Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

The rain lashed down in torrents and splattered heavily against the windscreen of the Sun Wukong as it slew to a halt at the end of the muddy airstrip that was Lanka spaceport. To those aboard, the prospect of getting drenched was less of a concern than the hail of bullets erupting from the squat gunship high above, with the missiles exploding noisily above the city barely half a kilometre away coming a close third. Que Qiao militia were out in force and concentrating their fire on the Crystal Palace of Kubera. The daylight strike on Lanka had taken Hanuman, Ganesa and their new-found friends by surprise, not least because the latest message from Commander Kartikeya had reassured them he was not expecting anything to happen this close to the peace conference.

“There’s an aircar waiting but we need to make a run for it!” Hanuman yelled.

The whine of the engine compressors wound down as he rapidly ran his fingers over the console, shutting off the flight systems with well-practised ease. Behind him in the passenger compartment, Ganesa stood by the airlock door with her hand ready on the release control. Ostara, Zotz, Ravana and her cat sat rigid, shaken by their descent into a battle zone. The oft-mentioned civil war on Yuanshi was suddenly too close for comfort.

“Welcome to Lanka,” remarked Ganesa, giving the door a shove. Outside, a plasma cannon bolt from the gunship struck the edge of the runway, showering the Sun Wukong with clods of mud. “Thank you for choosing to fly with Hanuman airlines.”

“Very droll,” muttered Ostara, unbuckling her seatbelt.

A frantic dash across the runway took them to the waiting stubby-winged aircar and soon they were on their way. Ravana’s first sight of the city that had once been her home was one of a community ravaged by war, for the outskirts had long ago become a bleak wasteland of bomb craters and crumbling buildings, one of which she recognised as the shattered husk of the former Dhusarian Central Church. It was not until they crossed the old dome wall that the Lanka of her childhood abruptly came to life and she eagerly looked on as the aircar sped low over the bustling conurbation and on towards the circular park at the heart of the city. Ahead, the Crystal Palace was coming into view, its four glass towers managing to look both awe-inspiring and ostentatious as they glittered in the blaze of exploding missiles.

“What is that place?” murmured Zotz, staring spellbound at the palace.

“Kubera,” Ravana told him, equally mesmerised. “It was known as the Maharaja’s summer palace, though he and his family lived mainly in Ayodhya.”

“Now it’s Kartikeya’s headquarters,” said Hanuman. “He likes to command in style.”

Their pilot brought the aircar down into the inner courtyard and parked neatly next to another on the landing pad. With the noise of the aircar’s turbines still ringing in their ears, the travellers from the Sun Wukong scurried through the rain into the palace.

Hanuman led them to an ornate antechamber, where they were met by an elderly Indian woman who greeted them with a smile. Ganesa hurried forward and gave the woman a warm hug.

“Yaksha!” she cried. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” the woman acknowledged. She gestured to where Ravana, Ostara and Zotz stood, dripping wet from the rain. “Kartikeya asked to speak with you before you do anything else. Are these the ones you told me of?”

Ganesa nodded and left it to Hanuman to perform the introductions. Yaksha approached Ravana and like Ganesa before her, gently raised a hand to the scar upon the girl’s face. Ravana felt a pang of recognition upon seeing the old woman but could not place the memory. It did not help that her implant was generating all sorts of distracting images inside her head, for the palace network was a random mess of circuits where almost anything could be controlled by the flick of a mental switch. Her cat wriggled in her arms and meowed.

“So you are Ravana,” said Yaksha. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember. Your mother was a very dear friend of mine, such a long time ago.”

“You knew my mother?” Ravana exclaimed. She lowered her cat to the floor.

“More coincidences,” muttered Ostara. Ganesa smiled.

“Ravana’s family and my own have long been connected with Kubera,” Yaksha told Ostara. “It was her mother’s grandfather, one of the founding fathers of Lanka, who originally built the Crystal Palace back in the days of the first Maharaja. Kartikeya himself cares little for the past,” she added with a touch of bitterness. “He sees only his glorious future, leaving the rest of us to deal with the present.”

“Do you think Kartikeya can help me rescue my father?” asked Ravana.

“He should,” retorted Yaksha. “He is to blame as much as anyone.”

“Where is he?” asked Hanuman.

“In his operations room. The basement?” she suggested, when Hanuman looked puzzled. “I should warn you that Fenris is down there with him.”

“Fenris!” exclaimed Ostara.

Ravana frowned, equally dismayed. “Here?”

“He’s only just arrived,” Yaksha told them. “Fenris has been entrusted by Kartikeya to escort the Raja to the peace conference tomorrow. Were you not aware?”

“The Raja is here also?” asked Zotz.

“We knew that much,” Ostara pointed out. “I think.”

“I’ve lost track of who knows what,” sighed Hanuman. “Take us to your leader.”

Yaksha led them along a hallway, down a flight of stairs and into a brightly-lit room with an arched roof, leaving Ravana’s cat to follow at its own pace. Of the two men who stood by the large table in the centre of the room, Ravana instantly recognised the goatee-bearded, dour figure of Fenris, while the younger Indian man in military dress next to him she assumed was Commander Kartikeya. At first she thought the boy standing beyond was the Raja’s cyberclone, then with a start realised it was none other than Surya himself. Fenris saw them first and his face dropped into a scowl that did little to conceal his anger.

“Damnation!” he spat irritably. “What are you three doing here?”

“That’s him!” Zotz exclaimed excitedly, pointing at Surya. “The kidnapped Raja!”

Kartikeya looked up and frowned as his gaze fell upon Ravana and Zotz.

“More children,” he said disapprovingly. “This is a war room, not a crèche.”

“I am not a child!” retorted Ravana.

Surya caught her glare and smiled. The lack of music took away the lustre of life at the palace but the Que Qiao attack and unexpected visitors promised a bit of excitement.

“Good to see you made it in one piece,” Kartikeya said to Hanuman and Ganesa. “We thought Jaggarneth was on to our plot and is trying to stop us leaving for Daode, but my spies tell me this attack is in response to a raid on a Que Qiao research laboratory.” He gave them a knowing look. “Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Hanuman gave him a sheepish look. “That was Ravana’s idea,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “She helped us with a spot of espionage and while we were there she suggested we cause some trouble. I didn’t expect Que Qiao to retaliate like this.”

“A bit of improvised rebellion, eh? I can’t say I disapprove. So you’re Ravana?” remarked Kartikeya, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. “The one who saw Namtar and Inari with the young Raja?”

“You’re from the hollow moon?” Surya asked, regarding Ravana warily.

“That’s her,” Fenris confirmed moodily. “Trouble-makers, the lot of them.”

“The Raja was kidnapped!” snapped Ostara, with a glance to Surya. “Don’t you dare use that patronising, pig-headed tone with Ravana or anyone else! I am here as chief of security on the Dandridge Cole and if anyone is in trouble it is you!”