Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

She briefly told her listeners about Fenris’ betrayal and how Quirinus and the Platypus ended up in the hands of Que Qiao. Surya was genuinely taken aback and stood in stunned silence while he digested this revelation regarding the Maharani’s chief of staff. When it came to Ostara telling them about how she, Zotz and Ravana had made it to Lanka, she kept it brief and deliberately refrained from mentioning the episode at the secret plantation, recalling how easy it had been for herself, Endymion and Zotz to eavesdrop on Fenris’ holovid with Taranis. Coincidentally, Endymion was also thinking back to their earlier espionage.

“You didn’t need to warn us,” Endymion told her. “We know Fenris is up to no good. Remember how Taranis told him that special equipment was being brought to Hemakuta? We found some sort of brainwashing device in the conference hall control room.”

“Brainwashing!” Surya screwed up his face in disgust.

“There’s all sorts of false stories going around about your kidnap,” Philyra told him. “We could go to the Avalon news team with our very own scoop!” she suggested, seemingly inspired by a vision of herself fronting a holovid news report.

“That’s a stupid idea,” retorted Bellona. “Ostara, what can we do?”

Ostara opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated, not knowing what to say.

“Sabotage the device,” Zotz piped up. “If you can get to it again. Do it in such a way that it doesn’t look obviously broken.”

Endymion grinned. “No problem! What will you do?”

“We are about to leave on a rescue mission,” Ostara said grimly. “If all goes well, we’ll see you again in Hemakuta tomorrow!”

CONVERSATION WAS MUTED as the Sun Wukong touched down at Ayodhya spaceport. All aboard were preoccupied by his or her own thoughts, some more than others. Ravana sat quietly with her cat on her lap, tentatively exploring the multitude of images she could now call up at will inside her mind. The calibration programme Ganesa showed her on the holovid unit seemed little more than a random selection of pictures and symbols, but after a few minutes of watching Ravana felt new areas of her mind opening up in a way she found both daunting and empowering.

On a more prosaic level, she had also made time for a quick bath in one of the palace’s sumptuous suites while Ganesa found her a change of clothes. The maroon and gold salwar kameez she now wore made a nice change from her usual flight suit. It was not as feminine as the traditional saree favoured by Yaksha or the Maharani, but trousers were infinitely more practical for the girl of action she had become.

Ostara sat next to Ravana, alternating her gaze between the porthole at her shoulder and the slate in her hand. The latter had been entrusted to her by Yaksha and contained all the security information the royalists held on Sumitra Palace. Surya and Zotz sat together at the back of the passenger cabin, murmuring quietly to one another and giggling now and again at a private joke. Surya pointedly ignored Fenris, though shot the occasional wary glance at his once trusted companion. Fenris had gained a nasty-looking bruise above his left eye and kept his own stare upon Hanuman and Ganesa, visible through the open flight-deck doorway ahead.

The spacecraft continued to roll for several more minutes. Finally, with a faint squeal of brakes, the Sun Wukong shuddered to a halt.

“Looks like someone has come to meet us,” remarked Ostara, seeing a large hoverbus driving towards them. On the side of the vehicle were the words: ‘DHUSARIAN CHURCH OF YUANSHI – JOIN WITH US TODAY AND PRAY THE GREY WAY!’

“That’ll be Namtar and Inari,” said Hanuman, stepping through from the flight deck. He pushed open the airlock door, took one look at the hoverbus and shook his head in exasperation. “A church minibus. They’re supposed to be keeping a low profile!”

By the time they had all disembarked, Namtar and Inari were stood waiting at the door of the bus. Ravana instantly recognised the two men as the Raja’s kidnappers and was surprised at the amicable way in which Surya greeted them.

“My dear Raja,” greeted Namtar, bowing gently. “It is indeed a pleasure to once again be in your service. You have picked a fine day to strike another blow for freedom.”

“It’s raining in Lanka,” Ganesa told him, gazing into the clear blue sky over Ayodhya. A favourite whinge of the rebels was whether geography alone made Lanka such a dull, wet place, for many would not put it past Que Qiao terraforming teams to purposely make it so.

“You two started all this,” Ravana said guardedly, regarding Namtar and Inari with suspicion. “I saw you take the Raja from the palace.”

“These are the kidnappers?” asked Ostara. She sounded disappointed.

“You’re from that crazy asteroid?” remarked Inari. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Can you save the small talk until later?” interrupted Hanuman. “That includes getting chatty on your wristpads. If we need to pass on messages then Ganesa, Ravana and the Raja will use a secure channel via their implant headcoms. Is that clear?”

He looked around the group and saw seven heads nodding. Fenris did not look so sure.

“There is no way you will get away with this,” he retorted sullenly. “Taking a prisoner from beneath the noses of Que Qiao! Your plan is preposterous!”

“We’ll see about that,” replied Hanuman. “Everyone, get on the bus.”

In no time at all they were hurtling along the elevated expressway towards the city centre, high above the vast rice paddies that surrounded Ayodhya as far as the eye could see. Ganesa spent the time teaching Ravana and Surya how to use their headcom, the inbuilt implant communicator, which fascinated Ravana no end until she accidentally switched off the privacy setting and was instantly bombarded by calling cards, advertising messages and recorded friendship invitations, all from total strangers on the local net.

Unlike the compact city of Lanka, Ayodhya began life as a rambling series of linked domes and terraforming had allowed the low-density conurbation to spread further still. As the hoverbus neared the graceful towers and sprawling industrial facilities on the outskirts of the city, they passed a cavalcade of jet cycles escorting a large official-looking ground car, all headed in the opposite direction.

“Governor Jaggarneth,” Hanuman remarked. “On his way to the conference.”

The church hoverbus continued across a slender suspension bridge towards the island park in the heart of Ayodhya, at the centre of which lay the majestic Palace of Sumitra. The expansive gardens and surrounding lake were open to the public and in no time at all the bus was pulling to a halt in a small, tree-lined car park within sight of the palace perimeter fence.

The low rounded towers of Sumitra lay beyond a stretch of open ground. Ravana was surprised at how tranquil the scene looked, for she had been expecting to find a fortified military base bristling with Que Qiao armed guards. One by one, they trooped off the hoverbus and walked towards the fence to get a better look.

“That used to be my home,” murmured Surya, visibly moved.

“The Platypus !” exclaimed Ravana. Holding up her cat, she pointed to the indistinct purple and white shape to the right of the palace. “Look, Jones! There’s our spaceship!”

Zotz rummaged through the bag he carried and withdrew a pair of gyroscopic binoculars. Putting them to his eyes, he nodded in agreement, then offered them to Ravana. Inari was already attacking the fence with a laser cutter and within minutes had sliced a large ragged hole in the wire mesh. Ravana peered through the binoculars and examined the distant spacecraft, which looked rather forlorn standing alone at the end of landing strip.