Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

The passenger carousel was essentially a drum three metres wide and seven metres in diameter, which when spinning generated a feeling of gravity upon the inside wall in exactly the same way as the spin of the hollow moon. The small size of the carousel meant that the pseudo-gravity was barely a third of that of the Dandridge Cole and no more than the gravity an astronaut would feel on the surface of Luna, Earth’s moon. Like the hollow moon, the floor of the carousel extended all the way around so that the ceiling above where she stood was also the floor of the sleeping area on the far side. When she had the carousel to herself Ravana loved to leap along the endless curving surface and imagine that her pounding feet were somehow powering the Platypus through space.

Fenris regarded her grimly. “Are we there yet?”

“We’re in the Epsilon Eridani system,” Ravana confirmed. Above her, Ostara was trying to negotiate the entrance hatch and not having much luck. “Everyone okay?”

“Am I allowed to throw up?” asked Philyra, looking pale. “I feel terrible.”

“That’s what being zapped through a wormhole does to you,” remarked Endymion.

“Actually, it’s the Higgs resonator that makes people feel sick,” Ravana told him. “It aligns the quantum states of every single particle in the ship so we can slip through the wormhole. Extra-dimensional engineering is mind-boggling stuff.”

Ostara reached the bottom of the ladder and stood beside Ravana, returning Fenris’ rather rude glare with a grimace made somewhat lopsided by the dizzy experience of moving in or out of the moving carousel. Without saying another word, Fenris rose from the couch, grabbed hold of the ladder and hauled himself up and out of sight.

“Yuck,” muttered Ostara, as soon as Fenris had gone. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Never mind him,” said Ravana, looking around the cabin. “Has anyone seen my cat?” Her electric pet had a hard time comprehending zero gravity so she tended to leave it in the carousel whilst the Platypus was in flight.

“I’m sure it was here when we took off,” said Bellona, noticing as she spoke that a door to one of the overhead lockers in the kitchenette area was slightly ajar. No sooner had she put a hand to the door when a furry shape leapt out onto her head and off again across the cabin, a manoeuvre aided considerably by the low pseudo-gravity of the carousel. Philyra, who had been engrossed in her wristpad, suddenly screamed as the cat fell lightly into her lap, its diamond-tipped claws outstretched.

“There’s my little fluff ball!” exclaimed Ravana, scooping the wriggling bundle into her arms. “I hope you haven’t been eating the cutlery again.”

“Fluff ball?” muttered Philyra, rubbing her arms. “Bag of nails, more like.”

“Do you know how long it will be before we arrive at Daode?” asked Miss Clymene. “It would be good if we had time for a rehearsal aboard the ship.”

“We’re still a day away from Daode orbit,” said Ravana.

“A rehearsal?” remarked Bellona, looking around the cramped cabin. “Here?”

“We can use the cargo bay,” Ravana suggested. “There’s a bit more room in there, though there’s no gravity outside the carousel.”

“A free-fall band practice?” mused Endymion. “Cool!”

Fenris’ arrival on the flight deck cut short a somewhat bizarre conversation between Quirinus and Zotz on the best and worst things about zero gravity, a discussion prompted by an innocent question from Zotz about the Platypus ’ toilet facility, which he had been dismayed to learn was a basic vacuum unit in a tiny cubicle in the cargo bay. Zotz took Fenris’ arrival as a cue to go and find Ravana, darting with ease around the older man. Fenris clumsily pulled himself into the cabin in the manner of someone who grimly tolerated rather than enjoyed weightlessness. Quirinus got the impression there was not much that Fenris did enjoy and regarded his visitor with suspicion.

“The flight deck is off-limits to passengers,” Quirinus informed him. “Please leave.”

“I need to put in a holovid call to Ayodhya,” Fenris said smoothly.

“That’s out of the question,” Quirinus replied coldly. The ED drive of the Platypus , like that of all such equipped ships, was also able to send and receive packets of compressed data and thus act as an interstellar transceiver array. “I need to keep the channel open to Taotie space traffic control.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.”

“Insist all you like but it isn’t going to happen,” retorted Quirinus. “Ship! Restrict access to all systems to registered crew only.”

“Security protocol confirmed,” the dispossessed voice replied. “My duty is to serve.”

Quirinus gave the console an odd look. The AI unit had been behaving a little oddly just lately and he had noticed it departing from standard audio scripts on more than one occasion. He suspected this developing eccentricity was linked to the strange tendrils, one of which he could now see poking out of a gap in the console.

Fenris glared at Quirinus. “It would not do for you to make things difficult for me,” he warned him. “I have some very powerful friends in Epsilon Eridani.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Quirinus, smiling sweetly. “Because if it is, you may just find yourself waking up outside the airlock before we even make planet-fall. Remember that.”

Fenris opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and moodily retreated back through the hatch. Quirinus kept an eye on him as he left, somewhat concerned.

The loud bellowing rasp shook the eardrums of everyone present. Endymion sailed backwards across the cargo bay, propelled by the raucous blast of air from his trombone’s bell. A huge smile rose either side of his trombone’s mouthpiece as he ricocheted off the oxygen tanks on the far side.

“Endymion!” scolded Miss Clymene. “Stop that!”

His grin wider than ever, Endymion lowered the instrument from his lips.

“I never knew trombone could be so much fun!” he exclaimed.

“You’re an idiot,” Philyra told him.

Ravana smiled, then returned to the search for her cornet case amongst the piles of luggage strapped down at the end of the cargo bay. Zotz had already untangled what passed for knots sealing his own travelling bag and various items of clothing and strange gadgets drifted around him, including his prized Swiss Army penknife with laser cutter blades. Unable to see what she was looking for, Ravana pulled herself across to the other side of the mound of luggage and uttered a cry of surprise.

“Look at this!” she exclaimed.

Zotz came over and stared at the coffin-sized box half-hidden beneath a sheet. The lid of the black metal container was open and within it lay Surya’s cyberclone, its eyes closed as if asleep. On the side of the casket was a small control panel, upon which a row of green lights flashed slowly in sequence. Ravana followed the power cable that ran from the box and found it had been connected to the ship’s internal power supply.

“The Raja’s clone,” she murmured. “Why is it here?”

Miss Clymene, Endymion, Bellona and Philyra came over and looked at the sleeping cyberclone. The straps to keep it safe within the casket held the clone’s arms crossed upon its chest. It lay perfectly at peace, for the clone had no need to breathe nor no heartbeat to maintain. Its dull artificial skin bore a greyish tint in the dim light of the cargo bay.

“Is it dead?” asked Philyra. “It doesn’t look well.”

“Don’t you mean undead?” Ravana murmured. The scene reminded her of the terrible holovid movies Zotz raved about during his fleeting obsession with vampires.