Paw-Prints Of The Gods (30 page)

Selene’s earlier hint
about a possible reward had encouraged Bellona to think about
studying the
Isa-Sastra
properly, in case the inner circle
decided to throw a few questions her way to test her faith. In
Bellona’s hand was the old grey book, Fenris’ copy of the Dhusarian
texts, while on the slate screen before her now was the same book
as given to her when she joined the Newbrum church. Except it was
not the same.

Fenris had underlined
many sections in his paper copy of the book. As she flicked through
the densely-printed pages, Bellona was startled to find marked in
this way a passage regarding Maharaja Ravana of Yuanshi, the reborn
demon king of Lanka. Intrigued, she read with fascination the
prophecy of a warrior boy king, destined to unite the people of
Lanka and Ayodhya under one rule and free the moon of Yuanshi from
its oppressors. She found it hard to reconcile this tale with the
Ravana she knew, the shy Indian girl with the scarred face, who had
sided with Raja Surya at the peace conference. Yet what disturbed
her more was that the story was missing from the
Isa-Sastra
given to her by the Newbrum church. It did not seem right to
Bellona that holy texts could be edited in this way, for part of
her felt that no one had a right to tell her how to shape her own
beliefs.

Bellona read the
passage again, this time looking for clues that it was indeed about
the Ravana she knew, but found nothing other than that her
Isa-Sastra
namesake shared the same birthplace of Lanka. She
dimly recalled talk of a prophecy after Ravana and the others
returned from their confrontation with Taranis on the
Dandridge
Cole
, but she had been busy nursing the wounded Quirinus and
had not paid much attention. Bellona thought it odd that anyone
still believed in such things as prophecies, yet could see why
Ravana O’Brien may have been intrigued enough to relieve Taranis of
the original texts.

A shadow fell across
her slate and she looked up to see that Selene had arrived, dressed
as always in her customary black. Bellona was surprised to see Nyx
coming up behind, wearing his police uniform and looking irritable
and weary, though it was hard to be sure as his eyes were masked by
his visor. Selene seemed a little annoyed by Nyx’s presence but
nonetheless greeted Bellona with a pleasant smile.

“Hello Bellona,” she
said. “You have some news for me?”

“Will this take long?”
snapped Nyx, frowning. “I’ve just got back from mopping up the mess
at Thunor and I need to get some sleep before tonight’s service. We
must also attend to the funeral arrangements for our departed
Dhusarian Brother.”

“I didn’t ask you to
come,” hissed Selene. “I can handle this!”

Nyx removed his visor,
gave her a scathing look and impolitely pushed her aside.

“Well?” he asked,
staring at Bellona. “Did you get the book from the Indian
girl?”

“My brother said it’s
been confiscated by Administrator Verdandi,” Bellona said,
stammering slightly. She did not like the way he towered over her
and climbed to her feet. Her answer had not pleased the police
officer one bit. “But Ravana made a copy at school,” she added
quickly. “It should be on the network somewhere.”

“A copy?” Nyx growled.
“The sly little bitch!”

“Nyx!” exclaimed
Selene, clearly shocked by his reaction.

“The thieving cow! How
dare she mistreat the sacred texts!”

“You forget you are
talking about one of Bellona’s friends,” murmured Selene warily.
“Besides, this is good news. If we can’t get the original texts
from Verdandi, the copy may be sufficient for what the brothers
need on Falsafah.”

“What that dreadful
girl and her friends did was unforgivable!” Nyx retorted. “They
committed Taranis and the twelve to a lingering death. What
happened on
Sky Cleaver
was a direct consequence of their
meddling!”

Bellona watched as
Selene shot him a warning look. The grisly rumours regarding the
fate of the cloud-mining crew were the talk of Newbrum, but Bellona
could not imagine how that was linked to what had happened on the
Dandridge Cole
all those months before. It was the way Nyx
spoke of Ravana that troubled her most.

“Ravana is named in
the
Isa-Sastra
,” Bellona said cautiously, wondering how much
Nyx knew. “How can you say such horrible things like that?”

Selene looked
surprised. “Is she?”

“Take no notice,” Nyx
said. “The Church of Ascension does not recognise the Book of New
Prophecies. You should not waste your time studying discredited
texts.”

“There’s other texts?
Since when?” asked Selene. Bellona caught her glance, which
suggested that like her, Selene too was disturbed by the thought
that the
Isa-Sastra
was not the immutable theological rock
they assumed the church had been built upon. “Are there any more
prophecies we should know about?”

Nyx glared at her.
“Right now, Falsafah is the only one that matters.”

* * *

Endymion went back to
work after accompanying Ostara and her new holovid unit to her
Sherlock Street office. She quickly became engrossed in the
unedited BBC report and was still sat in front of the screen when
he returned at the end of his shift some hours later. She had been
busy in his absence and one entire wall of her office was now
covered in sticky-taped scraps of paper, upon which she had
scribbled various words and phrases. There were more scrawled notes
on her desk and the floor.

“The BBC had a really
neat screen that filled a whole wall,” Ostara explained, seeing
Endymion’s bemused expression. “This is the penniless detective’s
version.”

Endymion read a few of
the notes and smiled. “Anything useful in that report?”

Ostara shrugged. “The
Dhusarian Church of Ascension is quite tame compared to that of
Yuanshi,” she said. “In Lanka, it was very much part of the
rebellion against Que Qiao. The report says its swirly star symbol
is banned on Yuanshi, which explains why I don’t remember seeing
it. Here in Newbrum, the Church is seen as just another bizarre yet
harmless cult. They even have Que Qiao employees in the
congregation.”

Endymion’s eyes
narrowed. “I thought the corporation was against membership.”

“That might have
changed,” said Ostara. “One of the Dhusarians interviewed for the
report was a police officer called Captain Nyx. He’s the arrogant
swine who gave me such a hard time at my interview. The law
enforcement contract in the Barnard’s Star system is held by IATL,
which was taken over by the Que Qiao Corporation three years
ago.”

“How do you know all
that?”

“The public network
portal for Newbrum police makes no secret of it. What scares me is
Nyx has political ambitions; there’s a rumour he’s to run for the
new Administrator post at Lan-Tlanto at the next elections,” she
said, referring to the independent spaceport on the far side of
Ascension. “The authorities want to bring a bit of law and order to
the place.”

She idly shuffled the
pieces of paper on her desk, awaiting Endymion’s response. Her eyes
remained upon him as he moved to stare out of the window.

“What’s your next
move, detective?” he asked eventually.

“I know you’re worried
about Bellona,” she said. “To be honest, the church looks pretty
harmless to me. I’d really like to see one of their services, but
if Nyx or your sister catches sight of me they’re bound to get
suspicious. Do you know that building at all?” she asked, after
some hesitation. “I was wondering if there was a way I could sneak
in.”

Endymion turned back
and went to shake his head, then paused. His gaze had fallen upon
her framed Private Investigator Licence hanging on the wall.

“There is a way,” he
said and smiled. “With overalls, hard hats and a tent.”

* * *

Fornax strode across
the hangar towards the berthed spacecraft and tried her best to
look confident. Her luggage, trundling patiently in her wake,
carried a few changes of clothes and the last of her Pinot Noir.
Hidden in a secret compartment was her prized cambot, a
rotor-driven miniature flying camera.

After their initial
reconnaissance she had sent Philyra home, for what she was about to
attempt was foolish in the extreme. Nevertheless, Fornax missed her
company, for the young girl had local knowledge of which automatic
doors were faulty, which escalators did not work and which of the
annoying advertising holograms were the most persistent. Fornax was
all too aware that her clumsy progress around the spaceport dome
had been noticed.

The spacecraft before
her was the
Atterberg Epiphany
, the name of which she had
seen printed upon the box lid that served as a sample tray at the
Outer Limits Emporium. The ship was a Taotie-class angular
flying-wing, with a large rear-loading cargo bay designed to hold a
six-wheeled ground transport. Fornax recognised the type of
spacecraft as that used by Que Qiao as a multi-purpose personnel
carrier on airless worlds, but the markings upon this particular
ship’s dull black fuselage identified it as a privately-owned
vessel.

Compared to somewhere
like Los Angeles Galactic, security at Newbrum spaceport was
laughable. Fornax used her charms upon an unsuspecting male
spaceport worker, who revealed the
Atterberg Epiphany
was a
recent acquisition of the Dhusarian Church of Yuanshi. Her
enquiries also brought the intriguing news that the ship, having
flown in from Lanka on Yuanshi, was due to depart for Falsafah
within the next few hours.

The mysterious hooded
figures who flew in on the ship had unnerved a great many people at
the spaceport, though no one could satisfactorily explain why. The
young Indian woman guarding the spacecraft’s open hatch was no more
welcoming. She wore a black flight suit, a pair of mirror
sunglasses and a scowl that deepened as Fornax approached.

“Can I help you?” she
snapped.

“I do hope so,” Fornax
said gaily. “The church asked me to accompany you so that I can
join our comrades on Falsafah. We have important work to do,
kid.”

“Comrades?”

“Brothers,” Fornax
hastily corrected. “Sisters?” she suggested, seeing the woman’s
suspicious stare. Her bluff was not going well.

“Sorry I’m late!” came
a voice from behind.

Fornax turned and to
her dismay saw Philyra trotting across the hangar, though for a
moment struggled to recognise her, for the girl’s dark locks were
now dyed a vivid purple. A bag hung from the shoulder of her
tightly-belted flight suit. Philyra had gone overboard on make-up
in an attempt to look older than fifteen, albeit with limited
success.

“What are you doing
here?” hissed Fornax. “And what’s with the hair?”

“Who are you?” asked
the woman. “This is a restricted area!”

“I’m Sister Selene
from Newbrum Church,” said Philyra and held out her hand. “I see
you’ve already met Sister Gabriel, who’s visiting us from the
United States.”

Fornax caught on
quickly. She gave the Indian woman a suitably haughty expression
and was most annoyed when it was ignored. The woman looked at
Philyra’s offered hand as if debating whether the girl’s wristpad
was worth stealing.

“That’s right!” Fornax
declared defiantly. “I am Sister, err... Gabriel, sent from the
Dhusarian Church of California with special instructions to report
back on our operations on Falsafah. These are interesting times, do
you not agree?”

The woman was not
convinced. “Stay there while I check,” she said coldly.

She took a few steps
back, tapped the screen of her own wristpad and entered into an
urgent hushed conversation. Fornax pulled Philyra aside and shook
her head in irritation.

“I told you to go
home,” she murmured. “This is too risky for you to be
involved!”

“My mum said it’s okay
for me to come with you,” Philyra whispered in return. Fornax
frowned and wondered whether the girl had mentioned to her parents
that being the reporter’s assistant might involve a trip to Tau
Ceti. “You need me! My friend Bellona told me all about her weird
Dhusarian friends and I can help us get on that ship.”

“You’re mad,” Fornax
told her.

The woman finished her
wristpad conversation and noisily cleared her throat to attract
their attention. She wore the disappointed look of an arsonist who
had applied for a job in the fire brigade without checking to see
what it actually involved.

“We have never heard
of a Sister Gabriel,” the woman said slowly, eyeing Fornax
carefully, then shifted her stare to Philyra. “But they described
Selene to me and it seems to be you. We’ve received the holovid
file of some book you asked us to take to Falsafah. They didn’t say
you were to deliver it personally.”

“Change of plan,”
Philyra said swiftly. Fornax saw her expression and guessed the
girl had struck lucky with her chosen disguise. She wondered
whether to panic at the thought of being asked about a book of
which she had no knowledge. “I met Forn... err, Sister Gabriel at
the spaceport and so decided to accompany her to Tau Ceti. She’s
just arrived and hasn’t had time to report to the Church, you see.
I thought I’d brief her during the flight.”

“That’s very good,”
murmured Fornax, impressed.

The woman gave them
one last stare, then with a shrug of her shoulders stepped aside
and waved towards the door of the waiting spacecraft.

“Welcome aboard,” she
said. “We depart for Falsafah in one hour.”

* * *

Ostara peered from the
tent at the street outside. Behind her, Endymion had managed to
lift the heavy concrete lid in the road and stared cautiously into
the chamber below. Ostara felt foolish enough to be wearing tatty
overalls and a bright yellow hard hat, hiding in a square orange
tent in the middle of Broad Street whilst she and Endymion
pretended to be engineers, but now they had a new worry to contend
with. She darted back inside.