest assured I’m
playing for the home team. I have no truck with Dhusarians!”

“Truck?” asked
Artorius, puzzled. “What truck?”

“Then who are you?”
Ravana asked Kedesh, ignoring the boy’s question. “You said you
knew who I was. Why did you think you weren’t allowed to help?”

“Too many questions!”
Kedesh looked flustered. “We should get moving. Where were you
heading? There’s nothing out there within a thousand kilometres of
the Dhusarians’ dome,” she added, gesticulating towards the
windscreen.

“Ravana is taking me
home,” Artorius declared.

“I’m trying to get
back to the Arallu Wastes,” said Ravana, seeing Kedesh frown at the
boy’s unhelpfully vague reply. “I came to Falsafah with the
Bradbury Heights University archaeology dig. I don’t suppose you
have a convenient spaceship nearby?”

“Sorry, no. How did
you end up in the hands of our alien-loving friends?”

“Thraak!”

“Yes, I guessed the
feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“I’m not sure,” Ravana
said cautiously. “They gave me tablets that nearly scrambled my
mind for good. The last thing I remember before waking up to those
horrible nurses is being at Arallu Depot, which was two weeks ago.
My father was expecting me to be there to call him again today,”
she added sadly. “Or was that yesterday?”

“I can’t help you
there,” said Kedesh brusquely. “It’s nigh impossible to get a clear
signal to Aram’s servermoon from Falsafah. It sounds like you went
out for a duck and were grabbed from the depot. What about you and
the neands?” she asked Artorius.

“Neands?” he asked,
puzzled.

“The greys,” she
hurriedly corrected.

“Fwack fwack!”

Ravana looked at
Kedesh, baffled by the abstract image the translator presented.

“Neands?” she
repeated. “Is that what you call greys?”

“Never mind that now,”
said Kedesh. “What’s your story, Artorius?”

“I’m from Avalon,” he
said sullenly. He seemed unwilling to say any more.

“That’s all I managed
to get out of him,” said Ravana with a sigh. “The greys were in
cages in a laboratory at the dome. Artorius persuaded me to bring
them with us.”

Kedesh gave a wry
grin. “I’m sure you’ve annoyed a fair few people by doing so.”

Ravana remained
cautious. “You seem very casual about the fact there’s two
supposedly mythical extra-terrestrials aboard your transport,” she
remarked. “Aren’t you even a tiny bit curious about them?”

“Apart from their
interesting choice of attire? I’m sure we’ll get to that later,”
said Kedesh, returning Ravana’s stare coolly. “At the moment it’s
yours and Artorius’ story that is hitting wide. Any idea why you
two may be of interest to the Dhusarians?”

Ravana paused, then
slowly shook her head.

“I’ve been monitoring
local police channels.” Kedesh’s tone made it clear she knew Ravana
was keeping something from her. She picked up the second cup of tea
and took a careful sip before continuing. “There’s been an unusual
amount of chatter lately, considering that the number of agents
fielding this wicket can be counted on one hand.”

“Thraak?”

“Yes, a human
hand.”

“No one came looking
for me,” Ravana said sadly. “No one missed me.”

“Ravana has no
friends!” sniggered Artorius.

“Fwack fwack!”

“Thank you, Stripy,”
said Ravana. “But Artorius is right. I made no friends at the dig.
The tutors were too busy arguing over findings to notice me. They
probably think I ran out on them and took the ship back to
Ascension.”

“No one at all?”

Ravana hesitated.
“There’s a boy called Xuthus,” she said coyly. “I’d met him before,
at the peace conference on Daode, so he talked to me
sometimes.”

“A boy, eh?” remarked
Kedesh.

“Fwack fwack!”

“It’s not like that!”
protested Ravana, feeling embarrassed. Artorius gave a snorting
laugh that sounded far too dirty to be from the innocent mouth of
an eight-year-old. “Anyway, enough about me and my lack of friends.
What brings you to Falsafah?”