A news channel held his attention for a while as he tried to understand what the reporters were saying about the civil war. The media in Ayodhya made it look as if Que Qiao security forces were merely acting to protect the people of Yuanshi and that the true villains were the terrorists of Lanka.
After a while his headache returned and he sat down upon a nearby chair, feeling weary. The calibration of his implant had also activated some sort of inbuilt communication device, which impressed him no end until he discovered that visualising a contact list resulted in just one entry, that for Yaksha. He had never been alone like this before. He had lived his childhood in the constant shadow of his mother and the only world he had really known to date was the tiny corner of the Dandridge Cole that had become their home. Yet here he now was, sixteen light years away on Yuanshi, a moon that had taken on an almost mythical status through his mother’s stories of their lost kingdom and his father’s defiant death at the hands of the evil Que Qiao Corporation. Isolated in what was effectively a comfortable prison, it no longer seemed the stuff of legend.
Surya was momentarily disturbed by the soft chink of silver from the study next door. Walking through the connecting door, he looked around the room and saw that someone had entered and left again in his absence. Upon the table in the centre of the room was a small silver tray covered in white linen.
“Food,” he murmured. His stomach growled in a most undignified way.
Intrigued by what strange alien cuisine lay awaiting him, he quickly crossed the room and lifted the cloth from the silver tray. Underneath was a plate heaped with little white squares of bread and a jug of what proved to be milk.
“Cheese and pickle sandwiches,” Surya murmured approvingly, after scrutinising one of the offerings. “My favourite.”
*
At eight o’clock Yaksha dutifully arrived to bring the Raja down to the great hall. Keen to be fed, Surya was washed and dressed ready for dinner. He had gone through the endless row of clothes neatly hanging in the wardrobe and selected a military-style suit, deep blue with gold piping. By now he was not in the least bit surprised to find that it fitted him perfectly.
“I trust you have found everything to your satisfaction?” Yaksha asked him, as she led him down the main stairway. “Kartikeya is most anxious to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.”
“I have everything I could possibly want,” confirmed Surya. “Except…”
Yaksha regarded him kindly. “Your mother?”
Surya was quite taken aback. “I was going to say my wristpad,” he said haughtily. “Something to play music on. My violin even! Why would I want my mother here?”
Now it was Yaksha’s turn to look shocked. “That is no way to talk about your mother!” she scolded. “She brought you into this world, cared for you, educated you and gave you the best start in life she could. You have already lost one parent through the stupidity of others. You do not want to lose the other through being foolish yourself.”
Surya considered this. “I have spoken out of turn,” he apologised.
“Indeed,” said Yaksha. “Secondly, as for your wristpad or violin, I’m afraid music is not allowed in Kubera, unless you count those dreadful hymns Dhusarians are so fond of. Song and dance is forbidden in Lanka. I had hoped you knew that already.”
“No music!” exclaimed Surya, shocked. “At all? Is that why I cannot find any music channels on the holovid?”
“Broadcasts of that type from Ayodhya are blocked,” she told him, with a hint of regret. She saw the Raja’s puzzled expression and tried to explain. “In Lanka, the Dhusarian Church believes that dancing and singing encourages people to abandon self-control, tempting them towards immoral acts. You are too young to understand,” she admitted, as he stared at her, more confused than ever. “And maybe I am too old.”
Surya thought he detected a note of longing in her voice. Yaksha refused to be drawn further and upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, directed him wordlessly through a door into the room beyond.
The banqueting hall was pleasantly warm and decorated in the same opulent style seen throughout the palace. Two huge hologram chandeliers floated near the ceiling, the projected light reflecting off the opaque glass bricks to make the wall shimmer with rainbow hues. The room was dominated by a huge table, at the head of which sat a bearded young Indian man wearing a simple tunic of green. To the man’s left sat Namtar and then Inari, behind whom stood a domestic butler-class android in black and white livery.
The table itself was weighed down with silver dishes containing all manner of foods, many of which unfamiliar to Surya, as well as several bottles of wine and other drink. As they entered, the young Indian man rose from his seat and smiled in greeting.
“Welcome, my prince!” he cried, holding out his hand. “I am Commander Kartikeya. As you may have already been told, I have the dubious pleasure of being in charge of the rabble here on Yuanshi who continue to swear allegiance to your family.”
Surya approached and hesitantly shook the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“There’s no need for formalities here!” exclaimed Kartikeya. “If there were, it would be I who would call you sir. However, war is a great leveller and we are all comrades now. Please, take a seat,” he continued, indicating the empty chair on his right. “Yaksha, won’t you join us?”
Yaksha nodded assent and beckoned to Surya to take the offered seat, before sitting down next to him. Across the table from Surya, Namtar ruthlessly devoured what looked like a lobster, except it was a mottled purple colour and had twice the expected number of claws. Opposite Yaksha, Inari was piling curried meat and basmati rice onto a wad of bread and stuffing it into his mouth as fast as the android butler could refill his plate, not seeming to mind the mess he was making with the sauce that dripped from his chin. Yaksha glanced at him with a shudder and helped herself to a small selection of cooked vegetables.
“The butler won’t mind if you help yourself,” said Kartikeya, giving Surya a wink.
The commander waited for the Raja to take something to eat before he himself joined in the feasting. Surya felt Kartikeya’s eyes upon him as he hesitantly selected from the more conservative vegetable and meat dishes, which reassuringly looked most like the food he was used to back on the Dandridge Cole.
“Yuanshi is famous for its seafood,” Kartikeya remarked, taking one of the purple lobster-like creatures for himself. “Now the oceans have all but thawed our fishermen are landing the most wonderful native delicacies.”
Surya glanced to the remaining Yuanshi lobsters, then thought better of it. He was weary from his journey and not in the mood for trying new experiences, even though the food he had already tried tasted better than anything he had eaten in a long time.
“Why am I here?” he asked.
As one, Namtar and Inari stopped gorging and looked up.
“Don’t think of it as a kidnapping,” Namtar said cautiously.
“Though it probably seemed like one,” added Inari. “Ow! Who kicked me?”
Kartikeya regarded Surya kindly. “We do not mean you any harm,” he said, pouring himself a large glass of red wine. “I am sorry your departure from your mother’s side was a little abrupt, but I can assure you it was in your best interests.”
Surya frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“We have brought you home!” declared Kartikeya. “Liberated you from exile! The Crystal Palace of Kubera has awaited the return of a royal presence ever since your dearly-departed father was cruelly taken away from us by a cowardly Que Qiao assassin. As his only son and heir, it is your destiny to reclaim your father’s throne!”
“I am to be Maharaja?” exclaimed Surya. His day was getting better by the minute.
Kartikeya hesitated, his face looking pained. “You will be Maharaja,” he said guardedly. “All in good time. You are not yet of age and when the time comes a regent will be appointed to help you rule until you are old enough to do so alone.�
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Surya thought about this. “You mean my mother?”
“We wish to protect the Maharani and keep her from harm, especially after we so badly failed your father,” Kartikeya replied carefully. “It is better she remains safe in the Barnard’s Star system and that someone else helps you rule here on Yuanshi.”
“And who would that be?” asked Yaksha, sarcastically. “Anyone we know?”
Kartikeya looked offended. “I believe I am best placed to do so.”
“Would I be king of the whole world?” asked Surya, his mind already contemplating a myriad of possibilities. “As Maharaja, would I be able to do anything I liked?”
“We must first put an end to this tedious war,” Kartikeya replied. “In time we will liberate your home city of Ayodhya and the moon will then be yours to rule.”
“What of the war?” asked Surya. The warmth of the hall was making him sleepy and he put a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Why are we fighting?”
“For freedom!” declared Inari, spitting out a mouthful of chewed rice.
“For the people,” interjected Namtar. “The Que Qiao Corporation has claimed Yuanshi for itself and cares little for those who call it home.”
“And for justice,” concluded Kartikeya. “Our vision is for a world where everyone is equal and free from interference from outsiders. Que Qiao is only interested in what it can take from Yuanshi, not what it can give back.”
“The corporation believed the government of Yuanshi had become corrupt and so replaced the Maharaja’s advisors with their own officials,” Yaksha told Surya. “Those who had become rich under your father’s rule did not like that at all. The rebellion became messy and your family were forced to flee.” She caught Kartikeya’s glare and stared back in defiance. “The boy needs to know the facts, not the political rhetoric.”
“What have Que Qiao ever done for Yuanshi?” asked Kartikeya. “Tell me that!”
Yaksha shrugged. “Given us a breathable atmosphere?” she suggested.
“Not to mention the cities and infrastructure,” said Namtar.
“And food,” added Inari, burping loudly into the butler’s face. “Lots of it.”
“Que Qiao is taking Yuanshi’s wealth for themselves!” retorted Kartikeya. “Just like it has long done on Daode. The justice we will bring to this moon is only the start, for our ultimate goal must be to rid Yuanshi, Daode and Lingbao of Que Qiao so that all of India’s children can share in the bounty of Shennong.”
“Just like you are sharing the wealth of Kubera?” retorted Yaksha. Surya, sitting sleepily at her side, wondered if he had been forgotten. “Is it not hypocritical of you to preach of equality from the comfort of a palace when so much of Lanka lives in poverty? Or to sit drinking the best wines when alcohol is forbidden by the Church you profess to serve?”
“Yaksha,” murmured Kartikeya, warningly.
“What with your pretentious royal court, your foolish feud with Que Qiao and the ban Taranis has imposed on music and anything else that brings a bit of joy to the poor, you and that mad priest seem determined to drag Yuanshi back into the dark ages!”
Silence fell across the table. Kartikeya stared frostily at Yaksha, then jumped as Inari clumsily dropped a serving spoon into his dish, where it landed with a loud clatter. As one, Kartikeya, Namtar and Inari turned to see how Surya had reacted to Yaksha’s impromptu outburst. They were greeted by the sight of the Raja slumped forward upon the table, almost but not quite fast asleep. The long day really had been too much for him.
“It is fortunate he is not awake to hear your words,” murmured Kartikeya.
Surya, his eyes closed, heard a scrape of a chair and felt a hand upon his shoulder.
“It is not my words he should be worried about,” Yaksha replied softly. “If you will excuse us, I will take him to his chamber. He has another long day ahead of him tomorrow.”
*
Kartikeya sat at the holovid console, waiting for the connection to be made. He felt ill at ease; partly because the tiny alcove in which the console stood in the palace basement made all users feel claustrophobic, but more because the man to whom he was about to speak increasingly left him with little room for manoeuvre.
Behind him in darkness was what he liked to call his top-secret operations room, a large barrel-roofed basement in which pride of place was given to his prized holographic projection table loaded with geographic studies of all Yuanshi. In the palace kitchens above he heard sounds of movement as Hanuman and Ganesa, having come from the Sun Wukong to get some rest before their next assignment, helped themselves to whatever food Inari had left unmolested. Inari himself had departed earlier with Namtar to embark upon a night-time raid in Ayodhya.
The message on the screen had been ‘waiting’ for what seemed an age. Kartikeya cursed and waited a little longer, then when the message still failed to change reluctantly brought up the contact details for Kubera’s resident technician on his wristpad. Moments later, a tired-looking redheaded woman appeared on the wristpad’s tiny screen.
“Kubera service desk,” she said sleepily. “How may I help you?”
“The holovid isn’t working,” Kartikeya told her, not bothering to hide his irritation. “I’m expecting a very important call but nothing’s come through.”
“Are you using the one in the basement?”
“If you mean the operations room communications centre, then yes.”
“And where’s the call coming from?”
Kartikeya blinked. He had regular holovid conversations with this particular caller but now he thought about it, he had no idea where the holovid transmissions actually originated.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted sheepishly. He called up the holovid’s call log and scrutinised the display. “The last one came from Station BS3, if that helps.”
“That’s the Ascension servermoon, Barnard’s Star,” the technician told him. There was a pause while she tapped at a console on the desk before her. “There is a transmission trying to come through, so it may be a fault with your holovid unit. Have you tried turning it off and on again?”
“No,” mumbled Kartikeya. He reached behind the console and pressed the power button, waited a few seconds, then pressed it again. The holovid screen flickered, quickly ran through its start-up checks, then much to Kartikeya’s relief the status message on the screen changed from ‘waiting’ to ‘connecting’.
“Thank you,” he said. “It seems to be working now.”
“Glad to hear it,” she snapped back. “Don’t drag me out of bed again.”
The wristpad call ended. Kartikeya was momentarily distracted by the sound of movement in the room behind and was about to turn to look when his gaze was drawn to the console before him. The screen now showed a face that no matter how many times Kartikeya saw it still sent an uncontrollable shiver down his spine. The man’s grey skin hung in folds; the metal plates upon his skull seemingly ready to squash his head down into his chest at a moment’s notice. Only his head and black-robed upper torso could be seen but that was enough to see the glistening pipes running out of the skullcap and down his back.
The years had certainly left their mark. The caller was barely recognisable as the man Kartikeya had known personally in the early days of the rebellion. Even before his mysterious disappearance the priest had used a spider walker mobility chair to get around, but looking at him now his return from the dead seemed more than a mere figure of speech.
Kartikeya nodded curtly at the screen. “Good evening, Taranis. I trust all is well?”
On the screen, the priest’s face twisted with displeasure, not that it made much difference to his gnarled features.
“Kartikeya, all is not well!” he snapped. “Has the Raja arrived?”
“Safe and sound,” Kartikeya confirmed. “He is resting upstairs.”
“I have a report from Fenris,” Taranis informed him. “The ship your idiots used to board the Dandridge Cole has already been found. Instead of
losing it in the jungle, those numbskulls landed too close to the research station.”
“Navigation was never Namtar’s strong point. Are the authorities on the case?”
“If not, they soon will be,” retorted Taranis. “The Maharani sent Fenris to Newbrum to ask for help in tracing the Raja’s kidnappers. He tells me that he must do her bidding if he is to avoid suspicion, but aims to join you on Yuanshi as soon as he can. There is still much that can go wrong, Kartikeya. Did you find out why Namtar moved ahead of schedule?”
“He swears he picked up the signal from the Raja’s implant and acted as ordered,” Kartikeya replied. “They were lucky Fenris managed to think on his feet and keep the palace guard occupied, for it could have gone a lot worse.”
“By the mighty greys, why do I get saddled with fools?” exclaimed Taranis, shaking his head in exasperation. “It matters not, for we have another problem. There was a witness, a girl named Ravana, who saw your men with the Raja. Fenris spoke to her afterwards and I watched on a holovid link. She saw too much.”
“Ravana?” mused Kartikeya. “Who on Yuanshi would be so daft to name their daughter after some mythical demon king? I bet she was bullied rotten at school. I’ve heard it’s almost impossible to change your name once it’s lodged on the network.”
“The point is your careful planning has come to nothing! Not only is our timetable compromised, but those fools have left a trail any idiot could follow.”
“The plan will work,” Kartikeya reassured him. “We are to spread the word that Que Qiao abducted and murdered the Raja, then once the conference has collapsed and the people are at arms, Surya will miraculously reappear, ready to lead Lanka to victory. All Fenris has to do is get here in time to make sure the Raja’s appearance goes as planned.”
“Fenris is concerned that the mind probe he was secretly running prior to Surya’s liberation may not work, as the hypnosis was incomplete. I trust the Raja remains unaware of how we have shaped his thoughts while he slept. Will he cooperate when the time is right?”
“I think so,” replied Kartikeya. “I have told him a little of our plans and he appears keen to claim his father’s inheritance. He seems very at ease here at Kubera.”
Hollow Moon Page 10