The transport shuddered over the top of a ridge and the ground fell away into a void. Ravana screamed, hit the brakes a split second too late and then stared in horror as their vehicle tilted with an agonising slowness over the edge, swinging headlamp beams down into the black shadows of an impact crater. Artorius shrieked, fell from his seat and was promptly pummelled by the greys skidding down the sloping floor to land on top of him. An ominous creaking grew more insistent as the rear wheels lifted from the ground, pulled by the weight of the nose of the transport hanging over the edge of the crater.
“Fwack!”
“We’re going over!” yelled Ravana.
The transport gave an almighty groan and slowly slid down the slope. Rock clawed into the belly of the hull, bringing forth a dreadful grating that mingled with their screams. Moments later, the vehicle crunched into the crater floor and everything went dark.
The base of the rocky pit loomed large through the windscreen. The emergency lights came on, flooding the cabin with a dim red glow. Ravana released a sigh of relief and relaxed her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Near her feet she heard a groan.
“The crater wasn’t that deep,” she murmured in relief. “Is everyone okay?”
“Stripy fell on my head,” complained Artorius. “Where are we?”
“Stuck in a hole,” she told him. “It could be worse.”
A sudden beeping noise filled the cabin, one that immediately raised the hairs on the back of her neck. The sound did not come from the blank lifeless screens of the console. Ravana heaved herself from her seat and clambered up the sloping floor of the passenger compartment, trying to find the source of the noise. It did not take her long.
“My mistake,” she said gloomily, as she peered at a control panel next to the airlock. “It is worse. Life support has failed. I think my detour just killed everyone aboard.”
“What?!” shrieked Artorius. “I don’t want to die!”
“Thraak!”
“Fwack fwack!”
“Quick! Search the lockers,” she urged. “There has to be emergency oxygen masks somewhere. I’m going to call for help.”
“Call who?” cried Artorius. He had gone as white as a sheet.
“Who do you think?”
Ravana dropped back into the driver’s seat and tried to switch on the communicator, but the console was completely dead. Undeterred, she activated her headcom and switched off the privacy settings to send an unrestricted public call to all within range. In the cabin behind, Artorius and the greys were frantically emptying every locker they could find and a constant stream of ration packets slid down the floor.
“Mayday, mayday!” cried Ravana. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Artorius jump as his own implant picked up her broadcast. “Can anyone hear me? This is an emergency!”
There was no reply. Yet she was sure she heard something faint in the background, as if someone was listening and debating whether to remain silent or not.
“Hello?” she called. “Is there anybody out there?”
“There’s no masks!” wailed Artorius. His voice shrilled with panic.
Ravana felt disorientated, her pulse raced and she had a blinding headache. With a sinking heart, she realised the transport’s hull had been breached. The cabin pressure was dropping fast, allowing Falsafah’s poisonous air to seep in from outside.
“Help!” she cried again. “We’re running out of air! We need help now!”
There was a pause, then a woman’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“I’m so sorry,” the voice said sadly. “It is not my place to intervene.”
“What!?” exclaimed Ravana. “Mayday! Help, please!”
She heard no more. It took all her remaining strength to climb to where Artorius and the greys were huddled near the airlock door. In the dim light she could see Artorius’ flushed skin. Nana fumbled near the airlock controls, while Stripy lay still.
“Forgive me,” Ravana whispered. The voice in her head was forgotten as she pulled Artorius close. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
She fell to the floor beside him, each convulsing breath more shallow than the last. Finally, there was nothing more to do than close her tear-soaked eyes.
Chapter Five
No news is bad news
FELICITY FORNAX, the latest young and fiercely-ambitious recruit to the Weird Universe team of roving reporters, sat on the edge of her hotel room bed and scowled at the flickering images on the holovid unit in the corner of the room. The British Broadcasting Corporation’s Five Systems News was reporting on the archaeological dig from its studios on Aram, which despite being on the other side of the star system from Falsafah was still a lot closer to the action than most other news crews had managed to get. Weird Universe, the quirky arts and entertainment news programme, was a show with big ideas but an embarrassingly-small budget. Hence Fornax was here, in a tatty suite on the third floor of the laughingly-named Paradise Hotel in Newbrum, tasked with putting together a piece on the Bradbury Heights University archaeology department, instead of at some well-appointed campsite in the Arallu Wastes reporting on the excavation itself.
The University however was being strangely tight-lipped. Meanwhile, the Dhusarian Church had released a baffling statement protesting heavily against the sacrilegious looting of holy relics, with a warning that activists would do their best to sabotage the expedition. Yet there was another story, one of secret flights from Falsafah to Ascension and of alien artefacts on the local black market. Fornax would much rather be in the Tau Ceti system, reporting on possibly the biggest story of all time, but if she could not be there then she would take whatever scoop came her way. The discovery that her enhanced-reality network visor did not work in Newbrum just meant that her research would have to be done the old-fashioned way.
Feeling hungry, Fornax pulled her dressing gown tighter and pushed a length of black hair out of her eyes. She had a bottle of wine cooling in the sink and was just contemplating ordering room service when there was a quiet knock at her door.
“Who is it?” she called. She was not expecting guests.
“My name is Philyra,” came the muffled voice of a teenage girl. “Can I talk to you?”
“Apparently so,” Fornax murmured, getting up from the bed.
The room was so small it was only two steps to the door. A peep through the spy hole revealed the skinny and pallid features of a dark-haired girl, dressed in a cheap summer frock of metallic blue. Her visitor looked harmless enough and Fornax opened the door.
“Hi!” said Philyra. The girl gave a bright smile. “Miss Fornax? Could I interview you for our school magazine? We don’t often get holovid stars in town.”
“A holovid star?” Fornax smiled. Newbrum was more of a backwater than she thought if they bestowed celebrity status upon someone like her, an ex-presenter of Cosmic Cooking and reporter for the equally obscure Weird Universe. Now she saw her visitor properly she was struck by how much the girl reminded her of a younger version of herself. With a sweep of her hand she invited Philyra inside. “Fine by me, kid. Make yourself at home.”
Philyra entered the room and hesitantly looked for somewhere to sit. Fornax reached for a panel by the door and pressed the control to convert the bed into seating. The bed began to retract upon itself, gave an almighty groan and shuddered to a halt. Philyra looked at her, shrugged and gave the bed a good solid kick with her boot. The bed lurched into motion again and collapsed into the reassuring shape of a sofa.