Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

“I came to Daode as a player in a school band, hoping to do my bit for peace,” said Ravana. Right on cue, the plaintive wail of a home-made quadraphonic autoharp theremin drifted out of the hall’s public address system. She felt a shiver run down her back. “Music is all things to all people and comes directly from the soul. I hope that being here with others from across the five systems, we can show how we can come together as one.”

The high, wavering flutter of a flute joined the theremin. The presenter, seizing the opportunity to bring the debate to a poignant close, signalled to her backstage colleagues to open the main curtains. As the apprehensive players of Newbrum were revealed to the eyes of the worlds, a nervous Xuthus stepped onto the stage and approached Surya and Ravana, his violin in his hands. Zotz was concentrating upon his theremin but found time for a quick grin.

“Raja Surya,” said Xuthus. Somewhat awestruck, he looked ready to curtsey as he presented his violin and bow. “Would you care to join the performance?”

“I would be delighted!” Surya exclaimed. He took the offered instrument.

“I’ll need it back afterwards,” Xuthus whispered hurriedly.

The Raja put the violin to his shoulder and played a quick double-stopped riff as a counterpoint to Zotz’s and Philyra’s ambient improvisation, then gave a broad grin. Yaksha and her opposite number were busy trying to preserve Kartikeya’s and Jaggarneth’s dignity by getting them off stage as gracefully as possible, for both leaders looked increasingly disgruntled at the way the debate had slipped out of their hands. Backstage, someone hurriedly brought an extra chair for the new member of the band.

“No more talking!” Surya declared. “It’s time for some music!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the presenter. “The Newbrum Academy band!”

Miss Clymene, standing with baton raised as Ravana and Surya took their seats, was trying to maintain a professional composure but looked like the cat that got the cream. Zotz and Philyra brought their improvisation around to the opening bars of Bantoff’s Shennong , thus enabling Bellona and Endymion to finally work out what was going on and join in. Ravana picked up her cornet and smiled across to Surya, who was scrutinising the music on Endymion’s stand, then looked to where her father, Ostara and Yaksha were watching from the wings and waving. Everything in the world suddenly seemed right.

“Ready?” whispered Miss Clymene. “Let’s show them what we can do!”

The rest of the evening was a blur. Later, Ravana recalled little of all that followed the euphoria and rapturous applause at the end of their performance, other than the endless hugs from her father, the emotional backstage reunion with Yaksha and the excitement of the band when the winners of the music competition were finally announced. Celebrations were short; Yaksha advised the crew of the Platypus to leave Daode as soon as they could, for she had overheard some disturbing exchanges between Kartikeya and Jaggarneth. By the time the peace conference officially drew to a close, they were rocketing away from Hemakuta and ignoring all calls from Taotie space-traffic control to await security clearance. A few hours and one gut-wrenching extra-dimensional jump later, the Platypus was back in the Barnard’s Star system and a mere ten million kilometres from home.

Quirinus and Ostara had the flight deck to themselves, leaving the Newbrum band to continue their celebrations in the confines of the spinning carousel. Ravana’s cat had gone to sleep inside a cupboard aboard the ship whilst the crew were at the conference, but was now out of hiding and sitting contentedly upon Ravana’s lap. Miss Clymene was captivated by the tiny gold cup in her hands. She had not once let go of it since Governor Atman presented it to her and still could not believe all that had transpired.

“We won,” she murmured, for what seemed the millionth time that night. “My little band is the best in the whole five systems!”

Ravana, Bellona and Surya were looking at the screen of Philyra’s wristpad, watching a short holovid she had recorded earlier with Endymion’s help. It showed Philyra in the conference hall control room, acting the part of a newscaster as she related the story of the plot to brainwash the Raja and inflame the civil war. Surya was visibly perturbed when he saw the on-screen Philyra hold up the device Endymion had found in the crate. By now they had all swapped tales of what they had learned on Yuanshi and Daode and the Raja had been quite startled at the political machinations going on around him.

“It’s a good report,” he said approvingly. “Do you plan to show it to anyone?”

“We already have,” Philyra told him. “We used the hotel messaging service to send it to everyone on the Avalon broadcast team. It’s also been uploaded to the net. We filmed it when we went back to sabotage the device,” she added, feeling an explanation was due. She gave Bellona a smug look. “Still think it was a stupid idea?”

“It’s fantastic!” said Ravana. “This is the sort of rebellion I like!”

“One thing still puzzles me,” mused Endymion. “In films the bad guy always has a motive but I can’t see what Fenris had to gain from all this.”

“Fenris was just the stooge,” Zotz declared. “The real bad guy is Taranis!”

“Taranis?” asked Bellona. “Who is he?”

“The leader of the Dhusarian Church,” said Surya. “Yaksha called him a mad priest and said he was the one who banned music and dancing in Lanka.”

“Hanuman told us he was also interested in aliens and cloning,” added Ravana.

“This Taranis sounds a right bundle of laughs,” muttered Miss Clymene, still staring at the gold cup in her hands. “I’m glad you left him behind on Yuanshi.”

“That’s the odd thing,” Endymion remarked. “Back at the hotel, when we hacked into the holovid between Taranis and Fenris, the call came via the Ascension servermoon.”

“There’s a mad priest loose back home?” asked Philyra. “Are you on egg?”

“You’d have to be on egg to mix with Dhusarians,” Endymion retorted.

Ravana smiled at the memory of the giant grey eggs they had seen at the plantation.

“Did you know egg is literally just that?” she remarked, inadvertently changing the subject. “Alien eggs laid by giant, genetically-engineered thunderworms?”

Both Philyra and Bellona looked disgusted at the idea. Endymion just shrugged.

“Ravana helped us break into a top-secret laboratory,” Zotz said proudly. “Her implant is a special-forces one that can open any door she likes!”

“Wow,” murmured Endymion, impressed.

Feeling all eyes suddenly upon her, Ravana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Yet Zotz’s mention of her implant reminded her of something that had been bothering her and reaching behind, she pressed a button on the carousel’s computer terminal.

“Ship?” she called. “Do you respond to cranium implant commands?”

“That function has been disabled,” the smooth voice replied.

“Can you enable it?”

“That command is restricted to Captain Quirinus only.”

“Is that so?” muttered Ravana. She rose from her seat and stepped lightly towards the ladder leading to the carousel exit hatch. “I think I need to have a word with my father.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Surya. “I’d like to use the ship’s transmitter to call home.”

“Tell your mother we won,” said Miss Clymene, holding up the cup. “We won!”

On the flight deck, it was immediately apparent that Quirinus and Ostara had more pressing concerns. Professor Wak was talking to the Platypus on the console holovid screen and had very little good news to impart.