Hollow Moon

by Steph Bennion

  Miss Clymene put a finger to her lips. “Hush!”

  Philyra stared forlornly at Ravana’s cornet and Zotz’s theremin, which they had placed upon the two empty seats in a moment of wishful thinking. Hearing a muted snigger, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Xuthus, Lodus and Maia standing in the doorway of the backstage dressing room, pointing at the Newbrum band and giggling. She was just about to respond with a suitable hand gesture when Endymion’s wristpad beeped.

  “A message?” asked Miss Clymene hopefully.

  Endymion looked at his wristpad and nodded. “They’re here!”

  As one, four pairs of eyes turned expectantly towards the backstage door.

  *

  On stage, the headline debate of the conference floundered. Kartikeya was struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Jaggarneth’s flamboyant yet distracting rhetorical onslaught.

  “I have not come to this gathering to kill the thunderworm that lays the golden egg,” Jaggarneth was saying. “We all know the fear of bad government can seem like too many molecularisors frying the dessert. The Que Qiao Corporation will of course consider all proposals for a preliminary cooperative arrangement to examine the options for the strategic delivery of a democratic extra-dimensional flight path to peace.”

  Kartikeya blinked. “Does that mean you are open to negotiations?”

  “I am not about to topple our rockets and reject the bible black of infinity,” the governor replied, smiling graciously. “Nor am I here to put the cat amongst the blood yerks. It is not wise to put all our isotopes in one reactor. The procurement of effective government is not something that can be forced through a quantum gate, as I’m sure you will agree.”

  Despite not understanding a word Jaggarneth was saying, Kartikeya found himself nodding. Just as he was starting to lose the will to live, the voice in his ear crackled again.

  “The Raja is here!” Yaksha exclaimed. “I don’t know how, but he is!”

  Kartikeya gave an involuntary twitch as a surge of adrenaline invigorated his shattered will, then quickly looked to his left. Against all hope, he saw Surya and the girl Ravana standing next to Yaksha, busily clipping microphones to their collars. The old woman herself, smiling from ear to ear, gave the commander the thumbs up. A further glance at Jaggarneth revealed he too was aware of their arrival. With a relieved grin, Commander Kartikeya gripped the edges of the rostrum and contemplated the speech before him.

  “Back to Plan A,” he murmured.

  His fingers strayed to the remote control unit inside his sleeve. Now all he could think about was the hidden mind-probe device, waiting to be activated.

  *

  Away in the wings, Ravana felt Raja Surya reach out and take her hand in his own, both steeling themselves for the big moment. He had sent a message to his mother during the flight to Daode and she wondered if the Maharani would be watching the broadcast.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Surya asked.

  Ravana nodded nervously and tried to recall why on Yuanshi she had agreed to the plan put to her by Surya over a hurried meal aboard the Platypus. On the opposite side of the stage stood Ostara and her father, both looking much happier than she had seen in ages.

  “My little girl has all grown up,” she heard him say proudly to Ostara. Her father had become quite sentimental, remarking earlier that the sight of Ravana in the maroon and gold outfit Ganesa found for her reminded him of his dearly-departed wife more than ever.

  Backstage, Zotz and a flirtatious Philyra were whispering urgently to Xuthus and pointing to something in the dressing room behind. Their band mates looked on in a hushed state of excitement. On stage, the holovid presenter turned to address the two speakers.

  “Regrettably, we are nearing the end of our time slot,” she said. “The debate will continue following the final performances in the five-systems youth music competition, but for now would you care to make your closing statements?”

  Governor Jaggarneth opened his mouth to speak, but Kartikeya was quicker.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the commander began, facing the audience. “I am grateful Governor Atman felt it right that I should be here tonight to represent the dispossessed of Yuanshi. The road to this peace conference has been far from smooth, for this is a war driven by corporate greed, one which has seen not only the loss of our right to govern ourselves but also the alienation of the followers of Taranis and the Dhusarian Church.”

  “A dangerous cult which sanctions acts of terror against innocent citizens!” retorted Jaggarneth, surprising everyone with a sentence both clear and concise. “I put it to my fellow delegates that the commander is being disingenuous to the extreme.”

  “Neither of you truly represent the people of Yuanshi!” Surya suddenly declared.

  All eyes were upon the Raja as he emerged from the wings and walked to the centre of the stage. There he paused, savouring the ripple of excited murmurs from the audience as they recognised him as the Maharaja’s exiled heir, the subject of so many recent rumours.

  “My father was the last to be so honoured and wanted only for Yuanshi to be united.” His schooling had prepared him for this moment and he sounded every bit the Maharaja’s son. “I am here tonight of my own violation, but this was not how it was supposed to be.”

  As he spoke, Ravana walked onto the stage to join him, her heart in her mouth. With what she hoped was a dramatic flourish, she pointed a finger at Commander Kartikeya.

  “This man arranged for the Raja to be kidnapped and brought here to be used as a puppet figurehead for his rebellion!” she cried. Seeing Governor Jaggarneth smirk, Ravana whirled around and pointed instead at him. “And this man allowed it to happen! Both of these so-called leaders were happy to use Surya as a pawn in their games. Neither is worthy to provide the leadership Yuanshi so desperately needs.”

  “What is this nonsense?” retorted Jaggarneth. “Must we put up with this slander?”

  “The young Raja is weary from his travels and is confused,” said Kartikeya.

  Ravana saw him pressing a thumb against something in his hand, his scowl deepening by the second. Up in the control room, unseen by all, the mind probe gurgled and died as it succumbed to the half litre of wine Endymion had earlier poured into its data rod slot after liberating a bottle from Miss Clymene’s room. Kartikeya threw down the remote in disgust and glared at Ravana and Surya. Jaggarneth was not so easily rattled.

  “Perhaps some introductions are in order,” the governor suggested. “Irregular though this interruption is, we should make an effort to swing our satellites around the same star.”

  “We embody the two original colonies of Yuanshi,” said Surya. “I am Raja Surya of Ayodhya. My father was assassinated by special agents of the Que Qiao Corporation.”

  “I am Ravana O’Brien of Lanka,” said Ravana, trying her best not to forget her hastily-concocted speech. “My mother was killed at Aranya Pass in an attack led by Commander Kartikeya himself. We have both lived in exile for many years, but having now again seen Ayodhya and Lanka, the heart and soul of Yuanshi, we are saddened to find that our home world still lacks a brain! I see no sign of it in either of you, nor in the minds of the Dhusarian Church. I come from a community where everyone is accountable for their actions. This is something I have not seen here in the shadow of Shennong.”

  “You come from a forgotten colony ship, near a planet no one cares about, orbiting a star too dim to see!” retorted Kartikeya. “You do not know the mind of Yuanshi!”

  “The fact remains that neither the Maharaja nor the Governor was elected to office,” said the holovid presenter, who had listened to Ravana and Surya with interest. “Do you not think that the government of Yuanshi should be answerable to its citizens?”

  “Yuanshi is a business operation!” snapped Jaggarneth. “No more, no less!”

  “It is home to half a million people,” Surya replied. “Something you seem to forget.”

  “You’ve changed.” Karti
keya sounded disappointed. “A few days ago you were eager to seize your place as your father’s heir. This was to have been our hour! Lanka and the Dhusarian Church together to fight for what we believe is right! This war will not be ended by idle talk. What made you turn your back on all this?”

  “The lies,” said Surya. “The scheming. Your refusal to help Ravana in her hour of need. But most of all, I can’t believe you thought it was right to ban song and dance!”

  “What?” exclaimed Kartikeya. “That was the reason?”

  “I was going crazy in Kubera not being able to listen to music or play my violin!”

  Jaggarneth smiled. “Dhusarians do have some very odd ideas.”

  “There are good reasons why Taranis made that ruling…” Kartikeya began.

  “This is not the time for a debate on religion,” the presenter hastily interrupted. “We are almost out of time. Raja Surya, Ravana; your appearance here tonight is unexpected but not, dare I say it, unwelcome. Do you have any last words for your audience?”

  Ravana glanced to the side of the stage and saw Zotz awaiting her signal. Next to him was a boy she recognised from the floating market. She gave Zotz a nod and as quick as a flash he disappeared behind the curtain to join the rest of the band.

  “I came to Daode as a player in a school band, hoping to do my bit for peace,” said Ravana. Right on cue, the plaintive wail of a home-made quadraphonic autoharp theremin drifted out of the hall’s public address system. She felt a shiver run down her back. “Music is all things to all people and comes directly from the soul. I hope that being here with others from across the five systems, we can show how we can come together as one.”

  The high, wavering flutter of a flute joined the theremin. The presenter, seizing the opportunity to bring the debate to a poignant close, signalled to her backstage colleagues to open the main curtains. As the apprehensive players of Newbrum were revealed to the eyes of the worlds, a nervous Xuthus stepped onto the stage and approached Surya and Ravana, his violin in his hands. Zotz was concentrating upon his theremin but found time for a quick grin.

  “Raja Surya,” said Xuthus. Somewhat awestruck, he looked ready to curtsey as he presented his violin and bow. “Would you care to join the performance?”

  “I would be delighted!” Surya exclaimed. He took the offered instrument.

  “I’ll need it back afterwards,” Xuthus whispered hurriedly.

  The Raja put the violin to his shoulder and played a quick double-stopped riff as a counterpoint to Zotz’s and Philyra’s ambient improvisation, then gave a broad grin. Yaksha and her opposite number were busy trying to preserve Kartikeya’s and Jaggarneth’s dignity by getting them off stage as gracefully as possible, for both leaders looked increasingly disgruntled at the way the debate had slipped out of their hands. Backstage, someone hurriedly brought an extra chair for the new member of the band.

  “No more talking!” Surya declared. “It’s time for some music!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the presenter. “The Newbrum Academy band!”

  Miss Clymene, standing with baton raised as Ravana and Surya took their seats, was trying to maintain a professional composure but looked like the cat that got the cream. Zotz and Philyra brought their improvisation around to the opening bars of Bantoff’s Shennong, thus enabling Bellona and Endymion to finally work out what was going on and join in. Ravana picked up her cornet and smiled across to Surya, who was scrutinising the music on Endymion’s stand, then looked to where her father, Ostara and Yaksha were watching from the wings and waving. Everything in the world suddenly seemed right.

  “Ready?” whispered Miss Clymene. “Let’s show them what we can do!”

  *

  The rest of the evening was a blur. Later, Ravana recalled little of all that followed the euphoria and rapturous applause at the end of their performance, other than the endless hugs from her father, the emotional backstage reunion with Yaksha and the excitement of the band when the winners of the music competition were finally announced. Celebrations were short; Yaksha advised the crew of the Platypus to leave Daode as soon as they could, for she had overheard some disturbing exchanges between Kartikeya and Jaggarneth. By the time the peace conference officially drew to a close, they were rocketing away from Hemakuta and ignoring all calls from Taotie space-traffic control to await security clearance. A few hours and one gut-wrenching extra-dimensional jump later, the Platypus was back in the Barnard’s Star system and a mere ten million kilometres from home.

  Quirinus and Ostara had the flight deck to themselves, leaving the Newbrum band to continue their celebrations in the confines of the spinning carousel. Ravana’s cat had gone to sleep inside a cupboard aboard the ship whilst the crew were at the conference, but was now out of hiding and sitting contentedly upon Ravana’s lap. Miss Clymene was captivated by the tiny gold cup in her hands. She had not once let go of it since Governor Atman presented it to her and still could not believe all that had transpired.

  “We won,” she murmured, for what seemed the millionth time that night. “My little band is the best in the whole five systems!”

  Ravana, Bellona and Surya were looking at the screen of Philyra’s wristpad, watching a short holovid she had recorded earlier with Endymion’s help. It showed Philyra in the conference hall control room, acting the part of a newscaster as she related the story of the plot to brainwash the Raja and inflame the civil war. Surya was visibly perturbed when he saw the on-screen Philyra hold up the device Endymion had found in the crate. By now they had all swapped tales of what they had learned on Yuanshi and Daode and the Raja had been quite startled at the political machinations going on around him.

  “It’s a good report,” he said approvingly. “Do you plan to show it to anyone?”

  “We already have,” Philyra told him. “We used the hotel messaging service to send it to everyone on the Avalon broadcast team. It’s also been uploaded to the net. We filmed it when we went back to sabotage the device,” she added, feeling an explanation was due. She gave Bellona a smug look. “Still think it was a stupid idea?”

  “It’s fantastic!” said Ravana. “This is the sort of rebellion I like!”

  “One thing still puzzles me,” mused Endymion. “In films the bad guy always has a motive but I can’t see what Fenris had to gain from all this.”

  “Fenris was just the stooge,” Zotz declared. “The real bad guy is Taranis!”

  “Taranis?” asked Bellona. “Who is he?”

  “The leader of the Dhusarian Church,” said Surya. “Yaksha called him a mad priest and said he was the one who banned music and dancing in Lanka.”

  “Hanuman told us he was also interested in aliens and cloning,” added Ravana.

  “This Taranis sounds a right bundle of laughs,” muttered Miss Clymene, still staring at the gold cup in her hands. “I’m glad you left him behind on Yuanshi.”

  “That’s the odd thing,” Endymion remarked. “Back at the hotel, when we hacked into the holovid between Taranis and Fenris, the call came via the Ascension servermoon.”

  “There’s a mad priest loose back home?” asked Philyra. “Are you on egg?”

  “You’d have to be on egg to mix with Dhusarians,” Endymion retorted.

  Ravana smiled at the memory of the giant grey eggs they had seen at the plantation.

  “Did you know egg is literally just that?” she remarked, inadvertently changing the subject. “Alien eggs laid by giant, genetically-engineered thunderworms?”

  Both Philyra and Bellona looked disgusted at the idea. Endymion just shrugged.

  “Ravana helped us break into a top-secret laboratory,” Zotz said proudly. “Her implant is a special-forces one that can open any door she likes!”

  “Wow,” murmured Endymion, impressed.

  Feeling all eyes suddenly upon her, Ravana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Yet Zotz’s mention of her implant reminded her of something that had been bothering her and reaching behind, she pressed a
button on the carousel’s computer terminal.

  “Ship?” she called. “Do you respond to cranium implant commands?”

  “That function has been disabled,” the smooth voice replied.

  “Can you enable it?”

  “That command is restricted to Captain Quirinus only.”

  “Is that so?” muttered Ravana. She rose from her seat and stepped lightly towards the ladder leading to the carousel exit hatch. “I think I need to have a word with my father.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Surya. “I’d like to use the ship’s transmitter to call home.”

  “Tell your mother we won,” said Miss Clymene, holding up the cup. “We won!”

  *

  On the flight deck, it was immediately apparent that Quirinus and Ostara had more pressing concerns. Professor Wak was talking to the Platypus on the console holovid screen and had very little good news to impart.

  “The problem with the fusion reactor is critical!” Wak was saying. “We’ve been unable to locate the power drain and it’s worse than ever! The fuel-cell reserves are gone, life support is about to shut down and everyone else left some time ago aboard the Indra, leaving just me here trying to do what I can. And I mean everyone. It’s not looking good, Quirinus. My advice is to make planet-fall at Newbrum or Lan-Tlanto.”

  “We’re on the wrong trajectory for Ascension,” Quirinus told him. “Besides, that would leave you stranded!”

  “The ship from Newbrum coming to collect your passengers is thankfully now also bringing an emergency crew,” replied Wak. “I’ve also picked up another spacecraft behind you on visual, but whoever’s aboard is not responding to transmissions.”

  “There’s a ship behind us?” Quirinus sounded surprised. “There’s nothing on radar.”

  Ostara caught his glance and responded with a shrug. Seeing Ravana drift towards her with a purposeful look in her eye, Ostara vacated the co-pilot’s seat and watched as Ravana buckled herself in and proceeded to run her fingers over the scanner console.

  “I repeat, you are advised to divert to Ascension,” said Wak. “I’ll be fine.”