Hollow Moon

by Steph Bennion

  The room was unnaturally quiet. Ravana tried to bring up the tracker utility on her wristpad but the touch screen had not worked properly ever since her fall down the airlock shaft. Their suite at the hotel had connecting doors between the different rooms and after cautiously moving from one to the next she quickly established why it was so quiet. Apart from Fenris, who lay fast asleep in the room he was reluctantly sharing with her father, the only other person around was Miss Clymene, who was sharing a chamber with Ostara. Ravana found the teacher sitting on her balcony, enjoying a glass of wine and reading the chapter on Hemakuta in The Amateur Astronaut’s Guide to the Five Systems on her slate. Upon seeing Ravana, Miss Clymene smiled and lowered the slate to her lap.

  “Do you know where everyone has gone?” asked Ravana.

  “Bellona and Philyra went to the floating market,” Miss Clymene replied. “I do hope they and the boys have not forgotten we have a rehearsal later! Your father said he had a few errands to run in town and asked if you could contact him once you were awake.”

  “Okay, I will. The floating market?”

  “It’s not far from the hotel. You can’t miss it, apparently.”

  Intrigued, Ravana headed downstairs to the hotel foyer. After she had coaxed her battered wristpad into sending a message to her father, she went and stood before the large tourist information display near the reception desk. She was flicking through the interactive holovid advertisement for the floating market when a sudden tap on her shoulder made her jump. She turned to see Endymion grinning inanely at her, who having just come from an unnecessarily-lengthy holovid call with his parents back in Newbrum was now bored and looking for something to do.

  “Don’t do that!” Ravana retorted. “You scared the life out of me!”

  “Sorry,” he apologised. “Where are you off to?”

  “I thought I’d take a look at the market,” she said. She pointed to where the display played a holovid of happy shoppers being hassled by market vendors, a scene set somewhat bizarrely in a giant open-air tree house. “Miss Clymene said Bellona and Philyra are there. It’s only a short walk away.”

  Endymion pressed a symbol at the corner of the display and quickly absorbed the satellite image map that now replaced the holovid. “Okay if I come with you?”

  Ravana gave a nod, though in the end it was Endymion who took the lead as they made their way past the crowd outside. A large car had just pulled up and a group of short, pale-skinned executives were stepping out and blinking uncertainly in the sun, their movements clumsy and heavy.

  “Probably from Earth,” said Endymion. “Not used to the low gravity.”

  Ravana smiled. People who lived most of their lives on larger worlds tended to stay short and muscular, especially those born on Taotie where gravity was one and a half times that of Earth. It seemed to her that humanity was dividing into two distinct races, for colonists born and raised in low-gravity environments such as on Daode found it difficult and often painful to live anywhere else. The larger spaceports and shipyards were also found on low-gravity moons and planets, which in turn meant that it was the people of these worlds who became the next generation of explorers and settlers, eagerly searching for somewhere just like home. It was telling that the planet of Aram in Tau Ceti, with its Earth-like conditions, had not tempted many settlers to move on from their new low-gravity worlds.

  Endymion led her along the harbour boulevard and up a wide street heading away from the seafront, keeping the twisted towers of the hotel to their right. The road was lined with an array of ornate and imposing shop fronts, while beyond the moving walkway electric ground cars hissed by every few seconds, their occupants hidden behind mirrored windows. Holographic billboards were everywhere, the more determined of which would follow them for some distance before latching on to a new target, all advertising an amazing variety of stores and services. The holograms were transparent to their movements but the path was still far too crowded for Ravana’s liking, thronged as it was with tall and skinny Asians of all ages. Most were on foot, though many of the elderly rode in hoverchairs or in curious single-seat contraptions that shuffled along on spindly mechanical legs.

  “Spider walkers,” noted Endymion. “All-terrain mobility chairs. Seems a bit silly to use them in a city, though I did know of a disabled pilot who used one at Newbrum.”

  “Why would anyone want to ride a giant robot spider?” asked Ravana, frowning.

  Local fashions varied wildly. Some wore corporate suits but many were dressed in flamboyant unisex clothing with vague hints of traditional Indian styles, to which many added the local bizarre fashion of ornate gold neck braces to emphasise their height. Even without the gold collars the younger people towered over Ravana and Endymion, some reaching two and half metres tall. From the looks some of the lanky youngsters gave to the utilitarian flight suits worn by herself and Endymion she got the impression they were looking down on them in more ways than one.

  Ravana found the street chatter in the local dialect of Hinglish a little difficult to follow. Endymion made her laugh by showing her the enhanced-reality projection of his wristpad. This revealed holographic butterflies and birds fluttering around people’s heads amidst hazy floating clouds of pictures and text, all generated by the data streams from devices held by those around them. To off-worlders like Ravana and Endymion, the concept of proudly broadcasting how many friends you have and what you ate in which trendy restaurant an hour ago came across as highly superficial.

  Beyond the final few shops ahead they saw a park filled with trees of truly gigantic proportions. As they neared the entrance they began to make out the large platforms hanging from the sturdier branches and the wooden walkways crossing from one tree to another, all entwined within an intricate web of wire rigging.

  “I know a secret about Fenris,” Endymion confided as they walked.

  “He’s really a lizard in disguise?” suggested Ravana.

  Endymion laughed. “Not quite. He’s been brainwashing the kidnapped Raja. Ostara said it was all to do with politics and religion and stuff.”

  “What?” exclaimed Ravana. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” he replied, somewhat infuriatingly. “When we find the others.”

  They passed through the park gates and followed a young Indian family across the gravel courtyard beyond. It did not take them long to find the broad moving staircase that led to the tree-house deck above. In a grassy part of the park ahead, a brass band performed to a small crowd and they paused to listen.

  “They’re playing Bantoff’s Shennong,” observed Ravana, recognising the tune.

  Endymion looked genuinely surprised. “Is that what it’s supposed to sound like?”

  Using the tracker application on his wristpad, he found the signal from his sister’s device on a live satellite map of the market and beckoned to Ravana to follow him onto the escalator. The moving stairway bore them swiftly up into the leafy canopy and onto a wide platform that completely encircled the trunk of the tree. They stepped out into a bustle of people, all idly browsing market stalls that were suddenly everywhere they looked.

  The range of goods on offer was incredible. Endymion led her over a footbridge onto the next platform and Ravana stared in wonder at the astonishing displays of food, clothing, jewellery and souvenirs for sale. She was drawn to a stall selling traditional Asian clothing and stared longingly at a saree in emerald green, thinking of the beautiful clothes the Maharani wore, then quickly hurried away when she caught the handsome young stallholder staring at the scar on her face with undisguised disgust.

  The posts and wires supporting the platforms were cunningly concealed, though Ravana’s engineering training helped her pick out the clever techniques that resulted in the incredible illusion that the market floated in thin air. When she looked around for Endymion, eager to share her observations, she saw he had gone ahead to where Bellona and Philyra stood by a curious stall piled high with cages of tiny flutte
ring birds, slumbering reptiles and other strange creatures. As Ravana went to join them, she saw Philyra had failed to resist the temptation to shop for clothes and was wearing a short summer dress in metallic blue that still had a price tag hanging down the back. The dress was extremely low-cut and was making Endymion look at Philyra in a whole new way.

  “What do you think of this dress?” Philyra was asking him, flouncing.

  Endymion looked nonplussed. “It’s very, err… short.”

  “I know!” exclaimed Philyra. She did not seem to mind that he was clearly mesmerized by her exposed cleavage. “Isn’t it fabulous!”

  Ravana glanced towards the cages on the nearby stall. She had initially thought that the creatures within were electric pets, but now she saw they were real animals and birds, a fact she found a little disturbing. Looking closer, she was drawn to a large cage in the corner that held a creature quite unlike the rest. Intrigued, she stepped closer.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” said Endymion, coming beside her. “A real alien!”

  Most of the captive animals and birds were species unique to Daode, but Ravana knew that was not what Endymion meant. The caged creature was the size of a small ape, grey and entirely hairless, with large almond-shaped eyes staring up out of an angular and vaguely lizard-like face. Like an ape, its legs were short and stocky and its arms long, though its feet had just three toes while its delicate hands each had six dainty fingers. As Ravana bent closer, the creature lifted its head and met her gaze with a frightened stare.

  “Poor thing,” she murmured. “It’s just a baby.”

  “A baby grey!” exclaimed Endymion. “I knew it!”

  “There’s no such thing as greys!” retorted Philyra. “It’s nothing more than a shaven Yuanshi water monkey. One of those scams aimed at gullible tourists!”

  Ravana was not convinced. Daode and Yuanshi were teeming with native life when humans first arrived, but it was well known that most higher life-forms died out shortly after large-scale terraforming began. Nevertheless, rumours persisted of secret colonies of intelligent humanoids, reinforced by occasional sightings like her own childhood encounter. There was something about the creature that held her entranced.

  “The Dhusarian Church believes in greys,” she remarked, thinking back to the conversation in the carousel on the Platypus. “Fenris told me all about it.”

  “Fenris!” exclaimed Endymion. “I knew there was something I meant to tell you all. Ostara, Zotz and I listened in on a holovid call and…”

  “Well, well!” came a sudden loud voice. “The terrible trio of Newbrum!”

  As one, Ravana and Endymion turned to see two boys and a girl strutting smugly towards them. All three were expensively dressed in Hemakuta fashions and sported the latest model wristpads, though it occurred to Ravana that this was the one thing she had not seen many local people wearing. She was also a little mystified that anyone would recognise them sixteen light years from home but it was clear that Endymion, Bellona and Philyra knew who the three youths were and were not at all pleased to see them.

  “Xuthus!” growled Endymion. “How unlucky of us to see you here.”

  “And it’s not a trio,” snapped Bellona. “There’s five of us now.”

  “Big deal,” Maia retorted, unimpressed. “We have a whole orchestra!”

  “They’re from the Bradbury Heights band,” Endymion informed Ravana. “Xuthus, Maia and Lodus. Otherwise known as rich, stuck-up and largely brainless.”

  Ravana smiled, not noticing the venomous look Maia gave her.

  “So where are you staying?” asked Xuthus. “And how did you get here? I bet you came on some smelly freighter and you’re having to live in a tent on the beach!”

  “The Platypus is not smelly!” exclaimed Ravana, seeing Lodus snigger.

  “We’re at the Pampa Palace,” declared Endymion. “Beat that!”

  “No way!” said Maia in disbelief. “Are you on egg?”

  “Better than where you’re staying, is it?” remarked Bellona mockingly.

  “You should come and visit,” Philyra suggested to Xuthus, smiling coyly.

  Lodus pushed past Ravana and stuck his chubby fingers through the wire mesh on the front of the nearby cage. He responded to her glare with a defiant leer.

  “Stop that!” Ravana snapped. “You’ll scare the poor thing!”

  “Get lost, scar face,” retorted Lodus. Inside the cage, the grey creature cowered nervously, its child-like gaze transfixed upon the boy’s wriggling digits.

  “Yeah!” sneered Maia. “Scabby bitch!”

  “Don’t be horrible!” retorted Bellona. “Not everyone can be a glamour queen!”

  “There are no words to describe Maia’s own beauty,” Endymion said to Ravana in a mock whisper. “None that can be said in polite company, anyway.”

  “Yeah, well who does she think she is, telling Lodus what to do?”

  Ravana gave Maia a fierce stare. “My name is Ravana O’Brien,” she said. “And I don’t much care to see small defenceless creatures being bullied by big stupid ones.”

  “Big talk from a little girl,” snarled Maia. “Think you’re something, don’t you?”

  Xuthus smiled and seemed content to let Maia’s temper explode. Endymion stepped forward to come between her and Ravana, but was abruptly jostled out of the way by Philyra who was staring into the branches above and not looking where she was going. It was then that Lodus screamed and wrenched his hand away from the cage, his fingers dripping blood. The grey creature, having finally had enough of the boy’s taunts, had tasted human flesh.

  “It bit me!” cried Lodus.

  “That’s your fault!” Maia yelled accusingly to Ravana. As quick as a flash her hand came up in a blur and slapped Ravana hard across the face, causing her to shriek. Blinking back tears, Ravana staggered back and stared at Maia in disbelief.

  “Look out!” shouted Philyra.

  A figure in a red birdsuit suddenly dropped from above and landed before Maia, wings outstretched and fists raised ready for a fight. Maia gave a strangled yelp of surprise, turned to run, then tripped and fell over Lodus, who had dived for cover as soon as the birdman appeared. Together they scrambled to their feet and scuttled behind Xuthus. He was made of sterner stuff and gave the masked birdman a withering stare.

  “A flying ginger ninja,” he remarked coolly. “Here to save the native princess?”

  “It’s him!” cried Bellona excitedly. “The hollow moon superhero!”

  “Is it really you?” Ravana asked wonderingly, momentarily distracted from the pain of her throbbing cheek. “My guardian angel?”

  The masked figure turned to Ravana and bowed theatrically. “The Flying Fox, once again at your service,” he confirmed. “Are you hurt?”

  “Angry and sore,” Ravana told him, shooting a glare towards the cowering Maia.

  “Butt out of this, bat boy,” Xuthus snarled, squaring up to the newcomer. He had quickly seen that dramatic entrance aside, The Flying Fox was no more than a scrawny youth in a padded birdsuit and a good ten centimetres shorter than himself. “This isn’t a holovid game. Someone could get seriously hurt.”

  “Aha!” declared the birdman. “Do I detect the smell of fear? Or is it the hideous odour of the Eden Ravines’ very own greater-spotted voluminous tree-skunk!?”

  With a dramatic flourish, The Flying Fox extended his left wrist towards Xuthus and with his other hand pressed a button on his oversized wristpad. A jet of choking green mist erupted from the wristpad, enveloping Xuthus in the most foul-smelling, vomit-inducing odour Ravana had ever had the misfortune to let near her nostrils. As the scent hit the crouching Maia and Lodus, they gave yelps of dismay and leapt away into the crowd. Xuthus grimaced, tears streaming from his eyes, yet incredibly held his ground for several moments more before running after his friends and out of sight. The masked birdman gave a nod and folded his arms in satisfaction, seemingly unconcerned that his audience now included a growing congregatio
n of bemused shoppers.

  “My work here is done,” he declared.

  Ravana beamed and slipped her hands around The Flying Fox’s arm. “You are my hero!” she cried. “Thanks for scaring them off. It must make a change from rescuing cats.”

  The Flying Fox bowed again and with poignant grace took Ravana’s hand, raised it to his masked face and bestowed a gentle kiss. Releasing her, he stepped back, unfolded his wings to maximum stretch and then with a sudden spurt of power from the suit’s jet pack was up and away through the leafy canopy. The gathered crowd soon lost interest and melted away, leaving Ravana, Endymion, Bellona and Philyra alone and somewhat nonplussed.

  “Don’t look at me like that!” retorted Ravana, feeling the weight of the stares the other three were giving her. “I didn’t ask him to follow me here!”

  *

  Ostara peered around the corner of the corridor and watched as the Chinese woman ahead unlocked a door and entered a suite, clipboard in hand. Fenris’ mention of Dana during his conversation with Taranis left her intrigued. Eager to pursue her investigations, she had forsaken her bath to instead try to learn something about the Que Qiao agent, reassured both by the knowledge that Fenris was safely asleep in his room and by The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes on her wristpad. So far all her detective work had revealed was that the woman liked going in and out of every hotel room she could find.

  “Checking surveillance equipment?” Ostara murmured, her mind working overtime. “Or looking for secret papers left behind by delegates?”

  Moments later the woman reappeared in the corridor, still too far away for Ostara to get a good look at her, then walked to the next door and again disappeared inside. Ostara was momentarily startled by the arrival of a laundry-collection robot, then on a whim quickly dropped to her hands and knees and crawled in its wake, using the square bulk of the automaton as cover as it moved down the corridor. When she reached what she thought was the right room, she paused and put an ear to the closed door, still crouched upon the floor.