Space Hostages by Sophia McDougall

Author:Sophia McDougall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-12-11T05:00:00+00:00

13

“I know you’ve always wanted to do Space Archaeology, Jo,” Carl said. “But, maybe like sometime when we’re not being slowly poisoned?”

High above the worrying depths of the gorge, Josephine was crouched on the peak of a stone arch, scraping enthusiastically at the red coils of root that entangled it. “They’ve got wings!” she said. “They’ve got wings! They don’t need streets. Look at these struts. They’re as comfortable hanging upside down as standing upright!”

“You’ll bring that whole thing down,” I moaned, though it wasn’t the first time I’d said something along those lines and she hadn’t listened.

“But this is useful!” she said.

“I don’t see anything here’s going to fly us home,” Carl said, sitting in a coil of root and swinging his legs, while a troop of little scarlet-and-tangerine things swooped down from the clifftops and perched irreverently on the statue’s head, chittering.

The city was in ruins. Golden moss grew from the cracks between blocks of stone, and overflowed into foamy hanging masses. The towers bristled arms like candelabras—many of them were smashed. The arches were broken backed—whatever had dangled from those broad struts had long since fallen away. It was all sinking into the forest as if the land had dreamed the city and was gradually forgetting it. There was nobody here.

“But if we know something about the people before we meet them . . . ,” Josephine said. “Don’t you realize humans have never had that before, with an alien species? The Morrors, the Krakkiluks—they both turned up knowing our languages, knowing who we are—and we didn’t know anything. And that’s gone badly for us. But this time the balance of information will be in our favor. We’ll be less helpless.” She peered down at the stonework she’d cleared. “There’s writing here,” she said happily. “Goldfish, can you scan this?”

“Oh, good, let’s Google the translation,” said Carl.

“Well, when we meet them—” began Josephine.

“Maybe they’re all dead,” Carl said. “Maybe the Krakkiluks exterminated them.”

“Carl,” I said, starting to get a bit exasperated.

He shrugged. “I’m just saying. These fruit-bat guys aren’t here, are they?”

I looked around nervously, in case a lot of annoyed fruit-bat people emerged from the undergrowth.

“The Krakkiluks could have killed everyone on Aushalawa-Moraaa and taken it back that way, but they didn’t,” said Josephine. “I don’t think mass extermination is how they operate.”

“What they did do was pretty bad,” called Carl, as Josephine scampered recklessly over the arch to the far side of the gorge.

“I’m not defending them!” she yelled back.

“You’ve got to stop running around and breathing,” I moaned.

But Josephine had found what looked at first like a length of root, stretching out along one of the struts. Inside, it was bristling with wires—wires so corroded and rusted they were scarcely recognizable.

“This is copper. Like we used to use on Earth. Electricity cables,” said Josephine, delighted now. “They weren’t just . . . stonecutters, they were . . . advanced. Light, and computing, probably—they might have had space travel already.”

“Time didn’t do this,” Josephine said, looking at the broken masonry.

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