Almost faster than the eye could follow, the howling feral
cat hurtled past the huddled group and plucked the rat out of mid-air. The two
bodies twisted over and over in the near zero gravity, biting and clawing at
each other, each trying to get the upper hand. The rat, nearly as large as the
cat, fought for its life, scratching and squealing until the cat finally sank
its teeth into its neck and crunched through to the bone. The two animals came
to a skidding halt somewhere in the darkness beyond the circle of light. Within
the circle stood a shaken group of pliants, queuing up to gain an audience with
the Prophet. Housewives, businessmen, professionals, they came from all walks
of life, from all over the Solar system having bribed the pirates with enormous
sums of money for a safe passage, hoping to get an answer to their questions.
“Dear Jesus, I didn’t pay for this! What kind of place
have they dumped us in?” asked a well-to-do looking gentleman. “And where have
the guards gone? Who’s going to look after us here?” It was in the guard’s
interest to escort their hosts safely back off the station; otherwise the
balance of their fee wouldn’t be paid.
“Guards wait you get back. Guards no go,” said an old,
holy-looking man in a dirty cotton robe. Five other such men stood in front of
the visitors holding up burning torches to light the way. These were the
renowned Getham priests, who served and looked after the Prophet. The Getham
themselves had no need of light because, not only did they know every inch of
that terrain, but they were also blind. For some strange reason, all the children
born in this dome were blind. No one knew the reason why. But it leant them an
air of mystery.
Everyone was waiting for some sign from the Getham. All
was still and silent except for the sound of the feral cat crunching at his
meal in the background. Then the lead priest approached the group and began to
go from one person to another, pausing in front of each person and touching
them briefly on the chest.
“You no go!” he said stopping in front of a well dressed
woman with a wedding ring.
“But why?” she protested. “My daughter’s missing. I’ve got
to know where she is.”
“You no daughter. You no go,” said the little priest. “You
reporter!”
“You’re crazy. How would you know?”
“You spy. No story. You no go. Leave please,” he insisted,
waiting patiently for her to move.
“This is crazy. You can’t refuse me. I have a legitimate
question,” she pleaded, only half convincing herself, and him not at all.
“You try before. You ask wrong question. Goodbye!” he said
and stepped back with folded arms to wait for her departure.
“Oh for god’s sake,” she protested indignantly. Her
newspaper had paid a king’s ransom to get her an audience with the Prophet, so
she was reluctant to give up too easily. “For god’s sake, what does it matter?
I paid my money didn’t I?”
“No matta. You go.”
“Come on lady. They’re not going to let you in. They don’t
have to. And you’re just making everyone else wait. Give us a break,” pleaded
one fat middle aged second-hand salesman type, probably there to ask if his
partner was cheating on him. That’s what most of them asked.
“All-bloody-right,” she flounced out of the group. “Know
what I think? He’s probably a fake and doesn’t want to be exposed.
That’s what I think.”
“Well we don’t care what you think. So bugger off,”
retorted one obnoxious lady with a peacock-feather in her cap.
The woman left with as much dignity as she could muster,
but looked more like a little schoolgirl who had got caught cheating and was
trying to brazen it out. One of the priests escorted her the few hundred yards
to the entrance gate and let her out. The other priest then continued his
assessment of the group.
Officer Angelo, not for the first time, had some doubts
about the success of his mission. If the priest could sniff out a reporter,
surely they’d smell a rat with him? Everyone shuffled uncomfortably,
rearranging the various packages they were holding. These were mainly food
offerings for the oracle. That’s how the Getham survived. They never saw a
penny of the money that people paid to see the prophet. That all went to the
pirates. Water there was aplenty, but food was in short supply here.
There
were four Terra Domes on the inside of the G.O.D. 4 space-station wheel, all
facing inwards: giant blisters of glass and steel that were built to house
livestock and to grow the food (and air) to feed them. These oversized Bio-Pods
had gone to wrack and ruin when the station had been abandoned. The plants and
trees were almost all dead or rotting; the cows, sheep, chickens and pigs long
since eaten. It was easier for the inhabitants of G.O.D. 4. to go out and
hijack a few Federation food shipments every week than keep the Terra Domes
running. Anyway, the great glass domes were now so overgrown with moss and
mould that no light ever penetrated their Stygian depths. The only animals that
could survive in that atmosphere were cats and rats…and the Getham.
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