Hollow Moon (17 page)

Jaggarneth shot her a knowing glance. “Let’s move that
off the launch pad for a moment. All I will say is if the peace conference was
in anyway disrupted it would have unfortunate political consequences for both
Yuanshi and Daode.”

“And you would not want the governor of Daode to look
bad, would you?” the Maharani suggested slyly. “I do not approve of my son
being used as a political pawn.”

“It is Kartikeya’s limited ambition that has made him
reach for the low-hanging fruit,” Jaggarneth retaliated. “I am sorry it is your
son that is caught up in all of this, for I suspect you would otherwise approve
most heartily.”

The Maharani glared at him. “Find my son,” she snapped.
“Your politics disgust me.”

Without waiting for a response, she got up out of her
chair and walked to the window, leaving Fenris to close the holovid connection.

“Odious man!” she muttered, gazing out at the gardens
beyond.

“I can still hear you!” came Jaggarneth’s voice from the
holovid unit.

“Not for much longer,” muttered Fenris, reaching for the
power switch. Closing the case, he joined the Maharani at the window and awaited
her instructions.

“You must go to Yuanshi,” she told him. “I do not trust
Jaggarneth to do my bidding, let alone understand half the phrases he uses. How
dare he call my son a low-hanging fruit!”

“The only interstellar ship to hand is the
Platypus
and Quirinus refuses to go,” remarked Fenris. “He
made that quite clear.”

“So you said,” mused the Maharani. “Tell me your plan.”

“After I left Quirinus and that idiot security officer, I
spoke to a few people at the spaceport. The teacher and her pupils have been
invited to the peace conference to take part in the school band competition,
which Governor Atman is running to show how the five systems ‘can join together
in harmony’,” said Fenris. His scornful tone suggested he was not exactly
enthralled with the concept himself. “I also learned that as yet they have been
unable to find a ship to take them to Epsilon Eridani. That is when I invited
them to meet with you.”

“And here they are, stomping on my flowerbeds. How does
that help us?”

“If we can persuade Quirinus to take the Newbrum school
band to Daode, I can easily accompany them,” replied Fenris. “From there it is
but a short hop to Yuanshi.”

“Quirinus is hardly likely to be so charitable to total
strangers.”

“Ravana, his daughter, is musical. If she were to be
invited to join the band…?”

The Maharani regarded Fenris cautiously. His suggestion
was unusually devious and for a moment she found herself wondering if he had
planned it this way from the start.

“Send me Surya’s clone,” she said. “I should see to our
visitors. The clone will hopefully keep the children amused while I talk to the
tutor.”

Fenris took this as his cue to leave and after collecting
his case, left her alone in the room. The Maharani remained by the window for a
few more moments, then upon hearing the sound of shuffling footsteps turned to
see Surya’s cyberclone walking stiffly into view. With barely a glance at the
clone, she moved to a nearby wall mirror and scrutinised her reflection, deep
in thought as she pushed a length of hair behind her ear. Satisfied, she
stepped lightly across the room and paused near where the cyberclone waited by
the door.

“You are not my son,” she said sadly. “No matter how much
you look like him.”

Unbeknown to either the Maharani or Fenris, Miss Clymene
had decided the Newbrum band were duty-bound to serenade their host with a
segment of their planned conference performance as a thank-you for her
hospitality. The Maharani and the cyberclone thus arrived at the palace dining
hall to find Endymion, Bellona and Philyra sat in a semicircle, clutching their
instruments and staring in tense anticipation at the conductor’s baton Miss
Clymene held in her outstretched hand. Upon seeing the Maharani enter, Miss
Clymene nodded to her students and began to count them in.

“One, two, three! Two, two, three…!”

Maharani Uma reeled as the first discordant wail of
trombone, clarinet and flute rolled across the room. The hall quickly filled
with a cacophony of hoots, parps and squeaks as Endymion, Bellona and Philyra
put their half-hearted life and soul into a performance that whilst lacking in
finesse, was certainly loud and fast. Incredibly, somewhere within the
maelstrom of notes, the Maharani almost recognised what they were playing and
as the band’s confidence grew the piece did start to quiver with genuine signs
of life. Yet it was clear there were too few players to plug the huge gaps in
the aural canvas and it most definitely was not something she wanted to listen
to any longer than necessary. When the performance came to a close after
several excruciating minutes she was momentarily too stunned to clap.

“Did you recognise that?” she whispered to the
cyberclone.

“The notes and melody are a close approximation of
Constance Scott’s
Woden Waltz
from her
Barnard’s
Star Concerto
,” the clone replied.

Looking embarrassed, Endymion, Bellona and Philyra
lowered their instruments.

“Bravo!” cried the Maharani, clapping her hands. “Well
done!”

Miss Clymene bowed meekly. She was not used to praise.

“That was an excerpt from
Woden Waltz
by Scott,” she said. “Part of a musical montage we
have created to represent the five systems.”

“These are your best music students?”

“Our only music students,” Miss Clymene announced
proudly.

“That figures,” mused the Maharani. “Shall we eat?”

She directed Miss Clymene to the far end of the table,
who in turn beckoned to her students to join her. Six places had been set for
dinner: Endymion plumped for the chair to Miss Clymene’s right; Bellona sat to
the tutor’s left, opposite her brother, with Philyra taking the seat next to
her friend. The Maharani thought it was rather rude the way Philyra ignored
everyone to instead scowl at her wristpad, which had stopped working as soon
she had entered the palace. She gave a wry smile when she recalled she had
forgot to mention that the palace’s network shield was extremely fussy about
what electrical equipment could be used indoors.

Once her guests were settled, the Maharani took her seat
at the head of the table, opposite Miss Clymene, leaving Surya’s cyberclone to
take the vacant seat to her right. The food had already arrived and the table
held a variety of tantalising traditional Indian dishes.

“I trust you are all hungry,” said the Maharani. “As you
can see, we have been joined by my son’s cyberclone, which we are training to
assist in official duties.”

Surya’s clone smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet new
people.”

Bellona stared at the young boy sitting opposite Philyra.
Her friend beside her had managed to stand up, help herself to vegetables and
rice, then sit back down again all whilst continuing to tap angrily at her dead
wristpad.

“Amazing,” Bellona murmured. “Is he really…? Ow!” She
glared at Endymion, who upon seeing an opportunity for mischief had given her a
kick to shut her up.

Philyra looked up and glanced at Surya’s clone. “Really
what?”

“A really huge
Gods of Avalon
fan,” Endymion told her, helping himself to food. He
winked at Bellona, who stuck her tongue out at him as she rubbed her bruised
shin.

“No way!” exclaimed Philyra, abandoning her wristpad. “So
am I!”

“I hear Avalon is covering the peace conference in
Epsilon Eridani,” the Maharani noted, regarding Miss Clymene carefully. “Fenris
tells me you are representing Newbrum in the music competition. That must be
terribly exciting!”

“It is an honour,” Miss Clymene replied, eyeing a plate
of samosa pastries. “We are still trying to secure a flight to Daode but I’m
sure something will turn up.”

“Have you asked Quirinus, the pilot of the
Platypus
?” asked the Maharani innocently. “I believe he sometimes
accepts private charters.”

“I don’t think he would be interested in taking us,” said
Miss Clymene.

“He was very angry with your man,” observed Endymion.
“I’m not sure why.”

Bored with adult conversation, Philyra turned to Surya’s
clone. “Who do you like best in the current series?” she asked.

“I believe all the contestants are fine people,” the
clone replied diplomatically.

“I like Eve best,” Philyra told the clone. “She’s smart,
funny and kicks ass. Did you see the way she dealt with the zombie guards at
Blackfoot Dock?”

The clone paused while it downloaded everything that was
known about the
Gods of Avalon
show from
the palace network databanks, which was not much.

“Eve is a fine warrior,” it said at last.

“The young Indian girl is his daughter, is she not?” Miss
Clymene asked the Maharani. “I couldn’t help noticing the nasty scar on her
face. Could she not have treatment to remove it?”

“Ravana is Indian on her mother’s side,” the Maharani
confirmed, noting the hidden query in the teacher’s curiosity. She confined her
own dining to a small plate of salad. “Medical facilities on the
Dandridge
Cole
are basic. Life can be hard out here
on the fringes, which makes society’s obsession with physical perfection rather
superfluous. Were you aware of Ravana’s own musical prowess?” she added,
swiftly changing the subject. “Opportunities for public performance are however
sadly few and far between in our little community.”

“What does she play?” asked Miss Clymene, mildly
interested.

The Maharani had forgotten to ask Fenris that question.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I’m sure you will get a chance to ask her
later.”

“I hope so,” mused Miss Clymene. The Maharani inwardly
smiled, for she could almost see the teacher’s mind whirring exactly along the
lines she had hoped for.

“Do you really watch that show?” Bellona asked the clone,
disbelievingly.

“It is entertaining to watch celebrities outside their
normal lives,” the clone replied, somewhat conspicuously the only one not
partaking in the feast.

“See!” exclaimed Philyra.

“But it’s so cruel,” protested Bellona. “The monsters the
audience control are horrible and vicious. Some of the stars get really hurt.”

“They’re not exactly stars, are they?” retorted Endymion.
“The last time I watched it, the most famous person they had was known for
being an advertising hologram for cat food!”

“I remember her,” said Philyra. “She was voted off after
she lost a leg to a dragon.”

“Yuck!” Bellona pulled a face. “That’s horrible!”

“They sewed it back on afterwards,” Philyra reassured
her.

“What on Frigg are you four talking about?” exclaimed
Miss Clymene.

“
Gods of Avalon
,”
replied Bellona meekly.

“A truly terrible celebrity holovid show,” Endymion
explained to the Maharani.

“He likes it,” retorted Philyra, indicating the clone.
“He told me so. You don’t say much, do you? I can tell we’ve got a lot in
common, though,” she added, looking hopeful. She looked down at his empty
plate. “Are you not hungry?”

“You do not eat, do you?” the Maharani said to the clone.

“Maybe a drink then,” Philyra said, filling a glass with
orange juice. She leaned across the table and offered the glass to the clone.

“No!” cried Bellona, seeing the Maharani’s look of
horror. “Stop!”

She lunged across the table to snatch the glass from
Philyra’s hand, then shrieked as she knocked it from her grasp and into the
clone’s lap. Surya’s cyberclone looked momentarily stunned, then a small wisp
of smoke rose from between its legs. Suddenly, the clone slumped forward and
collapsed face-first upon the table.

“Reboot me!” it murmured, then fell silent.

A faint smell of burning drifted upon the air. Philyra
looked around at the other diners with an expression both terrified and
apologetic. Endymion grinned sheepishly.

“My dear,” the Maharani said icily. “Surya’s cyberclone
does not care to drink either.”

Ravana rode the monocycle furiously through the streets
of Petit Havre, earning startled stares from the villagers as she went by. The
electric motor behind her seat whined in protest as she urged the vehicle
forward at close to maximum revolutions. Monocycles were single-seat machines
where the rider sat inside the hub of a huge wheel, then hung on for dear life
as AI-controlled gyroscopes handled the tedious business of making sure it did
not fall over on corners. A monocycle’s top speed was barely thirty kilometres
an hour, but when perched upon the low-slung saddle mere centimetres from the
ground, where the only view of what lay directly ahead was via a monitor
screen, such a speed seemed dangerously fast.

She was angry, for her father was clearly keeping
something from her. After she collapsed aboard the
Platypus
he had taken her to the medical unit, where a young
doctor on duty had run a scanner over her skull before walking away to talk to
her father in private. Ravana had seen them pointing to something on the
scanner display, but although they reassured her there was nothing wrong, all
her questions had gone unanswered. The pain in her head had been fleeting but
excruciating and even now the memory of it remained. It was not something she
wanted to experience again in a hurry.

Upon leaving the medical unit, she had looked for Zotz
but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor indeed was her poor cat, but her electric
pet had an inbuilt tracking device and it did not take Ravana long to ascertain
that in the two hours since it had run from the
Platypus
it had somehow managed to make its way from one end
of the hollow moon to the other.