Paw-Prints Of The Gods (31 page)

“Nyx!” she hissed.
“He’s coming over!”

“I don’t think he
knows me,” said Endymion. “You hide in the tunnel.”

Ostara gave the
newly-exposed hole a wary look. “Down there?”

“Yes! And be
quiet!”

She dropped to the
floor, swung her legs into the opening and shimmied down the ladder
into the shadows. Moments later, the tent flap was pulled aside by
a policeman’s half-clenched hand and a shaft of red daylight
dispelled the gloom. Ostara caught a glimpse of the newcomer’s face
and shivered. Nyx was not in uniform but nevertheless still carried
the look of a law-enforcement officer not easily impressed.

“What’s all this?” he
asked gruffly. “I didn’t know we had works scheduled.”

“Emergency repairs,”
Endymion told him. “A minor leak, that’s all.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you have a permit?”

“Of course,” Endymion
retorted.

They had expected this
question. Ostara heard a rustling as Endymion went to his bag and
withdrew a certificate that an hour ago had taken pride of place
upon her office wall. She watched him hand it to Nyx, who studied
it carefully.

“This says ‘Private
Investigator Licence’,” the officer observed.

“It’s a sewage system
inspection permit,” Endymion pointed out. “Ignore the ‘private
investigator’ bit; some joker in Verdandi’s office did that. It is
signed by the Administrator.”

“Investigating the
dregs of society, eh?”

Endymion grinned.
“Something like that.”

Ostara could tell Nyx
smelt a rat. The odour wafting up from her hiding place was a lot
more real and hopefully enough to persuade him to go away. After an
overly-long pause, Nyx handed back the certificate, gave a curt nod
to Endymion and eased his tall frame from the tent. Endymion stared
after him for a few moments and then gave a sigh of relief.

“That was close,” he
murmured.

“Has he gone?” Ostara
called. Her voice echoed eerily in the tunnel.

Endymion fastened the
flap closed and came to the edge of the hole. Ostara stood at the
bottom of the ladder some three metres below, with a boot either
side of the sluggish stream of effluent running along the floor.
She was not happy to have discovered that there was a genuine leak
after all. Newbrum’s water and power systems were supposed to be
sealed and the service tunnels kept dry.

“All clear,” Endymion
confirmed.

“This place smells
terrible,” she complained. “Can we get a move on?”

Endymion collected his
bag and joined her at the bottom of the ladder. The unlit tunnel
ran east to west along the length of Broad Street, with smaller
passageways splitting off to the north and south at regular
intervals. There was barely enough room even for the diminutive
Ostara to stand upright, while the pipes and cable conduits
attached to the walls on either side made the walkway narrow. The
hard hats procured by Endymion had tiny lamps upon the brim, but
once away from the opening to the street the light they emitted did
little to make the tunnel feel less claustrophobic.

They had gone just a
few metres when Endymion directed Ostara to a smaller tunnel to the
south. The smell was worse than ever; a large pipe had cracked
where it curved around the corner, leaking raw sewage. Hands over
their noses, Endymion and Ostara stepped over the pool of fetid
brown sludge and slipped into the side passage. The beams of their
hard-hat lamps revealed the low tunnel was mercifully short. Ahead
they saw a circular hatch, next to which various pipes and cables
disappeared through the surrounding wall.

“With any luck, this
door is our way into the building,” said Endymion.

“I’d settle for
anywhere with fresh air,” muttered Ostara.

Endymion produced a
crank handle from inside his flight suit, slotted it into a hole in
the hatch and turned it until they both heard the clunk as locking
bolts withdrew. When he caught Ostara’s quizzical expression, he
adopted such a guilty look she did not have the heart to ask him
how he came to possess such a useful tool.

He pulled open the
hatch and they scrambled through the opening into the cramped
basement beyond. The lights were on, revealing water treatment
units, electrical distribution boxes and other apparatus for the
building above. A door on the far side led them to a room filled
with sacks of rubbish, the delicate odour of rat faeces and a
blood-smeared freezer cabinet that smelt of raw meat. A faint
murmur of voices came from the corridor beyond.

“The church hall is in
the basement,” Endymion whispered, as he switched off their
hard-hat lamps. “So it must be somewhere on this level.”

“We need to find
somewhere to hide,” murmured Ostara. “What if we bump into Nyx or
your sister, or anyone else for that matter? Do I look like a
maintenance worker?”

Endymion smiled and
beckoned for her to follow him down the corridor. They were forced
into the shadows a few hurried steps later, alarmed by the sight of
a group of people at the far end of the passage, who immediately
turned and disappeared again through a door on the right. Another
doorway along the same wall was just a few paces away. Scuttling
forward, Ostara paused and squinted through the glass panel into
the gloomy space beyond.

“Bingo!” she
murmured.

“What is it?”

“I can see an old
bingo machine,” she whispered. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this
easy, but your little plan has led us straight to the back door of
the hall. Clever boy!”

Endymion shrugged. “I
do my best. Shall we go in?”

The door was of a type
that was supposed to slide open as someone approached, but like
many things in Newbrum it wore a large ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign.
Ostara’s nimble fingers managed to prise it open enough for them to
slip silently through into the hall beyond. They found themselves
behind a convenient stack of spare chairs, in a dusty corner near
the left-hand side of the stage. The murmur of voices was now much
louder and when Ostara and Endymion peered from their hiding place,
the weak orange glow emanating from the ceiling telepathy
transmitters revealed the hall was nearly full. Ostara gave
Endymion a nudge as she caught a glimpse of his sister, standing at
the far end of the hall next to a girl with purple hair. They
seemed to be deep in discussion, with Bellona showing the girl the
open pages of a paper-leafed book, but were too far away to be
heard.

“What does that sign
mean?” Endymion whispered.

Ostara looked to where
he pointed and gave an involuntarily shiver at the sight of a large
banner that read: ‘ALL THAT IS PART DOES BELONG’. She was just
about to reply when Endymion pulled her down behind the stacked
chairs.

The lean muscular
figure of Nyx appeared on stage before the giant swirly-star
backdrop, dressed in a long black cape that to Ostara looked
decidedly creepy. Behind him came two figures clad in hooded grey
cloaks, worn with blue sashes patterned with what looked like
astrological symbols. A hush fell upon the hall as Nyx took his
place at the makeshift lectern. Ostara remembered they were there
to collect evidence and barely had time to twist her wristpad
camera lens towards the stage when he began to speak.

“Welcome, brothers and
sisters!” Nyx cried. “This is an auspicious night. The fate of the
twelve was cruelly twisted by the evil one but righteousness has
prevailed! The disciples have emerged from the void to lead us the
way. The time of deliverance is near!”

“Evil one?” whispered
Ostara.

“Shush!” hissed
Endymion.

“Priest Taranis, our
guide of guides, faced the demon king Ravana in his incarnation as
a treacherous she-devil. She turned against her guiding star and
stole what was not hers!” Nyx paused. “The holy
Isa-Sastra
was lost. We endured further despair when Brother Cadmus, our loyal
servant on Falsafah, fell also to her evil curse. Yet a member of
this very church valiantly went amongst unbelievers and delivered
the texts unto us. The prophecy of Falsafah has been revealed. Soon
the reborn traveller will take his place at the door between worlds
and the first true meeting of minds will commence!”

“Did he just mention
Ravana?” whispered Ostara. “I mean, our Ravana?”

Endymion looked as
confused as she was. “Prophecies are stupid,” he muttered.

“Praise the greys!”
cried the congregation.

Ostara stifled a
shriek. The two figures behind Nyx stepped forward, then with a
dramatic flourish extended six-fingered hands and lowered their
hoods. Their lizard-like features glistened in the dim orange light
of the hall. Ostara’s thoughts immediately leapt back to the
dreadful encounter in the engine room of the
Dandridge Cole
.
She had been there with Ravana and Zotz at the birth of Taranis’
disciples. She had hoped never to see them again, yet here were two
of the twelve, alive in Newbrum.

She heard a gasp of
pain from Endymion and realised she had grabbed his hand in panic
and squeezed his fingers tight. Something made her look towards the
seated audience and every expression she saw was stricken with
shock. As she turned her wristpad to the congregation to record
their reaction, the glow of the telepathy transmitters intensified
and she was disquieted to see the transfixed faces relax and become
strangely blissful.

“Tonight, our
planetary guides reveal their true forms for the first time!” cried
Nyx. There were no transmitters above the stage and Ostara realised
Nyx’s sly smile was the expression of one relishing the act of
control. “Mina and Vrscika; two of twelve to lead five systems to
one glorious future! They are the water that will cleanse humankind
of its folly; they are alpha and omega, strength and wisdom, man
and grey!”

“zz-iin-yyoouur-heeaad-bee-iit-zz!” rasped the monks in unison.

“And be it in yours!”
cried the congregation.

“Who are these
freaks?” whispered Endymion, shocked.

“Taranis’
cyberclones!” Ostara hissed. “Nyx has them under his control!”

* * *

[Chapter Nine
]
[
Contents
] [
Chapter Eleven
]

TAU CETI HAD SET by
the time the rattling transport clambered unsteadily up the
receding slopes of the valley. Their journey past the charred
horrors of the canyon was tense but in the end uneventful, though
Kedesh, Ravana, Artorius and the greys remained on edge until the
headlamps once again fell upon the road. They emerged just a few
kilometres north of the airstrip, but the scanner revealed some
good news in that the Que Qiao police cruiser had gone. When the
navigation console finally managed to link with Falsafah’s
satellite, it revealed the blip of a small spacecraft, high above
the mountains, halfway between themselves and the Arallu
Wastes.

Kedesh had by now
cleaned herself up after her battle with the spiders and swapped
places with Ravana at the controls, leaving Artorius and the greys
to doze in the cabin behind. The depot ahead at the end of the road
slowly resolved into a squat grey dome, similar to the Dhusarian
enclave that Ravana, Artorius and the greys had left behind over
two Terran days ago. The dome nestled in a natural hollow and the
surrounding dunes were littered with an astonishing profusion of
solar panels, far more than would be expected to power a small
outpost on a planet relatively near to its sun. The gravel road led
straight to a large airlock in the side of the dome that lit up
beneath the light of a red warning beacon as they drew near,
awakened to their presence by automatic sensors.

The airlock entrance
slid open. Kedesh guided the clattering transport into a crescendo
of noise from the labouring engine and brought the vehicle to a
halt. After a short pause, the inner door opened and Kedesh drove
into the hangar, brought the transport to a stop next to the
remains of another dilapidated vehicle and killed the engine.
Ravana stared blankly through the cracked windscreen at the
surrounding hangar, subdued by the silence. Beside her, Kedesh
slumped back in her seat and wearily rubbed her eyes.

“I thought you said
this place was abandoned,” murmured Ravana.

“Years ago,” the woman
replied. She lowered her hands. “Oh no. Not again.”

At the far end of the
hangar, regarding them coolly, a dark-haired woman leaned casually
in the exit doorway. She was tall and slim with olive skin and wore
a long coat of black and silver fur totally inappropriate for the
utilitarian surroundings of the hangar. Yet what captivated
Ravana’s attention were the woman’s piercing yellow eyes, which
scrutinised the transport in the manner of a cat contemplating a
bowl of cream. As their gazes met, the woman gave a knowing smile
and promptly vanished right before their eyes. Ravana caught a
glimpse of something small and furry leaping lightly away through
the open door and then it too was gone. The door slid closed with a
hiss.

“Did you see her?”
exclaimed Ravana. “She just disappeared!”

Kedesh glanced at her
with a strange expression both secretive and annoyed.

“See who?” asked
Artorius grumpily, disturbed from his slumber.

“I saw a woman,”
Ravana said weakly, when she realised Kedesh was deliberately
staying silent. “Who seemed to turn into a cat.”

Artorius slipped from
his bunk to look through the windscreen and frowned at the empty
hangar. Behind him, the greys emerged from their own slumber,
looking none too pleased that the boy had awoken them in turn.

“Fwack?” asked Stripy,
sounding grouchy.

“Ghosts!” exclaimed
Artorius.

Ravana gave Kedesh a
pleading look.