Steph Bennion - Paw-Prints of the Gods

Hestia and Urania shrieked in alarm. Startled, Xuthus gave another yell and ran to the arch. He glanced back just in time to see the ancient cocoon collapse amidst a tumble of splintering legs.

“What’s happening?” screamed Hestia. “What have you done?!”

“I didn’t touch anything!” Xuthus protested, knowing it was a lie. “Run!”

Hestia and Urania did not need to be told twice. Xuthus led the way, sprinting like a maniac into the labyrinth. The rumbling and tremors shook clouds of dust from the ceiling and stirred the biochemical fluids of the lamps, making them flicker. They raced past one stuttering green glow to the next, as fast as their pounding hearts would allow. Xuthus almost cried with relief when he finally spied the light of the shattered archway ahead and burst through the hole into the trench like a plasma bolt from a gun. Urania was right behind, a wheezing Hestia a distant third.

Xuthus put a hand to the ladder, but his weary legs had other ideas and he collapsed into an untidy heap on the floor. It was not until he saw the gathered faces peering into the trench from above that he realised the dome lights were back on. Urania staggered to a halt next to him and warily regarded the scene that greeted them.

Doctor Jones, Agent Ininna and Agent Yima stood with hands on their heads, looking subdued before two clunky military androids armed with rifles. With them was a thin Indian woman, wearing a grey cloak and headscarf, whom Xuthus had not seen before and who seemed most displeased to meet him now. Behind her stood two robed figures, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, who did not move nor make a sound but nonetheless exuded an aura of quiet rage.

“What’s going on?” Xuthus asked, his voice wavering.

He cautiously clambered to his feet. Behind him, Hestia emerged from the archway, wheezing heavily. The tremors had ceased but a nearby equipment cabinet had toppled and one of the trench walls had collapsed. Xuthus looked around the dome and saw that the airtight door to the east, previously sealed on the sensible grounds there was nothing but inhospitable desert on the other side, was now wide open to reveal the interior of a tubular walkway, linked to the hatch of a transport parked outside. Two figures in dark flight suits were erecting what looked like a tent near the dome wall and making a mess of a carefully-cleaned trench. Confused, Xuthus shifted his gaze back to Govannon.

“This is Lilith and err… friends,” said the archaeologist. “Aren’t we popular?”

The Indian woman pushed him aside and stared frostily at Xuthus, Hestia and Urania.

“This holy ground is now in the hands of the brothers of the Dhusarian Church,” Lilith declared. “You will not meddle in our affairs a moment longer!”

Quirinus was aboard the berthed Platypus when he felt the first tremors. Engrossed in a holovid message Ostara had sent from Newbrum, his first reaction was to look through the flight-deck windows at the nearby Atterberg Epiphany , convinced the disturbance was the ship firing its engines ready to depart. Yet as the rumbling continued he realised it came from deep within the planet, then watched in alarm as the nearby wind-pump tower slowly keeled over and collapsed. When the tremors eventually subsided, he saw a distant glint of sunlight upon running water and guessed the leak from the well had become terminal.

“Ship, what was that?” he asked, pausing the holovid replay. “An earthquake?”

“Detectors registered seismic activity in the area,” the AI replied. “The initial shock wave originated approximately two hundred kilometres north of our present location. The cause of the disturbance is unknown.”

With a sigh, Quirinus returned his attention to Ostara’s report. It was brief but informative; she had attached the recording made at the Broad Street church, giving him his first glimpse of Taranis’ alien cyberclones, but the words of the sermon were lost beneath the muted gasps and whispers of herself and Endymion. Yet it was Ostara’s tale of how she and Endymion had caught Bellona searching through Ravana’s things for the Isa-Sastra that concerned him, for he suspected it had something to do with Jizo being on Falsafah. Back on Yuanshi, the nurse had been far too close to Taranis for Quirinus’ liking.

He quickly recorded a couple of brief messages, one for Ostara and another to Wak on the Dandridge Cole , then used the ship’s transceiver to send them on their way. Once that was done, he again tried to raise the archaeologists on the short-range system, but as before there was no reply. The radio silence from the dig was worrying.

“Ship, have you managed to link with the depot’s system?” he asked. He had failed to crack the local database, despite Zotz’s help. “Remote access to the ship’s transceiver would be useful, too. It would save me having to put on a spacesuit to make a call.”

“Arallu Depot’s data network is coded to secure police channels. I have been granted access to ground crew maintenance and refuelling sub-systems only,” the computer replied. “I can maintain a ship-to-shore link via your wristpad.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” grumbled Quirinus, who hated doing anything complicated on his wristpad’s tiny screen. “Do the same for all registered crew and send regular updates.”

“Confirmed,” said the AI.

Quirinus put on his helmet, slipped through the floor hatch into the pod bay and dropped clumsily onto the runway. One brisk walk later, he was back in the depot’s hangar and shedding his survival suit. He was ready for another battle of wills with Jizo.

Quirinus found Momus waiting for him at Morrigan’s Bar, standing next to where Jizo was perched on the end stool, her wrists and ankles secured with tape. Zotz, Philyra and a sulky-looking Fornax were sat on top of an upturned crate in front of the nearby habitation cabin, peering at the screen of Zotz’s wristpad. Ravana’s runaway cat was broadcasting a live holovid feed, but Quirinus could tell from the bemused expressions of those watching the footage that they still had no idea where the electric pet actually was.

“She had this on her,” Momus said, as Quirinus approached. He showed him a flask. “Nothing else of interest. I reckon she’s a spy.”

Quirinus took the stool next to Jizo. “Is she ready to talk?”

“Talk?” Jizo gave him a smug, self-satisfied smile. “What about?”

“Don’t play games with me! What have you done with Ravana?” asked Quirinus. He scowled as Momus reached to switch on the robot bar steward. “Leave that thing alone!”

“I want a frigging beer,” said Momus. “Nothing else to do, is there?”

The robot shuddered and its eyes began to glow. “Would you like a drink, sir?”

“Lager,” declared Momus. “Ice cold.”

“Can I have one?” asked Jizo.

“No, you can’t!” snapped Quirinus. “Answer my question!”

“Ravana?” the nurse replied, acting surprised. “The church has a mission on Falsafah. My duty is to lead the disciples who come from afar to stop the desecration of holy lands.”

“Who is this woman?” asked Momus. He picked up the tumbler the robot placed before him, took a long sip and grinned. Quirinus saw Jizo staring and licking her lips. “Wow, that’s frigging good stuff. Brewed on the premises, eh?”

“Yes sir,” said the robot. “I am pleased it meets with your approval.”

“Jizo was a nurse at Lanka hospital, back when Ravana and I lived on Yuanshi,” Quirinus said irritably, in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “She was on duty the night they brought in the wounded from the Aranya Pass massacre. Jizo came to treat Ravana and realised she was the child Taranis had years ago made plans for in secret, against our will. Jizo told Taranis and we were forced into hiding. She sold us out.”