Steph Bennion - Paw-Prints of the Gods

Momus glanced at Quirinus’ eye patch. “He’s halfway there already.”

As it happened, it was a text-book landing. The Platypus came in at an angle that produced a cascade of sparks from the rear casings of the hanging boosters, yet the spacecraft barely bounced as it touched down straight and true, with just a gentle screech of tyres to herald their arrival. As the ship slowly coasted to a halt at the end of the runway, Quirinus’ grin broadened when he saw that even Momus was impressed.

“That’s what you call piloting,” Quirinus declared.

“Glad to be of service,” snapped the AI. Its metallic tones sounded miffed.

“Of course,” he added hastily. “Ship, thank you for your assistance.”

In no time at all they were trundling back along the airstrip towards the dome. As the landing lights of the Platypus came to halt upon the transit lounge, the depot’s automatic systems began to extend the walkway tunnel, thought twice and then pulled it back again when it became clear there was a huge booster blocking the cargo bay door. Quirinus gave a rueful glance towards the lounge, knowing it was too much to expect to see Ravana waving at a window, then returned his attention to shutting down the flight systems. Zotz watched the aborted actions of the docking tunnel and frowned. Momus unbuckled his seat harness, stretched wearily and looked out of the window at the nearby dome.

“Did anyone remember to pack any frigging spacesuits?” he asked.

Govannon ‘Aberystwyth’ Jones angrily stomped onwards upon yet another pointless circuit of the excavation’s dome, his scowl deepening with every cloud of dust kicked up by his boots. He was aware of the stares that followed; not only the scared expressions of Hestia, Xuthus and Urania, watching from the doorway of their cabin, but also the sneers of Agent Ininna and Agent Yima, who lounged nonchalantly near the tunnel to dome two. He levelled his own glare at the bobbing headscarf of Ininna, who had turned to speak to her colleague, then gave a mournful glance at the main airlock as he passed. The Que Qiao agents, having arrived two days ago, had not bothered to secure the transport hangar, knowing full well that until the Sir Bedivere returned there was nowhere for the archaeologists to go. Yet the other thing the agents had not done was investigate. They had simply announced their presence, stopped all work, then settled into the domes and made themselves at home.

Agent Ininna’s sneer became a grimace upon seeing the archaeologist’s circular stomp head towards her and Yima once more. Govannon had quickly learned that while he could pace non-stop around the dome for hours if the mood took him, the irritable Ininna could watch and stay silent for three circuits at most.

“Govannon!” she snapped, once he was within earshot. “By the mighty Allah, will you please keep still! You’re giving me a headache.”

The archaeologist drew nearer, slowed to a halt and glared defiantly at the agents.

“You’re the headache around here,” he retorted. “Two days we’ve been cooped up with no answers, see? No one looking into Cadmus’ death, no word from poor Ravana and none of us allowed out of your sight! How long are you planning to keep us here like this?”

“You are in no position to ask questions,” Ininna said flatly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yima scowled. “Until the investigation is complete you would be wise to cooperate.”

“Investigation, is it?” remarked Govannon. “You haven’t done a thing since you arrived other than frighten the students with this mean and moody charade. If you had, you would know none of us were here when Cadmus stupidly decided to crawl into that hole alone, see.” He saw Ininna’s scowl momentarily falter and wondered how far he could push her. “Why aren’t you doing anything? Are you waiting for some proper police officers from Aram to come and do the job properly?”

“Watch your mouth!” snarled Ininna.

Govannon smiled, sensing he had touched a nerve. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hestia emerge from the cabin and walk cautiously towards him with a mug in her hand. The girl’s fibre-optic tresses were a vibrant shade of crimson, which when Ininna was around was like waving a red rag to a bull.

“It’s funny how you turned up when you did. I’d only just unblocked the passage and found poor Cadmus,” he continued, challenging Ininna. The memory of what he had seen in the chamber remained fresh in his mind: the strange multi-limbed cocoon, dead giant spider and inexplicable cryogenic capsule, then finding the poor professor’s lifeless body under the rock fall. “If I were a suspicious man, I’d wonder if your superiors already knew what Cadmus was up to and were playing you like puppets on a string, see.”

“Do you want to be locked in your quarters?” asked Ininna fiercely. “Because I am more than happy to do so if it means not having to listen to you anymore.”

Seeing Hestia approach, the agent scowled and fell silent. The student, keeping her gaze averted from the agents, went straight to Govannon and handed him the mug.

“We thought you might like some tea,” Hestia murmured.

Govannon managed a smile and took the offered drink. “Thank you.”

“Is it not an English tradition to offer tea to visitors?” asked Yima, eyeing the mug.

“I’m Welsh!” snapped Govannon. “And visitors does not include unwelcome guests.”

“Would you like some?” Hestia asked Yima cautiously. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any biscuits. Xuthus finished the last packet as a midnight snack, the greedy pig.”

“Tea?” asked Yima. “I wouldn’t say no.”

“Thirsty work, is it?” asked Govannon. “Standing around, doing nothing?”

“Kedesh gave us some cake,” Yima reminded Ininna, missing Govannon’s sarcasm. “That would go down well with a hot brew. Shall I go and get it?”

“We’re not here for tea and cake!” said Ininna, irritably.

“There’s not much else to do,” Yima retorted. “Why aren’t we looking into the professor’s death? We should at least see for ourselves what’s inside that alien temple.”

“It is not a temple!” cried Govannon and sighed. “Never mind.”

“Ravana is also still missing,” Hestia reminded them.

“Official investigators are on their way,” Ininna replied to Yima, somewhat sulkily.

“We have forensic equipment here, as I’m sure you do too,” said Hestia. “Doctor Jones is a proper archaeologist and knows how to use stuff like that. We all want to know what happened to Professor Cadmus and Ravana. We could help you find out.”

Govannon gave Hestia a sly smile. Offering to help the agents was not an approach that had crossed his mind. He could see Hestia had Ininna and Yima confused, which as far as he was concerned was a result in itself.

“If I was in your position,” Hestia continued, scratching her cheek in an absent-minded fashion, “I’d want to find out as much as I could beforehand so I did not look stupid when your official investigators arrive. Are you sure someone is coming?”

“Eventually,” mumbled Yima.

“Don’t try any tricky mind games with us,” said Ininna, glaring at Hestia. “Nobody here is doing anything unless I say so.”

“We are well aware of that,” said Govannon. “We have a man dead and a young girl missing, see? All you have done is shut down a legitimate excavation and treat everyone like suspects. You would have to order us to help you before we even considered it.”

“Security on Falsafah is a Que Qiao matter and we decide what is legitimate or not!” Ininna retorted. “In case you had forgotten, this expedition is funded by Que Qiao.”