Brand looked only too pleased to leave their company for the breathable air of the upper Academy. As the sound of his footfalls faded, Salt relaxed his frown. Oddball’s face brightened and he crossed to greet his friends.
‘Hi, guys. Glad you could make it.’
A moment later, a sixth figure emerged from a shadowy corner of the chamber. It was Tea-Leaf.
Rake looked puzzled. ‘What’s going on, master?’
‘Apologies for the necessary deception,’ rumbled Salt, ‘and for our rather . . . fragrant surroundings. I needed a way to get you away from your ordinary duties – and from general company – without raising suspicion.’
‘That’s OK, master,’ said Hoax. ‘When Brand said he was acting on your behalf, we kind of figured you were up to something. But how did you know about the Stamper thing?’
Salt raised an eyebrow.
‘Your childish pranks are the subject of much admiring gossip among your fellow cadets, young man.’
Hoax looked rather pleased with himself.
‘So why the cover story?’ quizzed Rake. ‘What’s up?’
Salt looked meaningfully at Oddball, who took his cue. He reached into his tunic pocket and took out the replica beetle.
‘I spent most of last night taking our little bug friend here to pieces, then assembling it again. I’ve never seen anything like it,’ enthused the gadget-mad cadet. ‘It’s a mechanical masterpiece.’
He released a catch on the beetle’s underside and its wing cases swung open to reveal its inner workings. They were incredibly complex – a mass of tiny interlocking cogs, gears, microscopic levers, cams and cranks. Every square millimetre of the casing was crammed with miniature mechanical components.
‘The whole thing – flight mechanism, navigation system, everything – is mechanical. Sophisticated clockwork, powered by an ultra-efficient coil-spring. And it has a cloaking device created by a clever combination of lenses and mirrors in its casing. There are no electrical components – so its activity won’t show up on any of the Corporation’s tracking systems.’
As his fellow Armouron peered at the beetle’s intricate insides, Oddball continued.
‘And it’s not a surveillance device. There’s no spying kit – no recording or transmitting apparatus. Just this tiny payload compartment.’ He used the tip of his little finger to point to a small silver cube. ‘This thing is a clockwork courier. It was set up to find its way to the Old School and deliver something.’
He pulled a slim metal rod from behind his goggles and used it to expertly prod another catch inside the beetle. There was a soft click and the top of the silver cube sprang open. Oddball tipped the bug over and something yellow, the size of a pea, dropped onto his palm.
‘This, to be precise,’ said Oddball. He held up the object for his audience to admire. It was a small, multi-faceted, semi-transparent stone.
‘It’s beautiful!’ gasped Snow.
‘But why would anyone want to secretly send you – or us – a gemstone?’ Rake asked Salt.
‘It’s not a gemstone,’ replied his tutor. He plucked the yellow object from Oddball’s palm and looked at it closely. ‘Watch.’
He approached one of the small oil lamps by which the chamber was lit. After scrutinizing the crystal-like stone for a few more moments, he held it close to the lamp.
As the lamplight passed through the stone, it was refracted by the prism’s angled surfaces. The beam spread, to be projected onto the wall of the chamber. Parts of it were more intense, creating flickering golden lines on the wall.
Snow was the first to realize what she was seeing.
‘They’re letters!’
It was true. All five children could now make out the flickering message:
CAGED IN EPSILON HAVE WINGS NEED DOOR GRIFFIN
‘It’s a message prism,’ said Salt. ‘An ancient technique. Words are inscribed in miniature on the prism. They’re only revealed when light is shone through the correct face.’
‘Epsilon . . .’ murmured Rake. ‘That’s the leaking reactor, isn’t it?’
Salt nodded. ‘Only I suspect that in reality there’s no leak. Judging by this, the Chairman is using his containment field to isolate an enemy, not dangerous radiation. Evidently, he doesn’t want the general public to know what he’s up to.’
‘No change there, then,’ put in Hoax.
‘So whoever sent this is “caged in Epsilon” . . .’ said Snow, ‘and wants us to create a “door” – an escape route, do you think?’
Salt nodded again.
‘That seems the most probable interpretation. And judging by the “have wings” phrase, I think it likely that the party in question has a ship at their disposal.’
‘But what about the “griffin” bit?’ puzzled Snow. ‘What’s that about?’
Tea-Leaf, who had been silent so far, now spoke.
‘It’s a name,’ she said softly.
The others looked at her enquiringly.
‘I remember it from my childhood, on the streets.’ She seemed uncomfortable discussing her past. ‘Most of the time I had to look out for myself. But when I was really little, there was this old man. A street-dweller, like me. He wasn’t around all the time or anything. But when things got bad – when I got ill or really hungry – he’d almost always turn up. He’d bring me food, or dry clothes. And he’d tell me stories. A lot of them were about a man called Griffin.’
Salt watched Tea-Leaf thoughtfully, as she continued.
‘He said Griffin was a freedom fighter, a sworn enemy of the Corporation. He thought a great deal of him. I can remember him saying that he valued Griffin’s life as highly as his own.’
‘He was right about him being the Chairman’s enemy,’ said Salt.
It was his turn to be the focus of five inquisitive stares.
‘I know something of a “Griffin” too,’ he explained. ‘It was the Gladiator name of one of my first pupils here at the Academy. A talented fighter and a decent man – and one of only a handful of people who would know they could reach me in the Old School.’
‘So he’s a friend of yours?’ asked Rake.
‘Was a friend,’ corrected Salt. ‘When the Corporation began to “arrange” more and more of the Arena results, Griffin spoke out against the fight-fixing. The Chairman couldn’t allow that.’ The old man’s tone was bitter. ‘Griffin vanished one night. Tonight is the first time I’ve heard his name in nearly ten years.’
He addressed Tea-Leaf.
‘Do you know where your street friend is now? Perhaps he could tell us more.’
Tea-Leaf shook her head.
‘It’s ages since I last saw him. He came to see me on my tenth birthday. Not that I’m really sure when my birthday is . . .’
Tea-Leaf looked down awkwardly for a moment, before continuing.
‘But I have heard Griffin’s name crop up more recently. There’s been a lot of street-talk about anti-Corporation activity on the outskirts. The word is that there’s an organized band of Skirters, based just beyond the Limits. They’ve been causing the White Knights a dunk-load of trouble. They’ve staged raids against some of the main power-generating facilities – like the solar furnace fields northeast of the city. And the rumours mention a leader: Griffin.’
Rake turned to Salt again. ‘So, let’s say your ex-Gladiator pal and his Skirter friends are being held inside the containment field and that they’ve somehow managed to get this beetle thing to bring us a cry for help,’ he summed up. ‘What do we do now?’
‘Do?’ growled Salt, raising his heavy brows. ‘I should have thought that was obvious. We get them out of there.’
His forehead creased once more in a frown.
‘The real question, my young friend, is how . . .’
Chapter 5
Model Army
‘VERY IMPRESSIVE, GENERAL Decimal,’ murmured the Chairman. ‘Very impressive indeed.’
He was standing beside his Chief of Peace on the gallery
of the West One Peace Keep’s main control room. A holographic scale model of the battle-zone stretched out below him. At its centre he could clearly see the old Epsilon reactor. The surrounding area was entirely enclosed by a translucent green dome – the containment field. All around its outside stood ranks of miniature white figures, each labelled with a tiny red identity code.
The ring of White Knights had only one gap. Decimal had just explained to his superior that the final unit of androids was making its way into position. In fact, there they were – a perfect block of tiny white troops marching west across the display.
‘Of course, it would have been much simpler just to have blitzed the place,’ observed the Chairman. ‘Taken out the whole site with a Flying Fortress airstrike.’
‘Indeed, sir,’ agreed Decimal. ‘I estimate a single kiloton F-bomb would have left no survivors.’
‘But we can’t have people thinking that the Perfect Corporation governs by brute force, eh? There’s no surer way to create public support for these irritating Skirter fools than by making martyrs of them.’
Skirters weren’t a new problem. Ever since the Chairman had taken control of Nu-Topia, there had been those who opposed him. He had seen to it that most disappeared permanently, or were locked up in one of the Corporation’s underground detention centres. The lucky ones fled the city.
But they tended not to go far. The wastelands that surrounded Nu-Topia were uninhabitable, even for an outlaw. It was a long way to any other settlement and few welcomed outsiders. Most exiles tried to survive on the outskirts, just beyond the Limits. Here, they could scavenge in the Dumps – the mountainous waste heaps that encircled the city.
In the past, the Skirters had lacked the leadership to be any real threat. The White Knights had easily dealt with the occasional badly planned raid. But over the last year, a small, well-organized group of exiles had staged a series of successful attacks on Corporation facilities. They had become a serious thorn in the Chairman’s side.
But not for much longer.
The Chairman looked across the battle-zone model spread before him. The miniature troops looked like so many thousand toy soldiers. But in reality, he knew, each one of them was a remorseless, ultra-efficient killing machine. When they advanced – soon, now – nothing within the field would be left alive.
‘The future looks a little grim for our Skirter friends, wouldn’t you say, General?’ sneered the Chairman.
‘Without a doubt, sir.’ Decimal attempted a smile – an expression which really didn’t suit him. ‘By my calculations our Knights outnumber them by at least eighty to one.’
‘Excellent!’ The Chairman’s cruel grin widened. ‘As you know, my old friend, there’s nothing I dislike more than a fair fight . . .’
Chapter 6
Tactics and Tactlessness
‘SO – LET’S RUN through it one more time,’ said Salt. ‘Just to make sure everyone is clear on their role. You first, Alida.’
The old armourer and his five students were still gathered in the foul-smelling chamber in the depths of the Academy. But now the children were fully clad in their Armouron suits and clutching their helmets. Four cadet identity belts lay in a pile in one corner of the chamber.
Their transformation was far more than just a superficial change of outfit. In removing their belts and donning their armour, the cadets had shed their day-to-day characters and adopted the mindset of the knight warrior. Salt took in their purposeful expressions approvingly. They looked worthy of their titles: Templer, the Fearless; Balista, the Shadow; False-Light, the Trickster; Sappar, the Inventive; and young Alida, the Shieldmaiden.
‘Rake, Tea-Leaf and I are responsible for taking out the containment field,’ began Snow. ‘We’re to find our way inside the field generator, without being detected, and disable the control system.’
‘But just so part of the field fails,’ chipped in Rake. ‘Not the whole shebang. And only temporarily too – for around a minute or so.’
‘Good,’ rumbled Salt. ‘The field is actually a geodesic dome – that means it is made up of lots of small triangular shield zones. If you can knock out just one of those zones, it should provide Griffin with the “door” he needs. And they won’t know it is sabotage.’
‘You’re hoping they’ll put it down to a technical glitch?’ asked Hoax.
Salt nodded gravely. ‘We must do everything we can to carry out this operation undetected. If the Chairman suspects foul play – particularly Armouron involvement – things will quickly turn nasty.’
He turned to Hoax and Oddball.
‘And you two?’
‘Me and Oddball are the contact team,’ began Hoax. ‘It’s our job to find our way to the Skirter base and tell Griffin when and where the containment field is going to fail. Then they can be ready and waiting when their chance comes to make a break for it.’
‘We get around the problem of not being able to go through the containment field by going under it,’ expanded Oddball. ‘Through the disused sewer system.’
Salt nodded again. ‘Fortunately, the abandoned system goes out far beyond the current Limits, from the days when it served the entire Old City. Its tunnels will take you right underneath the Epsilon site. And they can be accessed from the Old School drains – hence our current location . . .’
‘I get the bit about going under the field,’ said Hoax. ‘But how will we know where to find Griffin once we surface inside it? Judging by the news shots we saw, the isolated area is pretty big.’
‘No problem,’ said Oddball confidently. He slid open a panel in his leg armour and took out the clockwork courier beetle. ‘It was easy enough to work out the original departure coordinates of this little beauty from the way its navigation mechanism was set up. If we head for that location, we should end up smack bang in the middle of the Skirter camp.’
‘Why can’t we just use the beetle to get a message to Griffin?’ asked Tea-Leaf. ‘It must have found a way past the containment field on its way here.’
‘We probably could have – if you hadn’t shot it,’ replied Oddball. ‘I could reset the mechanism to retrace its route, at a push. But some of the tiny bubble-valves that control its flight direction are damaged. The optical cloaking is a bit of a mess too. It would take me a fair bit of time to fix.’
‘Time we don’t have,’ said Salt. ‘Besides, your role is more than just as message-bearers. Your suits and skills will allow you to assist Griffin’s people in other ways, I hope.’
Tea-Leaf seemed satisfied. But Snow too had a query.
‘Master,’ she said quietly. ‘Why do we need to risk taking out the field at all? Wouldn’t it be simpler for Griffin and his people to follow Hoax and Oddball back through the sewers?’
‘A good question, Alida,’ replied Salt. ‘But I think we can assume that for these individuals, an escape back into the city would be no escape at all. If they return, the Corporation will not rest until it has hunted them down. If Griffin has gone to the trouble of acquiring a ship of some kind, it must be because he feels unable to dodge the authorities any longer. We must help him and his friends get well clear of Nu-Topia.’
He paused.
‘Any more questions?’
Rake cleared his throat a little awkwardly. ‘With respect, master,’ he began, ‘do you think it’s wise for all of us to be involved? I mean . . . it sounds like a pretty risky assignment, and some of us’ – his gaze fell fleetingly on Tea-Leaf – ‘have had hardly any training . . .’
Tea-Leaf’s cheeks coloured.
‘If you mean you don’t trust me not to mess things up, why don’t you just say so?’
‘It’s not about trust,’ argued Rake, avoiding her fiery glare. ‘It’s just . . . well, to be honest, you’re still new to all this, aren’t you? The rest of us have had years of Academy training. And you’re not exactly the best at controlling your impulses. Look what happened last night – you nearly took my head off with that crossbow shot!’
; ‘I’m beginning to wish I had,’ snapped Tea-Leaf. Hoax failed to hide a snigger.
Rake’s tone became less gentle. ‘One reckless move like that under pressure and you could blow the whole mission! At the moment, you’re a loose cannon. I don’t want to find myself staring down a Kettle’s laser barrel because a hot-headed rookie—’
‘Enough!’
It was very rare for Salt to raise his voice. Rake fell instantly silent in the face of the old man’s formidable anger.
‘The armour in which you are fortunate enough to stand before me was crafted for champions of the Armouron ideals: Honour, Duty, Compassion and Justice!’ thundered Salt. ‘Not for a bunch of bickering infants!’
He glared at Rake.
‘You, my lad, will respect my judgement as to who is, or is not, fit for field operations. Balista is your comrade at arms and deserves your loyalty and respect, not your criticism. Or have you forgotten our code of honour? Stand Together, Battle as One!’
He turned away from the humbled teenager.
‘And you, young lady—’
But Tea-Leaf had vanished. The space beside Snow, where she had been standing only seconds earlier, was vacant.
Oddball looked totally bewildered. ‘Where’d she go? She can’t just disappear like that . . .’
Salt’s brow creased in a frown.
‘You forget – Balista’s medallion and the suit I crafted for her greatly increase her talents for disguise. If she chose to slip away, it is well within her powers.’
‘You shouldn’t have upset her, Rake!’ chided Snow.
‘You were a bit over the top, mate,’ agreed Hoax.
Rake said nothing, but looked down uncomfortably.
‘We don’t have time for this!’ growled Salt. ‘If we don’t act immediately, Griffin and his people are as good as dead. The last thing we need is one of our team, fully suited, going walkabout!’
The Caged Griffin Page 3