O’Bray had access to the library archives in Old City—access that cost them plenty of gold. ‘There are two major prospects,’ he said after a moment. ‘The United States Federal Gold Reserve in the twenty-first century. And there’s a shipwrecked Portuguese treasure ship in the sixteenth century.’
‘The Gold Reserve—what are our chances there?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘The gold there is worth a fortune, boss,’ O’Bray replied, ‘but from what I can discover, it’s kept in very strong vaults with extremely high security.’
‘Could we send a timeline into the building?’
‘It’s possible, but we would need reconnaissance,’ O’Bray said. ‘We’d need to check out the whole set-up first.’
The Chieftain frowned. ‘Risky. And I don’t want to lose another kid. Good ones are hard enough to find and train as it is.’ He thought a moment. ‘And the ship?’
‘It was wrecked off the coast of Sumatra in 1515,’ O’Bray said, ‘carrying looted treasure from Malacca. Gold bars, coins, statuettes. A couple of tonnes at least, is my estimate.’
‘The exact location?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘Washed up on a beach. There is a tiny fishing village a kilometre or two along the coast, but no other inhabitants.’
‘An easy in-and-out for our team, then?’
‘Yes,’ O’Bray agreed. ‘If we pick the right time—and the right weather.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the Chieftain said. ‘Meanwhile, you can do something else for me.’
‘Of course, boss, anything.’
The Chieftain picked up his knife and fork. ‘Pass that mustard, will you? Steak’s nothing without the bite of extra-hot mustard.’
The tunnel reeked of sewage and chemical waste. Damien crept along a narrow path at the side of a thick stream of stinking swill that flowed out of the city. He was breathing hard and sweating and was glad to be nearing the end. With only fifty metres to go, he could see the steel grid at the tunnel mouth ahead and a glimpse of light beyond.
Damien reached the grid and took a gulp of fresh air. The well-worn nuts and bolts keeping the grid in place had been loosened many times. It took only a minute to remove them and to swing the grid inward on its hinges.
He crept cautiously out of the tunnel and crawled up a narrow embankment. The ten-metre-high stone wall that surrounded the city was now immediately behind him. The sewerage tunnel was the only way of getting into the city from the forest without being checked by guards. It was a route that no one but the poor and the desperate could bring themselves to use.
Damien crouched and waited for a few seconds at the top of the embankment. There was an open space between the wall and the first houses, and guards regularly patrolled the wall. Damien had to be watchful. To be caught here, and to give away the secret uses of the tunnel, would be a disaster. Without the tunnel, Damien would most likely never see his father again.
The way was clear, so Damien dashed across the open space and into a dirty alley between a row of unpainted wooden houses. He stopped at one of the doors, glanced up and down the street and knocked four times.
‘Trip you up!’ said a man’s voice.
‘Only if you catch me,’ Damien murmured. These were lines from a game he had once played with his sisters.
The door opened and a bear-like man appeared in the frame. ‘Out of the street—quick!’ he said.
Damien slipped inside and the door closed silently behind him. The welcoming hand of his father gripped his shoulder. ‘Damien, good to see you! How’s the family?’
‘They’re all right, Bigdad.’
‘And further news about Danice?’ Lines of worry made his face look even older than usual. The word had been brought to Bigdad earlier in the day.
‘Nothing. We still don’t know who took her,’ Damien said, and hurried through the details of the incident. ‘Then I just ran off,’ he finished. ‘I went back to the timeline and left.’ He hung his head. ‘I don’t know how to forgive myself.’
Bigdad put an arm around his son’s shoulders. ‘You reacted quickly, as best you could in the circumstances. There was nothing else you could have done.’
‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ Damien replied unhappily. He unhitched his bag. ‘Anyway, I brought you food—plenty of it. And a pair of boots as well.’
‘Thanks. Now, sit down, son. In a while we’ll talk some more.’
Damien slumped onto the old couch, letting his head fall back on the cushion. Sometimes the pressure was too hard to bear—the food-carrying trips; skulking through the dark streets at night; the endless, wearying trips through time. And now Danice’s disappearance.
Perhaps for the next few hours he could pretend it didn’t matter. He could just enjoy the warmth of his father’s company before returning to the tunnel and the perils of the world beyond.
14
‘Come on fella—hup! Hup!’
Simon urged the grey gelding into the woods at the northern boundary of Mayfield Manor’s grounds. Low branches whipped past his head as the horse extended his stride into a canter. Simon had ridden as often as possible since that first lesson, and his confidence had grown. He liked it like this, with the wind full and fresh in his face and the hoofs of his horse pounding the turf. Maxi seemed to enjoy being pushed to the limit. Weaving through the trees, they raced back out into the open.
‘Good boy!’ Simon yelled. He gave Maxi his head and they shot towards the hedge at the bottom of the field. ‘One more round of the course, old fella, then we’ll call it a day.’
Just then the alarm pinged on his wristwatch. Maxi nickered.
‘Easy, easy now!’ Simon said, checking the time. ‘Geez—I forgot! I’m late for training!’
Simon enjoyed the way that riding helped him forget his worries, but this time he had taken it too far. If he missed training, he might be banned from his missions.
Simon turned Maxi and spurred him into a gallop. Even so, it took him five minutes to get back to the stables.
‘Maeve! Hey, Maeve!’ Simon called, sliding out of the saddle.
The young woman mucking out the yard looked up at him wearily. ‘In a hurry, then?’ she asked.
‘Sorry. Really sorry. I’m late for training. Can you unsaddle Maxi and give him a rub-down? Please, big favour!’
‘Sure, but you owe me one. Another one!’
‘I won’t forget!’ Simon called, sprinting out of the stable yard. He still had to get up to the manor house and change before getting off to training.
At the main training field, Simon sneaked to the back of the line of temponauts. It had taken him five minutes to change into his full training suit (a simulated version of his real time-travel suit) and then run to the field. He was twenty minutes late.
‘So, you made it!’ Nick said, turning around with a grin.
‘Savage! Front and centre!’ Cutler ordered.
Simon grimaced, then sauntered past the others and stepped out in front. He came rigidly to attention.
Cutler glared at him. ‘So, you’ve decided to join us!’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘Twenty minutes late means twenty laps round the jogging track—when we’ve finished,’ Cutler said. ‘Is that clear?’
Don’t debate, Simon told himself, you’re in enough trouble. ‘Sir! Yes, sir!’ he said.
‘Back in line!’ Cutler barked. ‘And Spenser …?’
‘Sir!’
‘Next time you speak out of turn, you do twenty laps as well. Understood?’
‘Sir! Yes, sir!’
‘All right,’ Cutler said. ‘Savage, we’ve already warmed up in your absence. You’ll have to catch up as best you can.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Simon replied.
‘We’ll continue basic training,’ the captain continued, addressing the group as a whole. ‘In particular, with the springers in your shoes.’
The temponauts glanced nervously at the obstacle course awaiting them. There were five wall
s built from logs, and at heights of one, three, five, seven and nine metres. There was a five-metre gap between each wall.
‘I’ve seen from your mission reports that a few of you have already tested the camouflage aspects of your travel suits.’ Cutler’s eyes flicked towards Simon, Danice and Ivan. ‘And that you have done so under field conditions.
‘But I’m not satisfied you’re showing the same skills with your springers. Yesterday, we tackled the one-metre and three-metre walls. Most of you did all right.’
Nick stared down at the ground.
‘Well might you look at your miserable feet, Spenser,’ Cutler said. ‘This isn’t the football field, you know. You’re not kicking a ball. Learn to use your feet in other ways. More discipline—more coordination!’
Nick nodded sheepishly.
‘You were all chosen for this job because you already have strong athletic abilities,’ Cutler went on. ‘Surfing, survival skills, football, track and field, swimming. So, use those skills, and train hard. And for heaven’s sake learn to use your springers properly. They can get you out of difficult situations. They can save your life! Understood?’
‘Sir! Yes, sir!’ the temponauts chorused.
Cutler walked along the line, eyeing each temponaut in turn. ‘Now, a few points to remember about the operation of your springers. First, activate your springers with your wrist pilot. And remember, activation works for only one jump. You must reactivate your springers each time you jump.’
‘Yes, sir!’ the temponauts replied.
‘But there may be situations where you might need to make one, two or more jumps in sequence.’ Cutler glanced out into the field. ‘Like today’s obstacle course. What do you do under these circumstances—eh, Savage?’
‘After you finish the first jump, you pause,’ Simon replied. ‘You rock back on your heels and the springers automatically reactivate. Sir!’
‘Good. You’ve learnt something, at least,’ Cutler said. ‘Very well, Simon and Danice, you’re first. Take your positions.’ He turned to the other temponauts. ‘You have permission to encourage them!’
Simon and Danice jogged to the start—a white line painted five metres from the first wall.
‘Engage your springers!’ Cutler ordered.
Simon and Danice activated the command SPRING SHOES on their wrist pilots and with a click the soles of their springers rose another four centimetres.
‘Remember to adopt your landing position when you come out of the jumps,’ Cutler said. ‘Ready? Go!’
Together, Simon and Danice stepped back and then sprang forward, feet together. They hit the ground at the same time and bounced into the air, leaping easily over the one-metre wall.
‘A cinch!’ Simon said.
‘Try and catch me!’ Danice quickly rocked back and leapt forward again.
Simon rushed his move on the second jump and hit the ground off-balance. He lurched at an angle across the three-metre wall but just managed to land in the correct crouching position.
‘She got ya, surfie boy!’ Nick called out.
‘Good one, Danice!’ Taylor joined in.
Simon barely heard them. Despite the fumble, he quickly recovered his balance. He focused on the wall ahead. He rocked back, jumped hard and bounced cleanly, clearing the five-metre barrier a fraction behind Danice.
She flashed him a smile of triumph as they simultaneously leapt over the next wall.
‘You’re at nine metres!’ Cutler yelled. ‘Don’t forget to somersault the higher jump!’
Together, Simon and Danice rocketed into the air and into their somersaults. But Danice faltered as she came out of the turn, bumping her shoulder on the top of the wall and careering against Simon. They dropped like stones onto the thick padded matting at the base of the wall.
Simon groaned. His arms, legs and chest throbbed with pain. He took a tentative deep breath, then pushed himself up from the mat. There was no major damage.
He glanced at Danice. She lay motionless.
‘Danice!’ He crawled over and touched her shoulder. ‘Danice!’
For a second, she didn’t move. Then her eyes flickered open and she sucked in a deep breath.
‘You all right? You injured?’ Simon asked.
‘Wind … ed,’ Danice croaked. ‘Sorry … all that … my fault.’
‘Savage! Report!’ Cutler bellowed from the far side of the walls. ‘Are you two all right?’
‘Sir! Yes, sir!’ Simon yelled back.
‘Your day’s not over, Savage,’ Cutler shouted. ‘The jogging track—now!’
Simon nodded to Danice. ‘Take it easy.’ Then he called back to the captain. ‘Sir! Yes, sir!’
And he jogged off to complete his punishment.
15
‘This is planet Earth in the twenty-fourth century,’ the tall woman with frizzy red hair announced from the front of the main classroom. Her name was Sandra Creele, and she was the Bureau’s Head of Mission Mapping.
Professor McPhee turned in his seat to Simon and Danice. ‘I’ve invited only you two because this is a special briefing. The year 2321 is your next mission.’
‘It would pay to give this your full attention,’ Captain Cutler added from the back of the room.
Simon was tense with excitement. Here was a chance to see what the Time Bureau was really up to. He glanced at Danice. ‘Hey, we’ll be the first temponauts into the future,’ he whispered.
‘I’ll just be going home,’ Danice replied.
Simon nodded. ‘Yeah, suppose you’re right.’
They looked up at the image of Earth projected on the widescreen television behind Sandra Creele. The image rotated from Europe to the Mediterranean, then to India, Asia, Australia and the Pacific Ocean.
‘Hey, what happened to all the land?’ Simon exclaimed. ‘Big chunks of land are missing from the continents. And the oceans look much wider!’
‘Don’t ask me,’ Danice said. ‘We don’t have maps of the world where I come from.’
‘As Simon has so succinctly pointed out,’ Creele said, ‘the world changes significantly in the three hundred years between now and the twenty-fourth century. Ten thousand years of fairly stable climate will have come to an end. A major part of this will have been caused by global warming.’
She punched a key on a notebook PC and the picture froze on a satellite view of Europe. ‘By the year 2100, the Arctic sea ice has completely gone and the Greenland Ice Sheet has almost disappeared. This alone will raise sea levels around the world by about seven metres. Glaciers melting in northern Europe, South America and other countries will push up ocean levels even further, meaning countries like the Netherlands will be almost entirely underwater.’
Simon leaned forward, taking in every word.
‘Here, in the countries around the Mediterranean and in Africa, there are massive water shortages between the twenty-first and twenty-fourth centuries, and there is a state of almost permanent drought,’ Creele said, indicating the relevant areas with a red laser pointer. ‘Agriculture has rapidly declined, along with a massive fall in the population.’
Creele punched another key and the image rotated to Asia and Australia.
‘You’ll also see that the landmass of Bangladesh is gone,’ she said. ‘Along with other parts of coastal India, China and South-East Asia. In fact, twenty million hectares of mangrove forests have disappeared from tropical and sub-tropical zones around the world. These were areas that used to provide food, fuel and building materials for about six hundred million people. All these populations have disappeared.
‘In Australia,’ Creele went on, ‘the huge Kakadu area in the Northern Territory is now covered by sea water, and the Great Barrier Reef in Queensland has been killed off. Most of the original coastline is also underwater.’
‘Isn’t that where you live?’ Danice whispered. ‘On the coast?’
Simon nodded. For a moment, he wondered what would happen to his own home. Would Bondi simply disappear under the sea?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘And if we direct our attention to the Pacific Ocean, most of the islands are not there any more,’ Creele said.
‘What about the place you call America, ma’am?’ Danice asked.
‘I’ll get to that in a minute,’ Creele said, turning to the screen. ‘The world of the twenty-fourth century is one of contrasts. There are huge areas of desert on some continents, huge areas of steamy swamps on others. In fact, it is similar to the Cretaceous swamps during the last age of the dinosaurs. There are also similar levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere as there were then.
‘This has had a catastrophic effect on food crops, and as a result, Earth’s population in 2321 is maybe two billion people, probably fewer. That’s less than one-third of today’s population.’
‘Two out of three people have died,’ Danice murmured.
‘Is this because of food shortages, ma’am?’ Simon asked. ‘Because of the climate changing and the storms—things like that? How could so many people just … die?’
‘All of those factors played a part,’ Creele replied. ‘But this has not all happened at once. Over a three hundred year period, populations have perished through other causes, too. Wars have been fought over water resources, and there have been huge plagues of malaria and dengue fever.’
Creele swung the red pointer towards the United States. ‘Danice, you asked about America. Big earthquakes hit California in the late twenty-first century. You can see that a section of the pre-earthquake coastline has now disappeared. There is no Los Angeles, no San Francisco.’
‘Phew!’ Simon said. ‘So are there any cities left?’
‘There are pockets of advanced civilisation in Europe, South Africa, India, China, Japan, Australia and the eastern USA. But cities like ours today are gone,’ Creele said. ‘In most countries, there are isolated populations living in conditions similar to the few hunter–gatherer societies left here in the twenty-first century. Some oil-based fuel is still used, but the age of oil is mostly over. Wind, solar and nuclear power is used extensively. International travel is rare. Those who travel go by airship and boat, not by plane.’
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