Paw-Prints Of The Gods (37 page)

“We had hoods over our
heads,” Philyra reminded him. “I’ve no idea what happened between
us landing here and you finding us. On the spaceship there was just
the pilot and co-pilot, plus a couple of nasty-looking robots in
crates. Didn’t you see anything? Surely you must have heard a
spacecraft landing right next to the dome.”

“I was asleep,”
Quirinus said irritably. “And I left an idiot on watch.”

“There are others
here?” asked Fornax, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“My co-pilot Momus,”
he told them. “And Ravana’s friend Zotz.”

“Zotz is here?”
remarked Philyra. “That’s cool.”

She sipped upon the
sickly chocolate drink and gazed thoughtfully through the window.
Fornax climbed to her feet and hobbled to the door through which
they had come. Quirinus followed and saw that whoever had abandoned
the reporter and Philyra in the hangar had also left behind what he
assumed was their luggage. His mind whirled with unanswered
questions and he was unwilling to let the subject drop.

“These Dhusarians,”
said Quirinus. “What did their ship look like?”

“Some sort of
personnel carrier,” Fornax told him. “A black flying wing.”

“Pretty much like that
one,” said Philyra. Still at the window, she pointed towards an
arrow-shaped blob high above the distant horizon. “Do you think
they’re coming back?”

“What!” exclaimed
Quirinus. “Where?”

He followed her
outstretched finger, stared at the rapidly-approaching spacecraft
and saw straight away he had very little time to investigate the
vehicle outside. A few steps later he was back at the door to the
hangar.

“I’m going to check
that transport before they land,” he told Philyra and Fornax. “Go
and wake the others. They’re in the cabin in the dome, near the
bar.”

“Bar?” Fornax gave a
wry smile. “Now you’re talking.”

* * *

Quirinus hurried to
the hangar, recovered his helmet and in no time at all was through
the airlock and stepping forward into the pink Falsafah dawn. The
wheel ruts left by their night-time visitor followed the curve of
the dome, away from the runway. Moving quickly, he skirted the
growing pool of water at the base of the wind-pump tower and headed
to the front of the stationary vehicle, his eyes peeled for any
signs of movement on the other side of the windscreen. Seeing
nothing, he circled the transport until he reached the airlock
hatch at the rear and cautiously climbed the steps to the
hatch.

The door control
yielded no response, confirming his suspicion that the vehicle was
empty and powered down. More surprising was the heavy lock and
chain on the mechanical override lever, for it was against
emergency safety protocols to prevent outside access to an airlock.
As he glanced back towards the dome, wondering if he had time to
collect cutting gear from the
Platypus
, he saw an angular
black blur shoot down the runway and knew his chance had gone.
Quirinus gave a deep sigh, waited for resultant mist upon his visor
to clear and trod despondently back to the hangar.

By the time he reached
the transit lounge, the newly-arrived spacecraft had pulled to a
halt next to the
Platypus
, well away from the dome. Zotz, a
bleary-eyed Momus and Ravana’s cat had joined Fornax and Philyra at
the window. As they watched, the rear bulkhead between the
flying-wing’s engines folded down to become a cargo ramp, at which
point a spacesuit-clad figure emerged from a hatch at the front of
the ship and walked to the rear.

Momus glanced at
Quirinus. “Been for a walk? You choose your moments.”

Quirinus opened his
mouth to chastise him for missing last night’s visit to the depot,
then decided to leave that particular pleasure until later.
Outside, the spacecraft disgorged a flat-bed trailer from its cargo
hold, upon which was lashed some sort of bulky industrial machinery
mounted upon caterpillar tracks. Once the trailer was a safe
distance from the ship, the spacesuit-wearing supervisor walked
away around the side of the dome.

“Is it the same ship?”
asked Quirinus, placing his helmet upon a chair.

“The
Atterberg
Epiphany
,” Fornax confirmed. “What are they doing?”

“That’s a road-laying
machine,” said Zotz, pointing to the object on the trailer. “They
had one at Newbrum spaceport to do runway repairs.”

Quirinus grinned. “I
heard someone once tried to use it to lay a friend’s patio.”

“Frigging useless
heap,” muttered Momus. “Took me a year to pay for the damage.”

“Aha!” said Fornax and
smiled. “You’re that Momus.”

For a while the scene
on the runway remained unchanged. Philyra extracted Ravana’s cat
from the innards of the molecularisor and took the opportunity to
see what the latter could produce by way of breakfast. Fornax
refused the offer of a pseudo-bacon sandwich with a muttered remark
about a cookery show. Zotz offered one to Ravana’s cat, which
responded with a hiss before leaping off the window sill and
through the open door to the hangar.

Quirinus was the first
to spot the mysterious transport trundling across the dome’s
forecourt towards the runway. As it neared the
Atterberg
Epiphany
, the vehicle executed a sharp turn and reversed
smartly up the ramp into the ship’s cargo bay. After a few minutes,
the transport emerged once more, this time heading straight for the
dome.

“Dropping off
passengers?” suggested Zotz, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Or coming to collect
those left behind,” mused Quirinus, with a glance towards Fornax
and Philyra. “A truckload of angry Dhusarians. What joy.”

“Shouldn’t we hide?”
Philyra said nervously.

“They know we’re
here,” Momus pointed out, sounding weary. “There’s a crappy purple
and white tin can parked outside that couldn’t possibly belong to
anyone else.”

“Do you want to float
home?” asked Quirinus, annoyed.

A loud thud suddenly
echoed from the hangar, followed by the rattle of a compressor as
the airlock pressurised. Quirinus put a finger to his lips and
crept towards the open door, then glanced back to see everyone else
cowering at the far end of the lounge. With a frown, he decided in
favour of caution and pulled the door across so it was almost
closed.

There was a second
clunk. He peered through the gap and saw the inner airlock door
slide open to reveal the rear end of the transport. He expected it
to reverse onwards into the chamber, but instead the vehicle’s
hatch opened and a stout figure, wearing a grey habit and
headscarf, backed through the opening and down the steps. By the
time the passenger stepped clear, the hatch had sealed and the
hangar airlock door was sliding shut once more. Quirinus caught a
glimpse of Ravana’s cat scooting through into the closing airlock
and groaned.

“What’s happening?”
hissed Fornax.

“They’ve dropped one
person off, but it looks like the transport is leaving again,”
Quirinus whispered. The figure in the hangar had yet to turn
around. He quietly closed the door and tapped a command into the
control panel on the wall.

“You’ve locked the
door,” observed Momus. “Who’s out there?”

“Some woman,” Quirinus
replied. “I couldn’t see her face. She looks like a nun.”

“A Dhusarian nun?”
remarked Fornax. “There’s a novelty.”

“This is from the fake
Sister Gabriel,” scoffed Philyra.

The transport was back
on the runway. Quirinus returned to the window and watched the
vehicle reverse to the parked machinery and hitch itself to the
trailer. With the cargo in tow, the transport pulled away from the
runway, around the side of the dome and out of sight. The
Atterberg Epiphany
stood silent on the deserted
airstrip.

“Where are they
frigging going with all that?” asked Momus.

“Where do you think?”
retorted Fornax. “The excavation, of course.”

Zotz noticed the empty
window sill. “What happened to Ravana’s cat?”

Quirinus frowned and
wondered if he could justify sending Momus out to chase an errant
electric cat. A thump of footsteps from the hangar reminded him
they had a visitor. Moving cautiously, he stepped to the doorway,
released the lock and opened the door.

He stared in dismay at
the portly middle-aged Indian woman standing beyond.

“You!” he exclaimed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

It took a great deal
of effort to unclench the fist he had subconsciously formed. The
woman gave a sly smile and lifted her hands to show him a wriggling
live rat. Her grip tightened, then with a twist and crack of bones
the creature struggled no more.

“Quirinus O’Brien,”
she said gaily. “After all these years!”

“Mallika Jizo,” he
growled, eyeing her coldly. “What an unexpected displeasure.”

“You know her?” asked
Fornax, somewhat perturbed by the newly-deceased rat.

“The nurse who cried
wolf,” said Quirinus. “Only now there’s no Taranis to run to.”

* * *

Xuthus sighed. His eye
was upon the crack in the door, which was open just enough for him
to watch what was happening outside the students’ habitation cabin.
Govannon and Yima had spent the day exploring the mysterious star
chamber. Ininna, after a nervous look at the dark opening in the
trench, opted instead to keep watch in their absence and had
ordered Xuthus, Urania and Hestia to their quarters until further
notice. The men emerged barely an hour ago but no one had come to
tell them what they had found. With nothing to do and nowhere to
go, Urania and Hestia had drawn the curtains against the
brightly-lit dome outside and retired to bed, leaving Xuthus alone,
frustrated and bored.

Govannon and Yima had
gone into dome two with a wheelbarrow full of biochemical lamp
units, a large white bag Ininna fetched from their transport and a
holovid camera to record whatever they saw. When Xuthus saw them
return, the wheelbarrow bore a long white shape, which the men
solemnly carried to a quiet corner behind the neighbouring cabin.
It was an inglorious end to Professor Cadmus’ final
investigation.

“It’s not fair,”
Xuthus muttered.

“What isn’t fair?”

Xuthus jumped and
stifled a cry, caught unawares by the voice in his ear. Hestia was
big and often clumsy, but could move surprisingly quietly when she
wanted to. He turned to find her peering over his shoulder at the
scene beyond the gap in the door.

“What’s not fair?” she
repeated, whispering. “Cadmus being killed like that?”

“Err... yes,” Xuthus
lied, his voice hushed. “It’s very sad.”

“Xuthus is upset
because Govannon wouldn’t let him go with them,” said Urania,
emerging from the shadows of the sleeping area behind them. “Why
are you both whispering like that?”

“I thought you two
were asleep,” grumbled Xuthus.

“It’s a bit difficult
with you stomping around,” Urania retorted.

“Hestia was
snoring.”

“I do not snore!”
snapped Hestia. “I just breathe loudly.”

Urania joined them at
the door and together they watched Govannon walk to the
neighbouring cabin and step inside. Ininna and Yima stood in the
walkway tunnel to dome two, conversing quietly amongst themselves,
then Ininna broke away and walked past the cabins towards the
hangar. The lights in the dome roof faded into darkness, leaving
just the dim glow of Tau Ceti through the translucent roof to
illuminate the scene. Yima yawned, settled down and made himself
comfortable upon a rug in the entrance to dome two.

“It looks like
everyone’s turning in for the night,” murmured Urania. She glanced
at her wristpad. “It’s only seven o’clock!”

Hestia gently pushed
Xuthus aside and opened the door. An eerie hush had fallen upon the
excavation, for all that could be heard was the hum of life support
and the faint hiss of wind-borne sand against the dome. Hestia
glanced at Xuthus and Urania, stepped out of the cabin and
hesitantly looked around.

“Hestia!” Xuthus
whispered urgently. “What are you doing?”

“I need to visit the
poop-mobile!”

Xuthus smirked. She
stuck her tongue out at him and quietly slipped into the gloom.
Going to the toilet had become an obstacle course, for the arrival
of the agents’ transport had left little room for manoeuvre inside
the cramped hangar.

Hestia was not gone
long. Upon her return, instead of coming straight back, Xuthus and
Urania were startled to see her creep towards the prone figure of
Yima. The girl scrutinised him for several tense moments, then
returned to the cabin.

“He’s fast asleep,”
Hestia told them, stepping through the door. “The other one is in
their transport. It sounded like she was using the transceiver to
call someone.”

“What are you
suggesting?” asked Xuthus. He had seen the glint in her eye.

“You’re not the only
one who wants to see what’s inside that chamber,” Hestia said,
grinning mischievously. “This is our chance!”

“You can’t be
serious!” Urania looked perturbed. “We can’t go down there alone!
Aberystwyth would give us hell if we’re caught.”

“Then we make sure we
don’t get caught!” Hestia replied. “Who’s with me?”

Xuthus hesitated, then
nodded. Urania did not look so convinced, but after watching Hestia
and Xuthus as they eagerly pulled on their work boots and equipped
themselves with torches she was ready to join them. Moving
silently, they filed out of the cabin and made their way across the
dome to the sleeping Yima. The agent lay curled upon the blanket,
murmuring quietly to himself and lost in a dream.

“Bless,” murmured
Urania. “He looks so sweet.”

“Shush!” Hestia
whispered.

Yima twitched and gave
a grunt. Xuthus responded with a muted yelp of alarm, but the agent
remained fast asleep. Hestia put a finger to her lips, stepped
carefully past the prone figure and led them into dome two. Soon
they were at the edge of the trench, above the glass-brick archway,
staring wide-eyed at the ragged hole smashed through what indeed
had proved to be a door. The darkness beyond was tempered by the
dim green glow of the biochemical lamps left inside the tunnel. The
passageway looked distinctly sinister.