Dreamers of Delphi--Chapter 6

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 "I understand your fear, human, but you must simply trust me. My weapon is quite capable of sending you to meet your Gods should I desire it - which, as I repeat, I do not. It is called a Staser, and I assure that there is nothing like it, divine or otherwise, anywhere in Greece, or indeed -"

 Dolon froze as he felt something press into the back of his neck.

 "Advise that you have been misinformed." rasped an electronic voice in his ear.

 Chapter 6: Delphi Primer by Will Howells

 As the sun outside began to dip below the westerly horizon, two figures stood inside a large stone temple. The building was fairly non-descript save for the offerings - of fruit, vegetables, precious stones, and meat - that the god's worshippers had laid before the altar.

 The taller of the two Greeks, an elderly man named Antonus, approached the altar and added a basket of apples to the sea of gifts.

 "Praise be to Apollo," he quietly intoned. He took a step backwards, knelt on the smooth stone floor, and addressed the building.

 "Great Oracle," he called, "I seek an answer." There was silence. Antonus looked back at the other figure, a rotund woman in her early twenties, who shook her head resignedly. But, as he began to get to his feet, a soft voice, coming from no discernible direction, filled the temple.

 "What is your question?"

 Relieved and in awe, the man temporarily forgot to reply. "It concerns my daughter, most worshipful Oracle." He indicated the woman who stood behind him. "She is set to give birth to my first grandchild. I wish to know whether to expect a successor to my estate."

 "You wish to know the gender of her child," the Oracle stated. "Pray a while and I shall give you your answer."

 The woman joined her father on her knees, their heads bowed together in worship of the mighty god Apollo and his Oracle.

 

Turlough returned his pistol to its holster and glanced at the immobile form of the globular Protean, its blue-tinted plasmidermis bubbling slightly. He turned away and addressed his troops.

 "Take 'Rubenstein' to the ship and put her in the holding cells." He crossed the floor to the cubicle in which he'd last seen the real Zoe. "I'm going to see if I can't get this thing to work one more time."

 "Then you'll need my help," the Seren told him with a smug whiff of cinnamon.

 "You know, One of Many, I don't think I will," he replied with a charming smile. "My order stands: take her to the ship!"

 A group of Trion soldiers led the protesting creature away and Turlough began to examine the electronics connected to the cubicle. None of them noticed the small stream of bluish liquid that trickled across the floor and out of the room.

 

A shrill buzzing filled the air. Olec and Vicki both instinctively clasped their hands over their respective ears, but the sound was far too intense. Vicki first, and then Olec, lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.

 The noise stopped abruptly. A hatch opened in the side of the Trion ship and somebody stepped onto the sand.

 

Romana awoke to find herself chained to a humming wall. Zoe was on her left, Troilus and Dolon to her right; all were sleeping. The circular room they were in appeared to be the control centre for a craft of some kind: the ceiling was of domed metal and the walls were lined with computers (in some of which Romana was sure she could see components that resembled valves rather than transistors). Opposite the captives, but obscured by what the Time Lady presumed was the captain's chair, was a large, elliptical screen.

 "Where are we?" a groggy male voice asked. Dolon had come out of his slumber.

 "I don't know," Romana replied, "but I'm sure we can find out." She raised her voice. "Excuse me, is anybody there?"

 The chair spun round. "Here," its occupant said. "Inform that you are prisoners."

 "A Vegan?" Dolon frowned. "Since when were they in contact with Sol Three?"

 "I don't think," Romana said thoughtfully, "he's here on a diplomatic mission."

 "Confirm you are correct." Something caught 462ahw's attention and he used his lower limbs to push himself quickly out of the chair and moved aside.

 "Express happiness at Demck's return," he said as the large, aquatic mammal settled into the command chair. "Was maintaining seat warmth for you."

 Demck snorted and raised a paw to scratch his right tusk. "There is no sign of Olec and the human, or any of our equipment. Just very scorched sand."

 *The human?* Romana thought. *That's probably the Cressida woman that Zoe mentioned.*

 "Theorize that..." 462ahw began to clap his limbs together in consternation. "That Olec and the captive have been annihilated by perpetrators unknown."

 *So,* Romana thought solemnly, *the Trion rebels found them.* She glanced across at the motionless Troilus. She didn't look forward to telling him his wife was dead.

 

"That girl's beginning to worry me, Nohara."

 "Which girl?"

 Bromley spun round in surprise. "Zoe! I was worried."

 "I'm sorry, Major. I was going to call in sick, but I'm feeling much better now." She took up her post. "How far is there left to go for Probe Seven?"

 The Major checked the time on her wrist-computer. "We enter Phase Z in three hours."

 The Zoe-Protean was pleased. *Phase Z. And then...bang.*

 

Vicki was exhausted. She had passed out after an hour on interrogation and came to in the brig of the Trion frigate. The humanoids refused to accept that she'd just stumbled on the "enemy Trion distress beacon" and that she was a native of Earth. They insisted that she was far more advanced than "the savages", that she was a survivor of some battle.... She had to admit, her use of commonspeak probably wasn't helping her case.

 "We must escape from here, and take the power core with us" a familiar, if not particularly welcome voice said.

 Vicki forced her eyes open. Standing by the cell door looking defiant (as if, with her medusoid features she could look passive) was Olec. The ship's crew had questioned Vicki about her too, but she knew as little about Olec as she did about Trion.

 "How?"

 The snakes in Olec's hair hissed. "I'm not as soft as I look."

 "Yes, but I thought you said you hadn't retrieved the power core yet."

 "We'll take theirs."

 

"On my mark, press the green switch."

 The soldier fidgeted, uneasy. "Are you sure this is wise, sir? You don't know what's going to happen."

 Turlough was sitting in the cubicle. His long legs protruded, holding the door open. "As far as I can tell, there's a semi-stable time corridor - perhaps natural - that the cubicle will tap into and send me back to find Zoe and Romana. I believe some of the modifications I've made will improve its reliability too." He felt quite pleased about them, though he doubted the military man would appreciate them.

 "Yeah, but you don't *really* know what's going to happen..."

 "Have faith." Turlough smiled. "Orders is orders." He tucked his legs into the cubicle and pulled the door shut.

 "Mark."

 The soldier reluctantly activated the contraption. Turlough felt a little queasy as he drifted off to sleep. Confident though he tried to be, the soldier wasn't the only person to be slightly doubtful.

 *Brave heart,* said a comforting voice in Turlough's mind as he vanished.

 

Demck listened attentively to his computer's report.

 "Scans are detecting increased charged particle emissions in the selected area."

 "Identify source," he barked.

 "Extrapolation suggests a Type 3 Trion frigate, circa the -"

 "Intire period," Romana piped up. "I could have told you all that."

 Demck growled. "How can this be? The Trion ship is wrecked. There are salvaged sections on this ship! It cannot be powered up."

 "Perhaps," said Romana, like a teacher endeavouring to explain to a slow pupil, "there is more than one Trion ship on this planet."

 462ahw's translator clicked in. "Recommend departure. Suggest transfer to Delphi immediately."

 "That's no use without the power core!"

 "Recommend -"

 "Shut up!" Demck reached out a fur-covered paw and disconnected 462ahw's translator. "I'm *trying* to think."

 

"Male," the Oracle suddenly announced. "Your daughter will have a son."

 Antonus, frail though he was, leapt to his feet in joy. "Thank you, most gracious Apollo, thank you!"

 The woman tugged at his hem. He saw her concerned expression and quickly followed her gaze.

 In the air above the altar, a ball of light was forming, colours spinning across its surface as it rapidly increased in size.

 "Great Oracle," he muttered, "I think I have one more question..."

 A shadow formed in the sphere. Then the light disappeared, leaving a figure suspended in the air above the altar. An instant later, the laws of physics noticed him and he tumbled painfully to the floor, his fall broken by a dozen fresh eggs and the decomposing head of a young goat.

 This, it seemed, the Oracle had not foreseen. "Antonus," it told the elderly Greek, "this creature defiles the temple of Apollo. Kill it now!"

 Antonus hesitated for a moment, looking questioningly to his daughter for advice.

 "Kill it!"

 He nodded reverently, reaching into his boot. "Yes, honoured Apollo."

 Turlough wiped the yolk from his eyes in time to see a tanned, wrinkled Greek with a long grey beard and an equally long dagger bearing down on him.

 TO BE (of course) CONTINUED...

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