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 bore
d.
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.
“Are you really sure about this?” asked Urania, hesitating.
“I’m sure if Xuthus is,” Hestia said coyly.
Xuthus nodded. “We may never get to see what’s down there otherwise.”
This time he took the lead. Brushing past Hestia, he descended the ladder to the bottom of the trench and walked to where the parallel glass walls rose from the sand. The mattock used by Cadmus still lay where it had been dropped by the breached archway. Behind, Hestia and Urania paused to shine their torch beams upon the curious symbols etched into the wall. Xuthus gave a cursory glance over his shoulder, ducked defiantly into the hole and shuffled into the tunnel beyond.
“Hey!” hissed Urania. “Wait for us!”
Xuthus waited for them to catch up, then led the way past the first of the green lamps into the labyrinth. The air tasted of dust and he felt the heat rising with every step he took. After several minutes of walking it occurred to him that they had forgotten to bring oxygen masks, but no one was lying on the floor gasping for breath so he assumed life support in the domes had filled the labyrinth with air.
“Have you noticed the way the passages are angled?” asked Hestia. They had come to yet another tight corner. “We’re following the walls of the star chamber. This maze is set out like a six-pointed star, with us spiralling towards the centre.”
“Just like the sign of the Dhusarian Church,” Xuthus said smugly.
“Or the Star of David,” Urania pointed out. “I think Freemasons use it too. And please don’t refer to it as a maze. People get lost in mazes.”
“We’ll be okay if we follow the lamps,” he reassured her, though he too had seen the other tunnels branching off into the dark.
The thrill of adventure waned and became tiring as they traipsed from one green lamp to the next through one featureless tunnel after another. The occasional downward slope did little to relieve the monotony and it was a while before they noticed how the straight sections got shorter as the roof rose higher. After what seemed an age, they turned a final corner and came to a rubble-strewn archway. The floor glittered with shards of glass, amidst which was a cluster of scrape marks where something long and heavy had been pulled from beneath a pile of fallen masonry. Hestia came to Xuthus’ side and gulped.
“A rock fall,” she murmured. “This must be where Professor Cadmus, err...”
“Was squashed?” suggested Urania. “Bit the dust?”
“Don’t be horrible!” retorted Hestia.
The passage was narrow, humid and heavy with a cloying darkness that swallowed the light of their lanterns. Hestia got to work throwing aside the chunks of rubble Yima and Govannon had placed across the floor in a feeble attempt to block the bomb-damaged arch. The sight of Cadmus’ oxygen mask lying nearby dampened Xuthus’ eagerness to see what treasures lay in the chamber beyond. Hestia’s analysis of how the wall came to collapse on top of the professor only added to the general air of discomfort.
“An explosive charge,” she declared, peering at a fresh gouge in the archway. “Some sort of booby-trap, maybe?”
“A bomb!” exclaimed Urania. “Who would do that? And how? This place was sealed until Cadmus took a mattock to the door and he was the only one left in the dome.”
“You said ‘door’,” mused Hestia. “Govannon said it was a volcanic vent.”
“This temple or tomb or whatever was clearly built by someone,” retorted Urania. “That doesn’t mean Cadmus was right about his ancient aliens, though.”
“Aliens!” echoed Xuthus.
&
nbsp; Hestia wiped her hands on her overalls. “Shall we take a look?”
Xuthus nodded. He swung his torch beam towards the arch and followed Hestia through into the chamber beyond, Urania close behind.
A few steps later he hesitated, his eyes wide. Ahead, their lamps had found a strange shape in the gloom. A huge egg-shaped cocoon, resting serenely in a dark pool.
“What is that thing?” he murmured.
He was in no doubt it was alien. The weird cocoon appeared more biological than mechanical, though it was hard to tell if it was the remains of a long-dead creature or something wholly artificial. There were patches where mottled green skin had decayed to brown and the insect-like spindly legs sprouting from the top gave the impression it may have once been ready to walk away. Xuthus approached the end of the tongue-like protuberance and shone torchlight into the oval opening, half-expecting to see teeth or rotting innards to prove it had once been alive, but the cavity was oddly featureless. The cocoon discomforted him further due to its resemblance to the level-four aliens in his favourite holovid game, which had the annoying habit of scuttling after heroic marines and shooting them with webs of fire. The floor quivered beneath his feet, mirroring his own trembling fear.
Hestia shrieked. Xuthus hastened around the sentry-like grey rods towards her and shuddered as he too saw the mangled giant spider embedded in the floor. Urania gave an irritable frown, herself transfixed by something lying on the far side of the dark pool.
“Weird,” she muttered and beckoned to Xuthus. “Come and look at this.”
Xuthus cautiously went to where Urania stood. He was momentarily puzzled by the pale coffin-sized shape, then yelped in surprise. The smooth capsule wore the faded red, white and blue of the stars and stripes of his home country.
“But that’s...” he began, but could not finish his sentence.
“An American cryogenic capsule,” confirmed Urania. “But how?”
Hestia came to their side and gazed at the white shape for what seemed an age. Xuthus’ mind whirled. All their earlier talk of aliens had not led him to expect this, a modern relic of the space age in such an ancient and bewildering setting.
Paw-Prints Of The Gods Page 28