Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

“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!”