He sidled up to the back of his class, who had congregated around the long-haired teacher. He was stood next to a small, two-seater rocket which only reached the height of his waist. Despite its size, it boasted an incredible appearance. Its body was dazzling white and sleek, its wings painted in a deep crimson and set at a perfectly perpendicular angle. Across the dashboard, just behind the steering wheel, was an intricate control panel, designed to regulate hundreds of different functions. Finley had never been interested by rockets, but even he had to admit that this one was something to admire. Directly behind it was the entrance to a large tunnel that fed through the floor and, judging by the numerous amount of “caution” signs that were plastered all over it, out into Space beyond.
“Good afternoon,” the teacher spoke, his voice light and cheery. “My name is Mr. Zeppler, and as you may have guessed, I teach Rocket Control here at the Space Academy. Who can tell me why they think it might be important for the students here to learn how to fly rockets?”
There was a moment’s silence and some shuffling before a few hesitant hands reached into the air.
“Yes,” Mr. Zeppler nodded towards a tall, gangly boy at the front.
“Because it’s awesome?” he suggested. The class erupted into a giggle.
“That may be so,” Mr. Zeppler smiled, “but being able to fly rockets can have many uses. Does anyone else have an idea?”
Before he could help himself, Finley raised his hand.
“Yes, you at the back there,” said Mr. Zeppler, gesturing in his direction.
Finley cleared his throat nervously as he felt every single pair of eyes in the room burn into his person.
“Well we might need to use them when we reach Novum,” he explained. “In case we have transport things or… travel to other planets…” he trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor as his classmates continued to watch him.
“Correct!” exclaimed Mr. Zeppler with great enthusiasm. “When we reach Novum, it will be essential that we are able to use rockets to help us build our new civilisation by either transporting goods or using them for exploration. What is your name young man?”
“Finley.”
“Well Finley, would you like to come and join me at the front of the class? I’ll be needing a volunteer.”
Mr. Zeppler had posed the offer to him as a question, but Finley knew he really had no choice. The class parted in the middle and he headed towards the front, feeling as though he were on death row aboard the Mayfly, marching towards his execution. Once he had reached Mr. Zeppler, he turned to face his audience. He was relieved and more than a little surprised to see that most of the thirty-odd faces looking his way were wearing expressions of blank intrigue. Only two of the class members seemed to be sneering at him in disgust. One was a ginger-haired boy with pale, amber eyes and a crooked smile. The other was a girl with dark hair and sallow skin, her black eyes outlined with dark circles that gave her a rather unhealthy appearance. They stood side by side, united in their telepathic hatred for him. He tried not to be intimidated , but there was something about them that made him extremely uncomfortable.
“Okay,” Mr. Zeppler smiled. “Since you gave such a good answer Finley, you now have the privilege of being the first in the class to sit inside one of our rockets.”
There was an audible “oh!” of disappointment as Finley’s classmates failed to conceal their jealousy.
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Zeppler assured them, “a few more of you will be getting a chance throughout the lesson. Now! Finley if you could please do the honour of stepping inside the rocket to my left.”
Finley did as he was told. He stood on the footstall that had been placed beside the rocket and clambered inside it’s open-topped body. The chair was leather and rigid, designed with expertise to provide maximum comfort for the driver and dyed to match the precise shade of red that covered the rocket’s wings. The moment his body touched the seat, a thick steel bar descended over his head and secured him tightly into position. He looked down at the control panel in front of him. It featured more buttons, knobs and confusing looking levers than Finley had ever seen in his life, including on the complicated systems his dad had used while performing maintenance on the Mayfly. He was completely bewildered and hoped he wouldn’t have to do anything other than sit in the rocket and not touch anything.
“Okay,” Mr. Zeppler addressed the rest of the class. “As keen as I’m sure you all are to experience flying a rocket, for obvious reasons in our lesson today we will mainly be focusing on safety and procedures. Some of you may have noticed a metal bar coming down across Finley’s seat. This function is motion activated, so will automatically occur whenever anyone enters the rocket. However, there are also seatbelts that must be applied manually to secure the driver. Once all this has been put into place, there’s still something very important we have to do before we can fly. Who can tell me why I shouldn’t just send Finley into Space right now?”
There was a long silence and Finley wondered whether anyone was going to answer or if they were all in favour of him being blasted off into Space and never seen again.
“He can’t go into Space like that. He’d die,” a boy answered at last.
“And why is that?” Mr. Zeppler pressed him.
“Well the rocket is open-topped and he hasn’t got any gear on,” the boy replied. “He wouldn’t be able to breathe.”
“Correct!” Mr. Zeppler exclaimed. “What is your name, son?”
“Will,” the boy answered.
Finley craned his neck to get a glimpse of him and recognised him immediately as the boy he had seen walking with the Captain on the platform earlier that morning.
“Excellent Will, you can be my next volunteer,” Mr. Zeppler beamed. He hurried off towards a second small rocket with blue tipped wings and began typing on its control pad at an impressive speed. A moment later, it hummed into life and began moving at a meticulously slow pace across metal tracking on the floor until it stopped a short distance behind Finley’s rocket.
“Okay Will, if you wait there...” Mr Zeppler said, pointing beside the rocket. Will followed his instructions with haste, scrambling to stand beside the spacecraft.
“Will will kindly be demonstrating what protective gear every rocket user must wear on any journey into Space,” Mr. Zeppler explained, heading towards a concealed door in the wall of the hangar, his waist-length hair floating about his back as he moved. He pressed a button and the disguised door slid back to reveal several spacesuits hanging from a battered iron rail.
“In this cupboard, you’ll find spare suits in various sizes, but it usually customary for students to purchase one for their lessons. It would be a good idea if you could contact your parents at home and have them send you what you need,” Mr. Zeppler informed them as he pulled a small suit from the rack.
Finley swallowed hard. He wondered if his parents would be able to get him a suit with their current credit status. He pondered whether he’d be able to return to the Launch Bay and steal one without being discovered, or else face the humiliation of having to borrow gear every lesson. He sat uncomfortably in the driver’s chair, listening rather than watching, as Will tried on the spacesuit and clambered into the rocket behind him, which Mr. Zeppler informed the class was named a “PR-11” and was the best model for beginners to fly in. He was just in the middle of fixing the complicated seatbelt system around Will, when a cold voice interrupted his teaching, causing Finley to startle.
“How do you actually make the rockets go?” the voice asked. Finley knew immediately that it belonged to the sallow-faced girl who had unnerved him earlier with her loathsome looks.
“Well, I suppose I could demonstrate,” Mr. Zeppler answered, eagerly proceeding to press a series of buttons on the control pad in Will’s rocket.
It happened in a flash. Mr. Zeppler finished his display and went back to teaching the lesson. In a second, the sallow girl was next to him, a strange smirk on her face and a deep look o
f malice in her eyes. She reached inside his rocket, her fingers moving seamlessly across the controls as she looked at Finley with contempt. He was completely frozen, paralysed by shock and fear. There was a second’s pause. He twisted his body round sharply, his ribs jamming into the metal bar with the force of the movement. Panic engulfed him as he called out for help. Time seemed to be distorted, passing with an unnatural slowness. His class appeared in a tableau, their looks of confusion turning to horror as they realised what was about to happen.
With one final sneer, the girl pressed the last button that triggered the rocket to activate. He heard the screams of the class, saw Mr. Zeppler reel backwards in alarm and watched the Launch Bay disappear before his eyes as he hurtled down the metal tunnel and out towards Space. Without a helmet on, he would certainly suffocate. Strangely, a vivid memory flashed into his mind of when, as a small child, his parents had saved up all their credits for the month and taken him and his siblings to the Water Park on the Mayfly. Riding the biggest slide there, he had clasped the rubber ring as tightly as he could in his tiny hands, exhilaration and fear filling his entire body as he slid down the impossibly large flume. As he hurtled down the tunnel and towards Space, he felt a similar sensation of adrenaline and terror pulse through his veins. He prayed silently to no one in particular, hoping his suffering would be over quickly as the exit grew larger in his vision. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the end.
Several things happened at once. A loud cry pierced the tunnel, echoing horribly across the walls and bouncing back towards the entrance. Finley didn’t know whether it had come from him or someone else. He felt a tight, painful sensation across his neck and shoulders as though he were being grabbed from behind. A second later, he was flying through the air, independent of the rocket. He hit the hard floor of the tunnel, a wave of pain shooting down his back and head. At almost the exact same moment, there was the sound of what he could only assume was the exit opening and a deafening roar filled his ears as he was sucked towards the vacuum of Space. A second later, the noise subsided and everything was still.
He opened his eyes slowly and saw the roof of the tunnel above him. The pain in his neck twinged and he realised there was something lodged uncomfortably beneath him. He propped himself onto his elbows and looked around. The object that had been stuck underneath him groaned and began to stir and Finley realised with a jolt that it was a person. He looked down to see Will in a full spacesuit, complete with helmet, lying spread-eagled on the floor. He had followed him into the tunnel and saved his life.
“Are you okay, mate?” Will asked dazedly.
“Er... yeah… thank you…” Finley replied, unsure what else to say. He blinked as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.
Their stunned silence was interrupted by voices calling out from the other end of the tunnel.
“Will! Finley! Are you alright?” Mr. Zeppler shouted with concern.
“We’re okay! We’re down here!” Will called back.
“Oh, thank the Universe,” Mr. Zeppler exclaimed with relief. “Stay there! I’ll come and get you!”
Finley lay back down on the floor next to Will, overwhelmed by both relief and exhaustion now that the adrenaline had stopped pumping through his veins. Will groaned loudly, not attempting to move, let alone get up.
“How did you save me?” Finley asked him after a minute, staring up at the metal ceiling that encased them.
“I followed you in as soon as that creepy girl sent you down. Mr. Zeppler tried to stop me but he wasn’t quick enough. Once I caught up with you, I kind of jumped out of my rocket and pulled you out of yours, then both the rockets flew out from underneath us and we hit the floor. I don’t know how I actually managed to pull that off,” he laughed in disbelief, “It’s lucky you weren’t going very fast. Still, I couldn’t just do nothing could I?”
Finley didn’t answer. He had no idea how to express his gratitude appropriately.
“I can’t believe that girl did that to you!” Will continued, unperturbed by Finley’s silence “Was she trying to kill you? It’s insane!”
Their conversation was abruptly ended by the sound of an approaching engine. Mr. Zeppler rode towards them on a larger rocket, floating slowly and with perfect control. Finley glanced towards the door at the end of the tunnel, afraid it would spring open again and pull him out into Space without a suit.
“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Zeppler through his helmet. “I’ve disabled it. Get in.”
He extended a hand towards the boys and the two of them clambered into the backseat of the rocket. Mr. Zeppler carefully turned around in the small space and drove them safely back into the classroom.
Everybody applauded as they disembarked. Finley smiled awkwardly while Will took an exaggerated bow and laughed. Notably not applauding was the ginger-haired friend of the sallow girl, who herself had disappeared from the class completely. Almost immediately after their feet had touched the floor, a girl with long, dark hair rushed over to Will, demanding to know whether he was okay. He nodded and she gave him a hug, which caused him to go redder than a beetroot.
“I’m fine Emily,” Will re-assured her.
Once she was satisfied that he was in fact all in one piece, she approached Finley and squeezed him in a tight embrace.
“I’m glad you’re alright too,” she told him sincerely. “What that girl did is terrible! She’s been taken away now. Hopefully she won’t ever come back!”
Finley nodded profusely, still tongue-tied. It was only the second time someone at the Academy had spoken to him out of choice and he seemed to have become inexplicably mute as a result.
Mr. Zeppler regained his control of the class and wrapped the lesson up by tying the horrible incident in to his earlier point about safety, continuing to preach about the importance of taking rocket use seriously and never engaging in any flying activity without the proper experience to do so. At the end of the lesson, he sent everyone down to the Dining Hall where they would be informed what to do next. As the students began to file out, chattering chaotically about what they had witnessed, Mr. Zeppler called Will and Finley back in to speak them, Emily waiting by the door.
“You’ll probably be sent to speak to Admiral Allance,” he told them, running his hands through his hair. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. I mean the school has had accidents, but nothing on that scale. I’m not even entirely sure that it was an accident”
He rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking exhausted.
“Anyway, I apologise to you both,” he sighed. “I wanted you to have a first lesson you’d remember, but that’s not quite what I had in mind.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Zeppler, it isn’t your fault,” Will re-assured him.
“I shouldn’t have been so keen to show off how to start up the rockets,” he frowned, returning his hands to his hips and standing jauntily. “Just for future reference though boys, if that ever were to happen again, there is an “emergency seal” button which will contain about fifteen minutes of oxygen inside the rocket. I’ll cover it properly next lesson – just in case.”
“Is this likely to happen again?” Finley asked him dubiously.
“Of course not! In all my years of teaching I’ve never witnessed something as appalling as that,” Mr. Zeppler shook his head. “Anyway, you boys better get going, nothing more to do around here but clean up the scene of the crime.”
He winced at his choice of words.
“Just an expression,” he added sheepishly.
Finley smiled to show he hadn’t take offence and followed after Will as he made to exit the Launch Bay.
“I don’t know about you,” Will said to Emily as he strolled over to where she was waiting for him, “but I could really do with a good cup of tea after that.”
“Agreed,” Emily laughed and the pair began to walk off together. Just before they left the room, Will stopped and turned back.
“Are you coming, Finley?” he asked.
Finley glanced at Emily who smiled with encouragement.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” he replied, catching up to walk in step beside them, a huge grin spreading uncontrollably across his face.
7.
Room 211
It was safe to say that Emily’s first day at the Academy had been eventful. As she slid into the bed in her new room for the very first time, she let her mind drift into a sleepy state, her weary body grateful for the luxury of rest. The bed was extremely comfortable, more so than her one at home, and she burrowed into its warm depths. The inexplicably comforting smell of fresh laundry rose around her as she swathed herself in the thick duvet adorned with stars, feeling as though she were wrapping herself up in the night sky itself. She soothed her aching feet against the soft cotton of the bedsheet and resisted the strong urge she felt to drift into a sound sleep, clinging onto consciousness so that she could revisit the afternoon’s events in her head.
After the drama of their first Rocket Control lesson, Emily and Will headed down to the Dining Hall with Finley to have hot drinks and discuss what had happened in detail. Upon their arrival, however, it became clear that Will had become some sort of mini-celebrity after the event and a mob of students both from Alderin class and the other two classes in their year group, Armstrong and Grissom, had descended upon them with a flurry of questions. Will had thoroughly enjoyed recounting the tale and those present at the gathering of his new fan club had listened with delight as he explained how he had flown down the tunnel at maximum speed and leapt fearlessly from his rocket, pulling Finley to safety seconds before they hurtled into Space. It seemed like everyone in first year was ecstatic over Will’s heroics - everyone that is, except Rudy who skulked about in the background. Will’s tutor group from Floor One, who he pointed out as they sat haughtily at their own table, also refused to acknowledge the hum of excitement around them. Even the Captain’s daughter, who Will had been seen with on the platform, didn’t come over to congratulate him or ask if he was okay.
The Split (The Mayfly Series Book 1) Page 7