Paw-Prints Of The Gods (45 page)

“Kedesh reckoned she
used to play for Kent,” Ravana replied, her words tinged with
sarcasm. “Of course, that may have been another lie.”

“And the cannon?”
Quirinus raised an eyebrow. “Is there some bloodthirsty version of
ultra-cricket they play in Beckenham I should be aware of?”

Ravana grinned and
picked up the cannon. It felt good in her hands, though part of her
was disturbed that the thought of using it against the Dhusarians
did not immediately fill her with horror. Her father too looked
discomfited by the sight of her wielding the battlefield gun. It
occurred to her that if it came to calling someone’s bluff, such a
weapon would look a lot more scary in the hands of the burly
one-eyed pilot than if carried by herself.

“Shall we swap?” she
suggested. “The cartridge only has two shots left, though.”

Quirinus solemnly took
the offered weapon and handed back the bat. With the gun on his
shoulder he became the quintessential fierce freedom fighter and
Ravana found herself looking at her father in a new light. He never
talked about his own life during her childhood years on Yuanshi and
she wondered whether he had seen action in the civil war.

“Does that take you
back, too?” she asked tentatively.

She heard a bleep. Her
father glanced at his wristpad and gave a wry grin.

“Momus has finished
refuelling the ship,” he said. “It looks like we’re good to
go.”

* * *

Artorius stared
fearfully around the hot, dusty dome and rubbed his tear-stained
eyes, his movements hampered by the manacles upon his wrists. Nana
and Stripy stood beside him, silent and similarly bound. The nasty
military robot before them had kept its plasma rifle trained their
way ever since they arrived at the archaeological site. Kedesh was
with them and had limped away to lean upon a convenient
wheelbarrow, but was not a prisoner like himself and the greys. She
had barely said a word since Jizo’s transport docked with their own
in the night, nor answered any of his questions about Ravana.

Lilith stood next to
the robot, looking to where Jizo crouched and stared into the
nearby trench with a touch-screen slate in one hand and a
half-empty bottle of wine in the other. Artorius was tired,
confused and very scared. Everyone was being horrible to him but at
the same time strangely wary, though he did not know why.

There was a large
black tent on the far side of the dome, not far from where they had
entered through the walkway from Jizo’s transport. Two cloaked
figures stood inside the tent, half-hidden in the shadows. The
young Arab man, whom Lilith called Dagan, appeared from a tunnel
behind and hurried towards the tent. Artorius had heard voices from
the neighbouring dome but as yet seen no trace of the
archaeologists Ravana had spoken about. As for the dig itself, the
dark hole in the pit was lit by a strange flickering green light
that made him think of the Tintagel Worm Charmers challenge in
Gods of Avalon
, where contestants crawled into a
subterranean monster’s lair never to be seen again. It was not a
nice thought.

The two figures left
the tent and with a stilted, inhuman gait came towards them. Both
were unnaturally tall and wore grey hooded habits secured with red
and silver sashes. Lilith and Jizo turned to greet them, their
faces creased with nervous smiles. Kedesh frowned and twitched a
hand towards the pistol in her belt.

“This is your big
day!” Jizo hissed to Artorius. “The brothers on Ascension now have
what the girl stole. Soon you will take your place between worlds
and bring forth the truth!”

Lilith frowned. “You
seem remarkably informed for a fat stupid nurse.”

“You make it sound
like the Oracle at Delphi,” mused Kedesh, eyeing Jizo cautiously.
“Is that the boy’s destiny? To sit in a fume-filled temple and
spout gibberish?”

“Be quiet!” snapped
Jizo. “You’ve delayed us enough already. The plan was to bring him
straight to us, not take him on a sight-seeing tour of
Falsafah!”

“I had to play the
long game with Ravana to find out how much she knew.”

“That damn girl nearly
ruined everything,” muttered Lilith. “Where is she now?”

Kedesh glanced at
Artorius, then gave Lilith a sly smile.

“Ravana is dead,” she
said. Artorius’ eyes went wide. “I killed her. You said the boy was
the only one of value for what you have planned here.”

“Ravana is not dead,”
mumbled Artorius. “She was to take me home.”

“What home?” spat
Jizo. “You’re just a poor, unloved little orphan.”

The two robed figures
reached the trench, lowered their hoods and regarded Jizo with a
steely glare. Artorius went pale at the sight of their cruel,
lizard-like features, so unlike the friendly faces of the greys. He
remembered what Ravana had said about them being both alien and
human, created by a mad priest for reasons he could not remember.
Dagan was at their heels, clutching a couple of large lamps on
folded metal tripods.

“Thraak,” Nana
murmured sadly. “Thraak thraak.”

“Fwack,” agreed
Stripy.

“zz-siileencee-zz!”
shrieked the nearest of the lizard men. Startled, Artorius clutched
Nana’s arm in alarm.
“zz-thee-oold-oonee-dooees-noot-beeliieevee-zz!”

“Brother Cadmus is
dead,” Lilith remarked. “Who will guide us now?”

“We have Taranis’
texts,” said Jizo, speaking with uncharacteristic authority. She
held up the slate. “The inscription on the archway is that of the
prophecy. Our little star man is ready. The archaeologists have
opened the chamber and the way is clear.”

“We’re going in
there?” Artorius looked at the ragged hole in the excavated
archway.

Lilith nudged him
towards the ladder into the trench, then motioned for Dagan to
remove the greys. The man looked uncomfortable in their presence
and flinched when his first attempt to lead them away was met by a
rapid staccato of slaps from Stripy. Artorius started sobbing and
made a grab for the grey’s hand. Jizo promptly clamped an arm
around his neck, dragged him away and dropped him over the edge of
the pit. The bottle in her hand caught him across the ribs and he
cried out in pain.

“Was there any need
for that?” murmured Kedesh, perturbed.

Jizo scowled. “You’ve
done your job,” she retorted. “Now let me do mine.”

Artorius glowered from
the dust of the trench. He had never liked Jizo. Kedesh was
supposed to be his friend, only she had proved not to be trusted
just like every other grown-up he had met. Ravana had been nice to
him but now she and the greys were gone. He had seen what happened
on
Gods of Avalon
when contestants were split from their
team mates and friends. He was frightened, but the grinning sneer
of Jizo had awoken something new. Slowly but surely, his fear was
hardening into hate.

* * *

The
Platypus
rocketed fast and low across the desert, on a heading that mirrored
the sparkling line of silver that now wound through the ancient red
dunes. The breached aquifer at Arallu Depot was pouring water down
an ancient tributary of the main delta, towards the distant dig. It
was the first river to flow across the Arallu Wastes for many
millennia.

“So,” said Quirinus
cautiously. “What’s so special about this boy we’re to rescue?”

“Artorius? I’m not
sure. He’s an annoying little brat at the best of times,” Ravana
told him. “It’s cute the way he’s made friends with the greys,
though.”

She had taken the
co-pilot’s seat, much to the chagrin of Momus, who now found
himself relegated to the outer starboard position on the other side
of her piloting father. Zotz sat to her left, leaving Fornax and
Philyra to make do with the couch inside the carousel, which even
when not broken did not spin in atmospheric flight. Ravana’s
electric cat, having received a quick recharge after its recent
adventures, formed a reassuring lump upon her lap. Her stroking of
the pet seemed innocent enough, but Ravana was thinking about what
Kedesh had told her about special-forces implants, whilst mentally
scrolling through the command functions of her own device. She had
once before managed to operate circuitry that did not have a proper
implant interface and was looking for a clue on how to do it
again.

She was about to give
up when her fingers caught a hitherto-unsuspected switch beneath
the fake fur. Ravana gave a muted squeak of surprise as the cat’s
inner workings promptly leapt into her mind, from its power cell
and alloy skeleton to the smallest actuator and wire. The sight of
the tangled web of Woomerberg Syndrome tendrils brought forth an
involuntary shudder, for she could not help thinking of the silver
lines within her own scars. A hurried mental swipe cleared the
image from her head. Her cat remained oblivious to her probing and
nibbled upon a small foil packet pulled unseen from her jumpsuit
pocket.

Quirinus glanced
across. “Are you warm enough?”

Ravana realised her
father had mistaken her shiver for one of cold. Eager for a change
of clothes, she had rifled through what Kedesh had left behind in
the transport, to find that the woman’s wardrobe was essentially
several versions of the same thing. The black sleeveless jumpsuit
was nonetheless a good fit; although shorter than Kedesh, Ravana
was equally slim but filled the tailoring far better, leaving her
secretly pleased that someone had a chest flatter than hers. She
smiled at her father’s reaction, who seemed perturbed by the
reminder that beneath her usual baggy flight suit his teenage
daughter was becoming a woman.

“I’m fine,” she
reassured him. Disquieted by the memory of seeing her pet’s
innards, she pushed it gently to the floor. “If you’re referring to
what I’m wearing, all my spare clothes are at the dig. You should
have seen what Philyra offered to lend me!”

Zotz paused in his
attempts to pull the lump of foil from the cat’s paws and smiled.
Beneath her survival suit, Philyra had gone for a crop top and an
incredibly short skirt, in a sartorial display that had annoyed
Fornax and tongue-tied Momus in equal measure. The cat released its
grip and Zotz tore open the small silver package.

“Chocolate cake!” he
exclaimed.

Ravana snatched it
from him and returned it to her pocket. “The cake that launched a
thousand hips,” she mused. Kedesh’s mania for cake got
everywhere.

The
Platypus
hit turbulence and began to shake. Ravana’s implant was linked to
the ship’s AI and through the network of tendrils she could sense
the unnatural strain the heavy gravity was putting on the craft’s
frame, a situation not helped by the boosters strapped to the hull.
While her father eased the ship back into line, she cast an eye
over the external camera views. Ahead, the new runway beside the
archaeologists’ cluster of domes was coming into view. There were
two other ships already parked in the desert nearby.

“Five kilometre
warning,” said the AI.

“This is a lot
smoother than last time,” Zotz remarked.

“It’s damn frigging
slower,” muttered Momus, with a grudging nod of approval.

Ravana selected the
control to lower the wheels and waited for the four clunks as the
undercarriage dropped into position. She moved a hand to the
communication console, paused and glanced to her father, who
nodded. Ravana opened an audio channel.

“This is Ravana
O’Brien of freighter
Platypus
calling the Arallu archaeology
expedition,” she said. “Doctor Jones, Professor Cadmus, are you
receiving me? Over.”

The cabin speakers
buzzed with static, but that was all. Ravana sighed.

“Still no response,”
she remarked. “I do hope they’re alright.”

“We’ll find out soon
enough,” said Quirinus.

The
Platypus
swooped towards the beckoning runway. The blur of desert resolved
into a series of gullies and dunes, then with a screech of tyres
they were down and coasting to a halt. As they shot past the site
itself, Ravana caught a glimpse of the transport linked to dome
two. It had been three weeks since her disappearance from Arallu
Depot. Something told her she was not about to be welcomed back
with open arms.

* * *

Xuthus stared sullenly
at the heavily-built infantry android, which had diligently watched
over them for what seemed like days. Doctor Jones, Hestia, Urania,
the two Que Qiao officers and himself were seated on hard ground
with their backs to one of the habitation cabins, all nervously
awaiting their fate. The young Arab man had threatened to tie them
up if they tried any heroics, but in the end had settled for taking
away Ininna’s and Yima’s police-issue pistols, though not before
giving the robot orders to shoot anyone who attempted to escape.
Yima had tried and received a low-energy plasma blast in his arm
for his trouble; Dagan let Hestia tend the wound but after that the
mood amongst the captives went rapidly downhill. The noise of
spacecraft engines outside had not been cause for celebration.

“Anything happening?”
remarked Doctor Jones.

“I can’t see anyone,”
replied Xuthus, who had a limited line of sight through the walkway
tunnel into dome two, not that there was much to see. “I think
they’re still in the chamber.”

“What about the little
boy?” asked Hestia.

“Him too,” Xuthus said
irritably.

The android’s angular
head suddenly twitched and turned towards the entrance to the
nearby transport hangar. A hiss of escaping air broke the hush of
the dome and red warning lights began to flash, signifying that
someone was depressurising the hangar from outside. There was a
series of clunks, followed by a loud clattering as a compressor
started up to flood the hangar with air. The sound now coming from
behind the airlock door was the unmistakeable thump of boots and
murmur of voices.