Steph Bennion - Paw-Prints of the Gods

“Hey,” Ravana said and ruffled Zotz’s hair. “We didn’t kill Taranis, after all.”

“I heard,” he said. “What happened to your cat?”

She thought about her electric pet clasped tight in Stripy’s grasp. “Jones is in safe hands,” she reassured him. “But I don’t think we’ll see it again.”

“Never mind that,” Philyra complained. “They took my wristpad! I had a really cool picture of me with Artorius, the real-life boy king from Gods of Avalon !”

Quirinus regained his seat and began to plot a course away from Falsafah so they could make the jump to Barnard’s Star. Ravana settled back into her own seat, directed the long-range visual scanner to the archaeology site at Arallu and silently watched the dark scuttling shapes pouring from the ruptured domes. The spiders at the edge of the seething black tide were still, asphyxiated by the unforgiving atmosphere. Ravana shuddered at the thought of what may have happened had the portal been on a planet like Earth.

“That mad Chinese woman called while you were at the dig,” Momus said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. “There’s frigging lizard men all across the five systems.”

“Ostara?” Ravana asked Momus, who nodded. “So all twelve survived?”

“Endymion also said the copy he had of Taranis’ book was hacked,” added Zotz.

“Jizo had his notes on her slate,” mused Ravana. She wondered where her own slate had gone. “I can’t help thinking they wanted it for more than just this.”

Zotz looked at the console display. “Where are all those spiders coming from?”

He looked more than a little perturbed. The same question troubled Ravana, for the thought that the portal led to a land of giant spiders was not a nice one.

“They rose from the plug hole to hell,” she murmured, watching the screen. “Athene warned that we had no idea of what’s on the other side. Well, we do now.”

“Athene?” asked Hestia, puzzled.

“Our friend, the mysterious watcher,” Ravana said and gave a hollow laugh. “The mad ghost who rode the greys’ chariot into the void.”

“The Dhusarians wanted a place of pilgrimage,” remarked Fornax, who too had her eyes on the console. “The new runway was just the start. That young man Dagan was full of ideas of how Arallu would become their Mecca, their Jerusalem.”

“Looks more like crappy Gomorrah,” muttered Momus.

“Professor Cadmus, a Dhusarian!” remarked Govannon. “What about his Que Qiao Alien Encounters Board? First contact with genuine aliens and they start a cover up!”

“It isn’t the first,” mused Ravana. “Que Qiao know about greys but deny they exist.”

“Hey, Aberystwyth,” said Urania. “Do we include giant spiders in our site reports?”

“You heard the agents. We keep quiet, see. No essay writing when we get back.”

Xuthus moved forward to where Zotz had pulled himself into the port-side chair, both transfixed by the images on the holovid screen. Ravana smiled, recalling how Xuthus had intervened when Ininna threatened to arrest her. With a sudden rush of emotion she reached out, hugged Xuthus tight and gave him a kiss.

“Thanks for sticking up for me,” she said. “You’re not so bad, after all.”

Xuthus gave a strangled yelp and struggled free of her grasp. Ravana caught Urania’s giggle and frowned. Hestia gave her a perturbed look.

“Get off me, scar face!” cried Xuthus. “What did you do that for?”

Ravana turned away, insulted and embarrassed. The console signalled an incoming message and she spun away to activate the transceiver holovid, eager to take advantage of the distraction. To her surprise, the call sign was that of the Dandridge Cole . The signal was a little erratic, but she instantly recognised the beaming face of Professor Wak. He was using a holovid booth near a window in Dockside and a warm yellow glow poured through the frosty glass. Sunlight once again shone brightly within the hollow moon.

“Hello Professor,” she said gaily. “I see you’ve finally fixed the sun.”

“Ravana! You’re safe!” cried Wak. “Never doubted it for a moment, of course.”

“All present and correct,” confirmed Quirinus. “We’re on our way home.”

“No more adventures,” added Ravana. She saw her father’s sideways look and grinned. “We have a lot of work to do when we get back,” she said solemnly. “Don’t we, professor? Crops to plant, animals to defrost, that sort of thing.”

Quirinus frowned. “You went on a simple field trip and ended up rubbing shoulders with a secret agent, aliens and cyberclone monks,” he pointed out. “Farmers spray crops for greenfly, not blast giant spiders with a cannon. Are you sure you won’t be bored?”

“After the last few weeks, boredom suits me fine,” Ravana replied defiantly.

Philyra laughed. “Sure it does.”

Ravana’s gaze fell to the plasma cannon, wedged beneath a rogue tendril at the rear of the cabin. She had a horrible feeling her father and Philyra were right.

Tau Ceti system

Barnard’s Star system

Steph Bennionis a writer, musician and civil servant in Westminster, born and bred in the Black Country but now living in South London, England. Her science-fiction stories are written as a reaction to the dearth of alternative heroes amidst bookshelves swamped by tales of the supernatural. For every aspiring vampire or wizard, the world needs an astrophysicist, an engineer, or at the very least someone who can make the trains run on time. Paw-Prints of the Gods is her second self-published novel.