Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

“None of us know how to program fusion reactors!” exclaimed Ostara.

“I’ve studied basic maintenance,” Ravana told her, thinking of her classes with Professor Wak. “What about Hanuman? Is he on his way?”

“They’re still working on the Platypus ,” Endymion replied, with a tinge of frustration. “As for the reactor controls, I may be able to talk you through it,” he said doubtfully.

Ravana looked glum. “Is there nothing else we can do?”

“We shall force Taranis to undo what he has done!” declared The Flying Fox.

“He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who could be forced to do anything,” Ostara remarked. “Besides, we have Fenris to deal with too.”

“There is another option,” Endymion said cautiously. “The plans show that the reactor and engine assemblies were built as self-contained modules. The system is designed so that in an emergency the entire engine room can be ejected into space.”

“Gosh,” murmured Ostara. “That’s one way of disconnecting Taranis’ handiwork. What sort of emergency?”

“A meltdown?” suggested Endymion. “Something like that.”

“The reactor chamber is secured by explosive bolts,” said Ravana, remembering the red barrel-shaped devices on the wall in the other reactor room. “I saw them inside the engine room for Reactor B.”

“So we smash something vital then make a quick exit,” the birdman announced. “But will justice be done if we send Fenris and Taranis into deep space?”

“It gets my vote,” muttered Ravana.

“It’s not much of a plan,” mused Ostara. “But it is the only one we’ve got.”

Ostara turned from the spy hole in the hatch and regarded Ravana gravely, though it was hard to be serious with a cat bouncing up and down between them. The electric pet was trying to eat the fronds of purple fungus splaying from the air vent in the wall.

“Fenris has tried to blow us up once already,” said Ostara. “I’m pretty certain he and Taranis are not going to be pleased to see us. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Not really,” Ravana admitted. “But there’s four of us and only two of them.”

“Assuming we can get in,” added Surya. “When we tried earlier it would not open.”

“The hatch has been jammed from the inside,” declared The Flying Fox, who had already tried the door mechanism. The torch was at his feet, so all anyone else could see was a brightly-lit pair of red legs. “But do not fear! I shall prevail!”

Surya turned his own torch towards the hatch. The birdman grasped the wheel firmly in both hands and strained hard against the jammed lock. A thin whine was heard from his jet pack, then the feeble bulge of his biceps became impossibly impressive as the birdsuit’s electrically-powered muscles did their utmost to amplify the wearer’s own movements. There was a creak of metal and the wheel turned a fraction.

“Those fake muscles are very distracting,” murmured Ostara.

Ravana heard a note of approval in Ostara’s voice and smiled. The hatch gave another groan and then with a sudden bang the wheel began to spin freely in the birdman’s hand. Surya handed Ravana his own torch and went to help, then together they pulled open the hatch to reveal the short passage beyond.

The Flying Fox stepped over the fallen steel bar that had been jamming the lock, spun the handle on the second hatch and pushed it open. Beyond lay an eerie, green-tinged blackness. A damp smell gusted through the doorway and Ravana wrinkled her nose in disgust, then was almost swept off her feet as her frantically-meowing cat darted ahead with the fury of a piranha at feeding time.

“Jones!” she called. Her words vanished unanswered into the dark.

“That pet of yours needs its chips examined,” muttered Ostara.

“The lights were on in the other engine room,” Ravana murmured apprehensively.

“You want me to go first?” asked The Flying Fox.

As one, the other three nodded. Ravana handed the torch to the masked birdman and stood back as The Flying Fox defiantly followed the beam through the hatch.

The lights of the engine room abruptly blazed into life. Before any of them had time to react, a figure waiting beyond the hatch sprang out of hiding and pointed a gun at the birdman’s padded chest. The Flying Fox gave a startled yelp, dropped Surya’s torch to the floor and hurriedly raised his hands.

“Fenris!” he shrieked.

Ravana cursed and muttered something obscene about Fenris’ parentage.

“We have been expecting you,” snarled Fenris. He stepped closer and aimed the pistol at The Flying Fox’s head. “Though not in fancy dress. All of you, get in here!”

“There goes our plan,” sighed Ostara.

Ravana, Ostara and Surya cautiously stepped through the hatch and joined Fenris and his captive on the steel gallery. It took Ravana several moments to realise that the vast cylindrical cavern before them was indeed the double of the other engine room, for everything in sight was covered in purple mould or fungus, while vine-like growths masked every steel beam, ladder and walkway. Like the other room, the centre of the chamber was dominated by the spherical fusion reactor and its attendant network of conduits and pipes. The air was filled by the same strained humming, only this time it was accompanied by an indistinct and almost human wailing that sent shivers down her spine. Her implant began to pick up vague shadows but nothing her mind could make any sense of.

“You’re a scumbag,” she said, glaring at Fenris. “A cowardly, evil little scumbag!”

“We are here to make you pay for your crimes,” added the birdman, though he sounded far from convinced. One look at the gun had made his artificial muscles wilt.

Fenris ignored them both. “My Raja,” he greeted, adopting a mocking tone. “So good of you to finally join us. Taranis was most disappointed when you declined his invitation.”

“Invitation?” Surya exclaimed, incredulous. “You tried to kill us!”

“Put the gun down, Fenris,” demanded Ostara. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

Ravana glanced towards the control console further along the balcony and then froze as Fenris turned and pointed the gun at her.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. He nodded towards the flight of steps descending from the balcony. “Down there!” he barked.

When no one moved he placed the gun against Ravana’s ribs and gave her a push. Ostara mumbled something under her breath and moved towards the steps, The Flying Fox, Surya and Ravana close behind. Fenris kept his pistol aimed at their backs and did not follow until they had reached the bottom of the stairs.

Ahead rose the huge bulk of the fusion reactor. Ranged before it, nestling amongst the pipes and purple vines, were twelve glass tanks filled with a green bubbling liquid that masked the grey shape within each one. The vats were as high as Ravana herself and all were linked to a haphazard assemblage of laboratory equipment, which in turn was attached via heavy electrical cables to the fusion plant itself. An irritating dull drone filled the warm air as the parasitical vats feasted upon the reactor’s power.

“Where’s Taranis?” whispered Ravana.

She cautiously scanned the scene for any sign of the priest. Her gaze fell upon a pitiful sight. Half-hidden amidst the equipment was a cage barely two metres square, inside which a trembling creature stared back at her from almond-shaped eyes. It looked for all the worlds like a death-row prisoner as its spindly fingers clung helplessly to the bars. As their gazes met, Ravana did not need to see the beautiful blue markings on its skin to know it was the grey stranger from her childhood, the wounded traveller far from home.