“Just a holovid programme! How can you say that?” she retorted. “I’m going to miss the vote on Sonja versus the Dethridge Demons!”
“How can you watch holovids on such a small screen?” asked Bellona. Her lack of enthusiasm for the media capabilities of a wristpad was partly due to a childhood ear infection, which had left her unable to have the cochlear implant necessary to listen to broadcasts without plugging in earphones. She found the amount of time Philyra spent glued to her wristpad somewhat disturbing.
“I’m sure a few hours without net access won’t kill us,” Miss Clymene said brightly, standing up. “We could all do with an early night. Can I trust you all to get some sleep and not to go wandering off into the jungle?”
Bellona looked fearfully into the trees. “Are we safe here?”
“As long as you leave the strange vegetation alone,” Miss Clymene confirmed.
“And the alien plants leave us alone,” added Endymion.
Philyra gulped. Miss Clymene gave him a withering look, then disappeared inside the inflatable dome and out of sight. Bellona scowled at her brother, who promptly turned his back on her to instead absorb himself in something on his wristpad.
“What are you doing?” she asked at last. “I thought there was no signal down here.”
“Hacking into the scientists’ network.”
When he failed to elaborate, Philyra edged across and peered over his shoulder, then shrugged. Bellona waited a little longer before asking the obvious question.
“Why?”
“I want to see where that meteor landed.”
A hush descended once more upon their camp, until all they could hear was the tap-tapping of Endymion’s fingers upon his wristpad’s screen.
“Is he always this talkative?” Philyra asked Bellona.
“The life and soul of the party.”
Endymion appeared to have found what he sought. Standing up, he shuffled around in a circle, looking at his wristpad as he did so, then stopped.
“That way,” he declared, pointing into the jungle. “Coming?”
“Yeah, why not,” said Philyra, climbing to her feet. “I’m bored,” she explained, seeing Bellona’s look of surprise. “And not in the least bit tired.”
“It’s not far,” Endymion told Bellona. “I got the coordinates and a map of the Ravines from the scientists’ database. It can’t be more than a kilometre away.”
The prospect of a mini adventure did not appeal to Bellona at all, but the thought of being left behind at the camp with no one but Miss Clymene for company was possibly worse, particularly now she could hear her teacher’s gentle snores drifting through the open door of the dome. Bellona reluctantly stood up and came to her brother’s side.
Endymion picked up his radiation cloak and grinned. “Follow me!”
Following the map on his wristpad, he led them away from the camp and towards the edge of the jungle surrounding the research station. Philyra fell in step behind him, leaving Bellona to bring up the rear. Although the sun remained high, once they slipped beneath the cool leafy canopy it became too dark to see more than a few steps ahead and Endymion soon had to rely on the tiny display on his wristpad for directions. The black and purple foliage grew more dense and chaotic the further they walked and before long they had to force their way through the twisted undergrowth to make progress.
Faint slithering sounds and the distant screeches of unseen creatures kept their nerves jangling. Bellona screamed as a huge black insect, at least a metre long and looking like a cross between a centipede and a scorpion, suddenly shot across her path just centimetres from her foot. She had already decided that Philyra was acting far too serenely for someone scared stiff of the Terran spiders that had taken up residence in Newbrum’s dome. Endymion himself appeared oblivious to everything apart from the image on his wristpad.
“This is stupid,” mumbled Bellona.
For what seemed the millionth time, she untangled her hair from a spiny purple stem she was sure had been chasing her through the overhanging foliage. Her companions did not appear to be having any problems negotiating the undergrowth and she was convinced the jungle was singling her out for attention. It did not help that she only had one free hand, for the other clung to her radiation cloak as if her life depended upon it. Philyra wore hers with an air of casual confidence that made the baggy lead-lined cape look like the height of fashion.
Ahead, Endymion had stopped. “This is it,” he whispered. “Look!”
They had reached the edge of another clearing. Philyra and Bellona peered over his shoulder to where he pointed, expecting to see a small crater with a smouldering meteor at its centre. What they actually saw was nothing of the sort.
“It’s a spaceship,” murmured Bellona, surprised. “What’s it doing here?”
Endymion stepped out of the jungle and slowly approached the spacecraft. It was a lunar-class exploration vessel, consisting of a large spherical hull standing upon four landing struts with a single booster engine at its base. The lower half of the hull was an open frame that held a cylindrical-shaped object on one side of the engine and a heavy-duty winch on the other. One of the slanting struts had a ladder attached, above which an open hatch in the side of the hull offered a tantalising glimpse of the spacecraft’s interior.
“The Nellie Chapman,” remarked Philyra, reading the legend on the side of the hull.
“It’s an asteroid mining ship,” Endymion told her. “You can see the Astromole drilling machine in the cradle underneath.”
“I didn’t know people were mining in the Ravines,” remarked Bellona.
“They’re not,” replied Endymion. “Or at least they’re not supposed to be. It’s protected territory. You’re not even allowed to fly in the area.”
“So what’s it doing here?” asked Philyra.
“No idea,” Endymion murmured. Bellona saw his eyes were upon the gaping hatchway. “Do you think there’s anyone inside?”
He started to walk across the charred ground towards the bottom of the ladder. Bellona ran after him and put a hand to his arm.
“Wait! Are you sure it’s safe?”
“No,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’m only going to look.”
“Be careful not to press any buttons,” Philyra called out. “You might fly off!”
“Don’t give him ideas,” muttered Bellona.
Endymion reached the bottom of the ladder and began to climb. The hatch was at least five metres up but before long he was peering cautiously through the opening, looking for any signs of life. The entrance airlock and the cabin beyond appeared to be deserted. He turned and gave Philyra and his sister a brief wave, then clambered inside.
He had never been in a mining ship before and was surprised at the sparse flight deck. Everything looked extremely solid and built to last, with the only concession to comfort being the padded cushions upon the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats. The Nellie Chapman was designed for the rough-and-tumble of prospecting on rocky worlds and to survive the odd crash landing. It was not the ship of choice for a long cruise around the star system.
The flight computer had a heavy-duty keyboard with oversized keys for use by someone wearing a spacesuit. Endymion found the power switch and watched the display screen glow into life, then jumped at the sound of an unexpected loud click from under the console. He was curious as to why the mining ship was in the Eden Ravines and it only took him a moment to call up the navigation system and download the flight log to his wristpad. It was then he spied a small foil-wrapped carton lying on top of the console and recognising it for what it was, hungrily picked it up and stuffed it into a pocket.