A small dot had appeared high above the eastern horizon, one growing larger by the second as the incoming spacecraft screamed through the air at a rate only obtainable by dropping out of space onto a planet inconveniently rotating the wrong way. Within moments the purple and white dot had expanded enough for the watchers to see its short wings. As Verdandi, Endymion and the others stared out across the Tatrill Sea, they suddenly heard a loud crashing rumble as the speeding projectile dropped through the thickening atmosphere and overtook its own sound waves.
“What was that?” asked Philyra, startled. “Thunder?”
“Sonic boom,” replied the man at the next desk.
Endymion kept his gaze upon the incoming spacecraft, which was coming in low and fast. The freighter had four wings, one pair above another, seemingly made of a strange flexible material and quite unlike the rigid swing-wings of other mixed-mode spacecraft he had seen. As he looked closer, he was startled to see that only three of the four undercarriage assemblies had lowered into the correct position, for one of the front sets of wheels had decided not to join its companions. The operator too had seen the same thing and flicked the switch on his console once again.
“Scramble the fire engines,” he ordered. “All units to runway one.”
“Do you think they’ll make it?” asked Endymion, suddenly worried. This was one job he did not want to be sweeping off the runway.
“Newbrum spaceport to Platypus,” the operator called. “We have visual on possible landing gear malfunction. Please advise. Over.”
“I was hoping the computer was over-reacting again,” crackled the response. “Never mind. We’re running light so hopefully it’ll hold. Over.”
“I wish I could be that confident,” murmured Verdandi.
The Platypus was now no more than five kilometres away, then three, then one; skimming ever lower above the surface of the sea. It appeared the pilot was trying to put the wheels down as soon as possible so not to waste a single centimetre of the long landing strip. Nose high, the cylindrical hull of the freighter swept over the marker beacons at the start of the runway, clipping one of them with a tail fin to send it spinning away. Moments later, an almighty screech of rubber ripped through the thin air and the rear wheels met the ground.
“He’s doing well,” the operator murmured.
The Platypus tore at breakneck speed down the uneven runway, the freighter’s wings shaking violently. Endymion found himself holding his breath as he watched the front end of the spacecraft slowly descend onto the last remaining set of wheels. The freighter tilted a little to starboard as the weight settled upon its precarious support, but the undercarriage seemed to be holding. Endymion released a sigh of relief.
“What a landing!” he murmured.
The Platypus sped past the spaceport dome, the spacecraft’s main thrusters now in full reverse mode in an attempt to bring it to a halt. Verdandi moved to the next window to continue to watch its progress and Endymion followed suit. With smoke billowing from the undercarriage brakes, the freighter was slowing down but rapidly running out of runway. It finally came to a shuddering halt mere metres from the end, then promptly disappeared beneath the plumes of white vapour pouring from its wheels. The Platypus had landed.
“Platypus to Newbrum control, we are down safe,” crackled the speaker. “Over.”
“Captain Quirinus, that is both the best and the worst landing I have ever seen!” replied the operator. “Welcome to Newbrum. Over.”
Endymion watched two fire rescue vehicles rush out onto the runway towards where the spacecraft had come to rest. Incredibly, the freighter was now moving again, turning around on its three good sets of wheels in a determined attempt to make it to the spaceport hangar under its own power. The smoke cleared and as the spacecraft approached the dome Endymion recognised it as a heavily-modified Mars-class interplanetary carrier in unusual purple and white livery. Having four wings instead of two was strange enough, but the craft also had a curious flat projection jutting forward from the curved bow of the cylindrical hull. As he watched, the wings began to retract into the hull, revealing a smaller than usual cargo door at the side.
“Strange-looking spacecraft,” Bellona remarked.
Endymion had to agree. “The name isn’t so silly after all,” he mused. “The flat bit at the front does make it look a bit like a duck-billed platypus.”
Upon learning that Miss Clymene was still at the spaceport, pestering off-duty flight crews in an attempt to find someone willing to accept a charter to Daode, Verdandi asked her to take charge of Endymion, Bellona and Philyra while she went to the arrivals lounge to meet the crew of the Platypus. When Endymion once again hinted they were in some way involved following their trip to the Eden Ravines, Verdandi reluctantly invited Miss Clymene and her students to accompany her. Endymion, Bellona and Philyra went with some trepidation, for their earlier jokes about aliens had settled uneasily upon their minds and imaginations were running wild as to what the visitors from the legendary colony ship would look like. As they walked, Bellona attempted to bring Miss Clymene up to date, but her teacher still had other things on her mind.
“Aliens, eh?” she mused. “Do you think they take charters?”
*
Ravana walked across the deserted arrivals lounge and paused by a window to gaze upon the neighbouring steel and glass dome of Newbrum city. Everywhere she looked inside the city’s protective shell she could see distant specks that were people: at the windows and balconies of the tower blocks, on the bustling walkways, in the vehicles plying the streets; all busy living their lives just like their ancestors on Earth had done for thousands of years. The main dome of Newbrum was no more than a kilometre wide and a fifth as much high and thus nowhere as big as the hollow moon, yet to Ravana it literally seethed with humanity. She found it hard to comprehend that so many people could live in such a small space.
The view across the coastal plains was something else. She had been to Ascension before, having previously accompanied her father on trading runs to the small community of Lan-Tlanto on the far side of the planet, so was used to seeing the bloated red sun hanging high in the sky. However, this was the first time she had set eyes upon the Tatrill Sea and the sight of so much water stretching to the horizon was awe-inspiring.
“Amazing,” murmured a voice behind her. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ravana smiled. Ostara, a slender Chinese woman just a few years older than herself, stood nearby, looking at the same view with a similarly stunned expression. She liked Ostara a lot and had been pleasantly surprised when she had joined them on this trip. A random selection process had recently awarded Ostara the dubious position of head of security on the Dandridge Cole and other than an ongoing investigation into some stolen laboratory equipment, the kidnap of Raja Surya was her first real test in the role. Quirinus and Fenris, the other half of their contingent, sat uneasily at the other side of the arrivals lounge under the watchful eye of a silent security guard.
Upon hearing the sound of footsteps, all four of them turned and saw two women enter the lounge, one of whom was accompanied by a boy and two girls of around Ravana’s age. Ravana guessed from her smart attire that the woman leading the group was in charge. Ostara stepped forward to greet her.
“Ostara Lee,” she said, holding out her hand with a hesitant yet calm confidence Ravana had not seen in her before. “Head of security on the Dandridge Cole.”
The woman took Ostara’s hand and shook it carefully. As Quirinus and Fenris came over, the woman’s smile faltered at the sight of the faded and old-fashioned flight suits the four visitors wore, all of which had a blank space at the shoulder where a space agency flag was usually displayed. Her companion and three young followers grinned nervously, perhaps out of relief that the four strangers from space were undeniably human.
“Administrator Verdandi, at your service,” the woman replied. She seemed relieved that Ostara at least was a natural speaker of English and
not relying on the often-erratic wristpad translator. “Glad to see you made it down in one piece.”
“Thank you!” Ostara smiled. “This is Quirinus, pilot of the Platypus,” she said, indicating the pilot, who nodded. “Ravana, his daughter,” she continued, putting a hand upon the girl’s shoulder, “and this is Fenris, chief of staff to Maharani Uma.”
“Hello,” chirped Ravana, giving a little wave. Behind her, Fenris grunted.
“We are honoured,” said Verdandi, eyeing Fenris coolly. “This is Rosanna Clymene, one of our gifted tutors here at Newbrum, along with some of her students.”
“Rosanna!” The gleeful murmur came from the pale slim girl at the tutor’s side. Ravana smiled, recognising her surprise upon realising that even teachers had first names.
“This is an unexpected pleasure!” exclaimed Miss Clymene, sounding both apprehensive and genuinely excited. “This is Bellona, Philyra and Endymion,” she added, introducing each in turn.
“Please, take a seat,” Verdandi said, indicating the nearby chairs. “I had arranged for us to use the security office, but an incident with the fire sprinklers has left it full of some wet and very angry people. However, as you can see we have the lounge to ourselves.”
“Thank you,” said Quirinus. Ravana’s father seemed pleasantly at ease, unlike Fenris who had taken on the appearance of a wallaby caught in an oncoming shuttle’s landing lights.
The window next to the seats looked through to the dome’s hangar and the berthed Platypus. Settling into her seat, Ravana watched as a spaceport technician started hammering at the jammed undercarriage, trying to free the stuck wheel. Inside the lounge, the security guard stood quietly by the door to the hangar, his hand resting upon the grip of his regulation stun gun. As the others took their seats, Ravana became aware that Bellona was staring at her in a most unsettling way and self-consciously pulled her hair across to hide her scar.
“We were very surprised to receive your message,” Verdandi told Ostara, once they were all settled. “We had no idea anyone still lived on the Dandridge Cole, though we have suspected for a while it was possibly in use by smugglers.”
Quirinus dropped his gaze. “We do need to fly supplies to the hollow moon from time to time,” he said. “I admit we rarely seek official clearance for flights to Ascension.”
“A few of my staff did recognise your ship,” Verdandi remarked. “Though they tell me the illegal spaceport at Lan-Tlanto is your more usual port of call.”
“Illegal?” Quirinus raised a surprised eyebrow. “‘Independent’ is a better word.”
“But that’s not why we are here,” interrupted Ostara.
“Indeed,” replied Verdandi. “Your news was disturbing, to say the least.”
“It is a tricky political situation,” said Fenris, breaking his silence. “I must ask all of you not to breathe a word of this to anyone. Should news of the kidnapping reach Yuanshi, it would only add fuel to the bitter fire of rebellion burning on the moon.”
“Who’s been kidnapped?” asked Philyra, curious.
“Don’t interrupt,” scolded Miss Clymene.
“It was the Raja,” Ravana told Philyra. “I saw it happen. He’s just a boy.”
“Raja Surya, heir to the old throne of Yuanshi,” Quirinus added. “He was taken from his home on the Dandridge Cole and we think he was brought here to Ascension.”
“We have little evidence to substantiate that,” Verdandi said cautiously.
“Quirinus and his colleagues tracked an unidentified spacecraft following a course to Ascension,” Fenris pointed out. “Alas, by the time we were ready to send a ship in pursuit it was too late.”
“I’m in charge of the investigation,” Ostara told her, then glared at Fenris, who rolled his eyes in an obvious display of contempt. “But my experience is limited.”
“So now you have decided to come to the proper authorities,” remarked Verdandi. “Which, I may say, you should have done long ago rather than hide away on the fringes. We have had a couple of security incidents recently,” she confirmed. “A stolen spacecraft, a mysterious explosion in the Eden Ravines; but I repeat there is precious little to suggest that the Raja is anywhere on Ascension.”
“The Ravines?” chirped Endymion. “Is this about the Nellie Chapman?”
He gulped. Verdandi was staring at him with a look that could freeze a supernova.
“Endymion,” said Miss Clymene gently. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
“Didn’t see nothing,” mumbled Endymion, suddenly reticent to say more.
“That’s a double negative,” Bellona pointed out. “And therefore not a lie.”
Miss Clymene produced an empty foil-wrapped carton from her pocket and showed it to Endymion. “And this looks suspiciously like a zero-gravity food pack from a spacecraft,” she declared. “I found it near your sleeping bag just before we left the Ravines.”
“A clue!” exclaimed Ostara. She took the empty wrapper from Miss Clymene and examined it carefully. “See the teeth marks? Maybe some strange alien creature stole this morsel of food from somewhere then found its way to your camp, seeking warmth.”
Endymion nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”
“Or a certain someone was out and about in the jungle when he shouldn’t have been and took the rations from a possible crime scene,” suggested Miss Clymene. Bellona and Philyra blushed and shuffled along the seat away from Endymion, who stared at his shoes. “Someone with the annoying habit of opening packets with his teeth?”
Ostara considered this. “That is a possibility,” she admitted.
“We suspect the wreckage in the Eden Ravines is indeed the Nellie Chapman, but that hasn’t as yet been confirmed,” Verdandi said slowly. “Young man, are you saying you saw the ship before it was destroyed?”
“We all saw it,” Bellona told her, when it became clear Endymion had lost his tongue. “We were looking for the meteor the scientists said had fallen nearby. Endymion was the only one to go inside, though.”
“Thanks,” muttered Endymion.
“So what makes you think this ship was involved in the kidnap?” asked Ostara.
“The flight computer,” Endymion replied sullenly. “I checked the coordinates and saw that its last flight was from the Dandridge Cole.”
“Clever boy,” remarked Quirinus.
“Not really,” retorted Verdandi. “The scientist at the Ravines who found the spacecraft noticed an explosive device attached to the main console. By the time our bomb disposal expert arrived, there was not a lot left for her to examine. This young man was lucky not to blast himself into orbit. Anyone would think he was on egg!” she said, looking at Endymion.
“Egg?” queried Ravana, confused. Ostara shrugged.
“What sort of ship was it?” asked Quirinus.
“Asteroid miner,” replied Endymion. “With an Astromole digging machine.”
“Astromole!” exclaimed Ravana. “That’s the name I saw on the side of the machine that took the Raja and the men down into the ground!”
“If the boy’s testimony is to be believed then it seems the young Raja may be on Ascension after all,” said Verdandi, looking thoughtful. “I will personally…”
Endymion held up his hand. “Excuse me, Administrator,” he said. “There’s more.”
Verdandi looked most displeased at being interrupted mid-flow. “Well?”
“There was another ship,” he said tentatively. “There were marks on the ground where it had landed next to the mining ship.”
“More witnesses!” Ostara said excitedly. “This Ravines place is a tourist area, right? The other ship could be a coach party from Earth, or one of those flying souvenir shops which sell ice-cream, or…”
Quirinus held up his hand to stop her. “Has anyone got a more sensible theory?”
“The Maharani believes her son has been taken to Yuanshi,” Fenris declared, glaring at Quirinus. “The symbol left upon the palace wall was that of the
freedom fighters of Lanka. You have to take me to Epsilon Eridani. We need to continue the search from there!”
Miss Clymene looked at Quirinus. Ravana heard her murmur something about her and the band being dropped off on Daode along the way. Quirinus however had other ideas.
“How dare you ask that of me!” he retorted. “Ravana and I went through hell on that moon. Your crack-pot religion has torn Yuanshi apart. There is no way I am going to risk my life going back to Epsilon Eridani just to hunt for some third-rate prince!”
“Father!” exclaimed Ravana. She had never seen her father so angry.
“Crack-pot religion?” exclaimed Fenris. “You dare to mock the followers of Taranis?”
“I am not going to Yuanshi,” said Quirinus. “I’ve escaped your stupid holy war once already and I have no intention of throwing myself back into that madness again.”
“Madness?” shrieked Fenris. “Stupid holy war?”
“It sounds even more convincing when you say it,” Quirinus told him.
“So you’re definitely not going to Epsilon Eridani?” Miss Clymene asked.
Fenris stood up. “I am not taking any more of these insults!” he declared. Glaring once more at Quirinus, he strode away through the arrivals lounge and was gone.
Ravana stared after the departing figure in shocked disbelief. Her gaze met those of Verdandi and Ostara, who both looked equally stunned.
“Are all you people this highly strung?” Verdandi asked Ostara.
Ostara shrugged. “I don’t think the Maharani is an easy woman to work for.”
“He’ll be back,” mused Quirinus. “He’s got no other way of getting home.”
Chapter Four
The return of the prince
RAJA SURYA gazed through the porthole at the planet hanging in space before them. The gas giant was truly immense, with bands of turbulent clouds in various shades of brown from cream to rusty red, dwarfing the tiny moon that had moved into view to add a sense of perspective. He had been barely four years old the last time he had gazed upon such a sight with his own eyes, yet the view was all too familiar and somehow comforting.
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