Hollow Moon (36 page)

“Endymion!” greeted Ostara. “Good to see you again! Does
your teacher know you are here?” she asked cautiously. The second part of
Zotz’s message had urged secrecy, for much as she liked Miss Clymene, Ostara
did not trust her not to say something to Governor Atman or his colleagues that
could make things difficult for their rebel friends.

“She thinks we’ve been in the games room all evening,”
Endymion reassured her, which was exactly where they had been ten minutes ago.
“Where are you? Is Ravana there?”

“We’re on Yuanshi,” Ostara told him, smiling as she saw
their eyes widen in surprise. “Ravana is fine and having her implant
calibrated, or something like that. We’ve made some new friends, found the
kidnapped Raja and had all sorts of adventures.”

“Hello there,” greeted Surya, feeling he should say
something.

“That’s the Raja?” Philyra remarked. “He looks just like
his cyberclone.”

“That’s why they’re called clones,” retorted Endymion.
“Stupid.”

“When will you be back?” asked Bellona. “The music
competition happens for real tomorrow evening. This morning’s rehearsal sounded
awful without Ravana and Zotz.”

“Music competition?” asked Surya, pricking up his ears.
“Some mad priest has banned song and dance in Lanka and I’m going mad here
having nothing to listen to.”

“Ravana and I are supposed to be there with the rest of
the band,” Zotz explained, gesturing to the screen. “Loads of schools are
playing at the peace conference.”

“The entire band in a holovid booth?” Surya quipped, not
realising it was the truth.

“Don’t you start,” Bellona warned. The memory of the
dreadful dress rehearsal was still fresh in her mind. “If Zotz and Ravana were
here we’d win the competition, easy!”

“Do you want a violinist?” asked Surya, genuinely
interested.

“We’re getting off the point!” snapped Ostara. “We’ll be
with you again soon, but I need to warn you about Fenris in case he gets back
to Daode before us.”

She briefly told her listeners about Fenris’ betrayal and
how Quirinus and the
Platypus
ended up
in the hands of Que Qiao. Surya was genuinely taken aback and stood in stunned
silence while he digested this revelation regarding the Maharani’s chief of
staff. When it came to Ostara telling them about how she, Zotz and Ravana had
made it to Lanka, she kept it brief and deliberately refrained from mentioning
the episode at the secret plantation, recalling how easy it had been for
herself, Endymion and Zotz to eavesdrop on Fenris’ holovid with Taranis.
Coincidentally, Endymion was also thinking back to their earlier espionage.

“You didn’t need to warn us,” Endymion told her. “We know
Fenris is up to no good. Remember how Taranis told him that special equipment
was being brought to Hemakuta? We found some sort of brainwashing device in the
conference hall control room.”

“Brainwashing!” Surya screwed up his face in disgust.

“There’s all sorts of false stories going around about
your kidnap,” Philyra told him. “We could go to the Avalon news team with our
very own scoop!” she suggested, seemingly inspired by a vision of herself
fronting a holovid news report.

“That’s a stupid idea,” retorted Bellona. “Ostara, what can
we do?”

Ostara opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated, not
knowing what to say.

“Sabotage the device,” Zotz piped up. “If you can get to
it again. Do it in such a way that it doesn’t look obviously broken.”

Endymion grinned. “No problem! What will you do?”

“We are about to leave on a rescue mission,” Ostara said
grimly. “If all goes well, we’ll see you again in Hemakuta tomorrow!”

CONVERSATION WAS MUTED as the
Sun Wukong
touched down at Ayodhya spaceport. All aboard were
preoccupied by his or her own thoughts, some more than others. Ravana sat
quietly with her cat on her lap, tentatively exploring the multitude of images
she could now call up at will inside her mind. The calibration programme Ganesa
showed her on the holovid unit seemed little more than a random selection of
pictures and symbols, but after a few minutes of watching Ravana felt new areas
of her mind opening up in a way she found both daunting and empowering.

On a more prosaic level, she had also made time for a
quick bath in one of the palace’s sumptuous suites while Ganesa found her a
change of clothes. The maroon and gold salwar kameez she now wore made a nice
change from her usual flight suit. It was not as feminine as the traditional
saree favoured by Yaksha or the Maharani, but trousers were infinitely more
practical for the girl of action she had become.

Ostara sat next to Ravana, alternating her gaze between
the porthole at her shoulder and the slate in her hand. The latter had been
entrusted to her by Yaksha and contained all the security information the
royalists held on Sumitra Palace. Surya and Zotz sat together at the back of
the passenger cabin, murmuring quietly to one another and giggling now and
again at a private joke. Surya pointedly ignored Fenris, though shot the
occasional wary glance at his once trusted companion. Fenris had gained a
nasty-looking bruise above his left eye and kept his own stare upon Hanuman and
Ganesa, visible through the open flight-deck doorway ahead.

The spacecraft continued to roll for several more
minutes. Finally, with a faint squeal of brakes, the
Sun Wukong
shuddered to a halt.

“Looks like someone has come to meet us,” remarked
Ostara, seeing a large hoverbus driving towards them. On the side of the
vehicle were the words: ‘DHUSARIAN CHURCH OF YUANSHI – JOIN WITH US TODAY
AND PRAY THE GREY WAY!’

“That’ll be Namtar and Inari,” said Hanuman, stepping
through from the flight deck. He pushed open the airlock door, took one look at
the hoverbus and shook his head in exasperation. “A church minibus. They’re
supposed to be keeping a low profile!”

By the time they had all disembarked, Namtar and Inari
were stood waiting at the door of the bus. Ravana instantly recognised the two
men as the Raja’s kidnappers and was surprised at the amicable way in which
Surya greeted them.

“My dear Raja,” greeted Namtar, bowing gently. “It is
indeed a pleasure to once again be in your service. You have picked a fine day
to strike another blow for freedom.”

“It’s raining in Lanka,” Ganesa told him, gazing into the
clear blue sky over Ayodhya. A favourite whinge of the rebels was whether
geography alone made Lanka such a dull, wet place, for many would not put it
past Que Qiao terraforming teams to purposely make it so.

“You two started all this,” Ravana said guardedly,
regarding Namtar and Inari with suspicion. “I saw you take the Raja from the
palace.”

“These are the kidnappers?” asked Ostara. She sounded
disappointed.

“You’re from that crazy asteroid?” remarked Inari.
“You’re a long way from home.”

“Can you save the small talk until later?” interrupted
Hanuman. “That includes getting chatty on your wristpads. If we need to pass on
messages then Ganesa, Ravana and the Raja will use a secure channel via their
implant headcoms. Is that clear?”

He looked around the group and saw seven heads nodding.
Fenris did not look so sure.

“There is no way you will get away with this,” he
retorted sullenly. “Taking a prisoner from beneath the noses of Que Qiao! Your
plan is preposterous!”

“We’ll see about that,” replied Hanuman. “Everyone, get
on the bus.”

In no time at all they were hurtling along the elevated
expressway towards the city centre, high above the vast rice paddies that
surrounded Ayodhya as far as the eye could see. Ganesa spent the time teaching
Ravana and Surya how to use their headcom, the inbuilt implant communicator,
which fascinated Ravana no end until she accidentally switched off the privacy
setting and was instantly bombarded by calling cards, advertising messages and
recorded friendship invitations, all from total strangers on the local net.

Unlike the compact city of Lanka, Ayodhya began life as a
rambling series of linked domes and terraforming had allowed the low-density
conurbation to spread further still. As the hoverbus neared the graceful towers
and sprawling industrial facilities on the outskirts of the city, they passed a
cavalcade of jet cycles escorting a large official-looking ground car, all
headed in the opposite direction.

“Governor Jaggarneth,” Hanuman remarked. “On his way to
the conference.”

The church hoverbus continued across a slender suspension
bridge towards the island park in the heart of Ayodhya, at the centre of which
lay the majestic Palace of Sumitra. The expansive gardens and surrounding lake
were open to the public and in no time at all the bus was pulling to a halt in
a small, tree-lined car park within sight of the palace perimeter fence.

The low rounded towers of Sumitra lay beyond a stretch of
open ground. Ravana was surprised at how tranquil the scene looked, for she had
been expecting to find a fortified military base bristling with Que Qiao armed
guards. One by one, they trooped off the hoverbus and walked towards the fence
to get a better look.

“That used to be my home,” murmured Surya, visibly moved.

“The
Platypus
!”
exclaimed Ravana. Holding up her cat, she pointed to the indistinct purple and
white shape to the right of the palace. “Look, Jones! There’s our spaceship!”

Zotz rummaged through the bag he carried and withdrew a
pair of gyroscopic binoculars. Putting them to his eyes, he nodded in
agreement, then offered them to Ravana. Inari was already attacking the fence
with a laser cutter and within minutes had sliced a large ragged hole in the
wire mesh. Ravana peered through the binoculars and examined the distant
spacecraft, which looked rather forlorn standing alone at the end of landing
strip.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone on guard,” she noted.

“Governor Jaggarneth will have taken his security team
with him to Daode,” Namtar pointed out. “A fortuitous situation which will no
doubt aid our forthcoming enterprise.”

“He means there won’t be many agents around,” Inari
translated, limping past them with a pained expression. He had managed to shear
off the end of his boot with the laser cutter.

Inari led Surya to the back of the bus and together they
started unloading a series of long canvas bags from the luggage compartment.
Hanuman gestured to Ravana, Zotz, Ostara, Ganesa and Fenris to go through the
hole in the fence, then turned to Namtar.

“Give us ten minutes,” he said. “Then do your thing.”

“You can count on us,” Namtar declared. “Or me, at
least.”

Hanuman grinned and quickly slipped through the hole to
join the others. Moments later he was leading a breathless sprint across the
open ground beyond the fence, towards a cluster of low-roofed storage huts on
the edge of the distant landing strip. Before long they were all gathered
against the back wall of one such hut, not far from the parked spacecraft.

“Everyone okay?” he gasped. It had been a long time since
he had last run like that.

“We’re fine,” replied Ganesa, smirking. “But our poor
gallant captain is not used to strenuous exercise and seems to be having a
heart attack.”

Hanuman gave her a withering look. Beckoning to Ravana,
he crept to the end of the wall and peered around the corner. The cylindrical
bulk of the
Platypus
loomed before them;
the tips of its starboard wings, wavering gently in the breeze, were barely ten
metres away.

“There’s no one in sight,” murmured Hanuman. “That’s a
bit of luck.”

“The main airlock is on the port side,” Ravana told him,
peering over his shoulder.

Hanuman waved to the others to follow. When Fenris
hesitated, the pilot withdrew his plasma pistol, moved back to provide the
necessary encouragement and motioned to Ravana to lead the group out across the
airstrip. After a hurried dash beneath the purple belly of the ship, they
arrived breathless at the cargo bay ramp. Ravana punched in the access code as
quickly as she was able with a wriggling cat in her arms, then after what
seemed an age the airlock opened and they all tumbled inside.

“My word,” murmured Ravana.

She lowered her pet to the floor. The walls and roof of
the cargo bay were covered in thick tendrils, all sprouting from the main cable
duct in the ceiling. Her cat nibbled at a nearby frond and gave a violent
sneeze.

“What’s with the crazy plant life?” asked Ganesa,
somewhat bemused.

“Woomerberg Syndrome,” Zotz told her, earning a blank
look in return.

“Zotz, come with me,” said Ravana. Her foot was already
on the ladder leading to the crawl tunnel. “I need to give you access to the
flight systems.”

Leaving the others in the cargo bay, Ravana and Zotz
hurriedly made their way to the flight deck. The strange tendrils had also
spread around the cabin and part of the console, which she noticed was still
minus the hatch covering the AI unit.

Ravana pressed a switch on the console. “Ship? Confirm
status.”

“All systems on standby,” came the familiar female tones
of the AI unit. “It is good to see you back aboard, Ravana. How may I serve you
today?”

Ravana regarded the console curiously. The AI unit had
generally always referred to her as ‘Miss O’Brien’ until now.

“This is Zotz Wak,” she said, introducing him to the
ship. There were cameras in the cabin, but she could not remember where and
gestured to Zotz to do a slow pirouette. “Please add him as a registered member
of the crew and grant him co-pilot access to all systems.”