The Caged Griffin

by Richard Dungworth

  Oddball had now had time to gather up the pieces of his warhammer – Hoax had dropped them when he tripped. Within seconds, he had reassembled them. In a desperate attempt to save Hoax, he charged at the creature, yelling the knights’ battle cry.

  ‘ARMOURON!’

  His mighty hammer crashed down on the beast’s shelled back. But the only effect of Oddball’s attack was to send a bone-cracking jolt through his own body. And to draw the creature’s attention. It wheeled round to face him. Hoax seized the chance to grab his staff again and hurried to his friend’s side.

  ‘I don’t think . . . we can . . . take it down,’ panted Hoax. ‘Its shell’s too tough!’

  The creature was now hanging back, making an odd klee-klee-klee noise, waiting for the best moment to strike. It was also blocking their route back to the grille.

  ‘We’ll have to run for it,’ agreed Oddball. ‘Further along the tunnel. Have you got anything to slow that thing down?’

  Holding his staff with one hand, and without taking his eyes off the creature, Hoax clicked open a suit flap under his right arm. He took out a handful of small foil-wrapped cubes.

  ‘You betcha,’ he said. ‘OK. On the count of three, run like crazy. Ready? One . . . two . . . three . . . GO!’

  Hoax flung the contents of his hand down in front of the sewer creature. It reared backwards as each cube exploded with a series of deafening bangs and crackling white flashes. The two boys turned on their heels and ran for their lives, into the pitch-black tunnel ahead.

  Chapter 9

  Going Solo

  SALT HAD BEEN right to worry. Tea-Leaf had indeed left the Academy. After slipping away from the mission briefing, she had made her way quickly through the Old School to the secret tunnel by which she always entered the complex. It led to the Academy garage, where she was now skulking in the shadow of one of the docked shuttlecraft.

  She was already beginning to regret storming off. It served no real purpose. But the anger and frustration that Rake’s continued criticism had stirred up had been overwhelming. She had just had to get away.

  What’s his problem? thought Tea-Leaf bitterly. Why can’t he accept me as one of the team?

  She wondered what Salt would make of her going off in a huff. He wasn’t likely to be impressed. After a childhood of fending for herself on Nu-Topia’s streets, the chance that the old armourer had offered Tea-Leaf to be part of the Armouron team, to belong somewhere, meant more to her than she liked to admit. And now, thanks to Rake, she might have spoiled everything.

  If only he’d give me a break. The others don’t treat me like I’m an idiot.

  She tried to pull herself together. The damage was done. She needed to get her head straight and move on. She must find a way to win back Salt’s good opinion and gain Rake’s respect.

  Maybe if I could pull off something really challenging . . . something that helps the mission . . . That would prove to them that I’m worth having around.

  A daring scheme was beginning to take shape in her mind.

  If Rake thought she wasn’t ready to be part of this mission, she would show him how wrong he was.

  With a new sense of purpose, Tea-Leaf made her way swiftly and silently to the garage exit. She slipped out into the street and hurried along it towards the stadium’s main public entrance.

  On a fight day, like yesterday, the area outside the entrance was a noisy chaos of jostling Gladiator fans. Today, it was deserted. The taxi rank on the opposite side of the street was quiet. Only three of its twenty drop-docks were occupied.

  Of the three vehicles that stood silently charging their power cells, two were standard cabs, designed to carry up to four passengers. The third was a single-seater – a tiny egg-shaped pod.

  Tea-Leaf slunk across to the smaller vehicle and hit its door release. The clear canopy that formed the cab’s upper half slid back. She quickly slipped into its snug interior. The canopy closed smoothly and an eager, artificial voice filled the cab.

  ‘Hello there! I’m FabCab 482 and I’ll be your ride today! And remember – with PerfectCorp transport systems, every ride is a perfect ride!’

  Tea-Leaf had already taken a small pair of wire-cutters from a compartment in her suit’s breastplate. She used them to prise open a panel in the cab’s left side. It had been a while since Nip – a fellow street-child – had first shown her how to hotwire a cab. She had done it twice since, but not recently. But as the panel came free, to reveal the circuitry within, she felt a flood of relief. Layout looks more or less the same – shouldn’t be too difficult to find the right wires . . .

  She had no intention of stealing the cab, she told herself. She was just borrowing it. For a worthy cause.

  As she studied the muddle of electronics, the cab’s chirpy voice prattled on.

  ‘For your safety, all FabCab journeys must be authorized by Transport Control . . .’

  Tea-Leaf located the lead she was after.

  ‘. . . Please state your destination, followed by your Citizen PIN.’

  The aim was to cut the power to the cab’s main processor. This would immediately register back at the city’s Transport Control Centre as a unit failure – a breakdown. The cab would be logged as out of order and a technician would be sent out to fix it.

  In the meantime, if she could reconnect the power to the motor systems only, she should be able to gain manual control. With luck, she could have the cab underway, with its tracking signal disabled, long before ‘assistance’ arrived.

  She gingerly moved her snippers over the thin red power cable. They slipped from her nervous grasp.

  ‘Stupid clacking things!’

  She scrabbled frantically about for them.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that! Did you say two hundred and thir—’

  The voice cut off and the soft purr of the cab’s systems died. Tea-Leaf had salvaged the snippers and cut the cable. First stage completed.

  Two minutes more and the rewiring was finished. As Tea-Leaf reconnected the power, the thrum of the tiny pod’s maglev motors kicked in again. But no more irritating voice.

  Tea-Leaf yanked open part of the cab’s interior trim to reveal a small red-knobbed joystick. This was the manual control. It was usually only used by garage technicians to move the vehicle around when its systems were offline, during manufacture or repair.

  Tea-Leaf clutched the joystick and tweaked it up and to the right. The cab disengaged from its drop-dock, rose half a metre above the ground and swung out into the street. She had control.

  Almost an hour later, Tea-Leaf was crouching in the shadow of the looming rear wall of the West One Peace Keep. She had ditched the FabCab a few miles back. Her journey through the city’s west quarter had passed without mishap. But driving right up to the doorstep of a Corporation fortress wouldn’t have been very smart. She had covered the last two miles on foot, making full use of her suit’s amazing properties of camouflage and stealth.

  Now that she was up close to the Keep, her great idea didn’t seem so great. Her aim was to get inside somehow, hack into the main computer control systems and find a way to override the containment field. Salt’s plan to sabotage the field generator was sound, but infiltrating the very heart of Decimal’s control centre was more direct – and more bold. Surely Salt and Rake would have to be impressed if she took out the field single-handedly.

  But first she had to get in.

  There was no entrance at ground level in this face of the Keep. But about ten metres above Tea-Leaf’s head, a small docking platform jutted out from the building’s sheer black wall. A narrow corridor led from it into the Keep.

  Tea-Leaf peeled back the sleeves of thin film that covered each of her gauntlets’ fingertips. This exposed the high-grip pads beneath. She reached high with her right hand and pressed it against the wall. As she let her arm take her weight, the micro-pores in the fingertip pads held fast to the smooth surface.

  She pulled herself up until her right shou
lder was level with her gripping hand, then stretched even higher with the other. Again, it gripped powerfully. As she transferred her weight to this arm and relaxed the other, her right gauntlet’s fingertips released their hold.

  Hand over hand, half a metre at a time, Tea-Leaf hauled herself up the sheer, glassy wall. She reached the platform and peered cautiously over its edge.

  There was nobody in sight. Tea-Leaf was about to haul herself onto the platform when she felt a sudden rush of energy pulse through her chest. It was the Flow, coming from her medallion. It was warning her of something.

  She took another peek over the balcony’s edge. This time she spotted it. A small silver dome was mounted in the ceiling of the corridor. It housed a set of tiny surveillance cameras. They were tirelessly scanning the corridor’s entrance.

  Tea-Leaf clung to the platform with one hand. With the other, she swung her crossbow around from her back to her front. She snapped open one of its ammunition chambers and plucked something from inside. It was a tiny ball of sticky green gel, with an even tinier black dot at its very centre.

  Tea-Leaf primed the bow then loaded the gel ball in place of its usual bolt. She raised the weapon awkwardly, with one hand, over the platform edge. She took aim and fired.

  The missile hit the silver camera dome and stuck fast. Success. While the ball clung in place, its tiny magnetized core – the dark dot – would create enough interference to turn the camera’s output signal into meaningless fuzz. But the gel coating was designed to stick only temporarily. The pull of gravity would cause it to slowly peel away. When it finally released its grip, the ball would fall to the floor – at which point normal camera service would resume.

  Security would hopefully dismiss the brief signal failure as a technical hiccup. Even if they did investigate, the tiny gel ball was likely to remain unnoticed, or even be squished underfoot, leaving no evidence of foul play.

  Already, the sticky goo was beginning to peel away. Tea-Leaf had about a minute to get clear.

  She swung herself up onto the platform and hurried into the corridor. There were bound to be more security cameras further along. She needed to get out of their field of view somehow – and quickly.

  Looking up, she found what she was looking for. A cover panel in the ceiling. Using her high-grip gauntlets once more, she quickly scaled the corridor’s smooth wall and rattled the ceiling panel loose.

  She pulled herself up and across into the cavity above the panel, then slid it back into place – only a split second before her goo-ball hit the floor.

  Curled in the cramped, dark ceiling cavity, Tea-Leaf let out a long breath. She slipped her visor’s night-vision overlay into place – and felt an immediate rush of excitement. Things were working out better than she could have hoped. The cavity carried bundle upon bundle of computer cables. There was a good chance that one of them would let her connect to the Keep’s main network. She might be able to finish the job from here . . .

  Tea-Leaf hurriedly slipped her roll-up keyboard from her suit’s leg compartment. She pulled out its magnetic hack-patch, wrapped it around the nearest cable bundle and set to work.

  Chapter 10

  A Rough Ride

  ‘OW! YOUR SWORD hilt is sticking in my side!’

  ‘Sorry,’ whispered Rake. He shifted his body awkwardly in an attempt to give Snow a bit more room. But it was impossible to find any extra space – the inside of the shuttle’s undercarriage housing was painfully cramped. It was pitch-black too. There were definitely more pleasant ways to travel.

  It had been Salt’s idea that they stow away like this. He had discovered that a news crew from PerfectVision – the Corporation’s official media group – was being sent out to report on the Epsilon ‘catastrophe’. Their shuttle was being readied for departure from PerfectVision’s city headquarters. There was just enough time for Rake and Snow to sneak the few blocks from the Academy to the media building and secretly hitch a lift.

  They had climbed the shuttle’s right rear landing-foot and hidden in its housing. When the landing gear had been raised after take-off, it had proved quite a squash.

  Even so, Rake had to admit there was no other way they could have reached their target destination – the containment field generator – so quickly.

  Snow let out another groan as their hiding place juddered violently yet again. ‘This is the last time I fly PerfectVision!’ she hissed. ‘Do you think we’re nearly there?’

  ‘Must be by now. In fact, it feels like we’re coming down, doesn’t it?’

  Sure enough, there was a sudden pneumatic hiss. Light flooded the compartment as the undercarriage doors below them split apart.

  Rake and Snow flattened themselves against the shuttle’s internal frame and clung on. With the whir of powerful servos, the hefty landing-foot beside them slowly swung down and locked in position.

  Through the open hatch, the children could see the ground approaching fast. There was a roar of engine noise and a rush of warm updraught as the landing thrusters kicked in.

  ‘As soon as we touch, get clear!’ yelled Rake over the din. Snow nodded.

  The giant metal foot whumped down, absorbing the impact as the shuttle settled on the dusty ground. Rake and Snow dropped silently from their hiding place. They landed lightly and scurried away beneath the craft’s belly, towards its rear.

  The shuttle had put down not far from a cluster of fuel dumps. A quick dash brought the two cadets to the nearest. They ducked behind a stack of fuel cells. From the safety of their hiding place, they scanned their surroundings.

  Less than half a kilometre to the west, the Peace Keep rose up from the lifeless landscape. The area around it was a hive of military activity. Rake could make out as many as twenty White Knight troop carriers. In the far distance, beyond the fortress, they could see an arching wall of luminous green light. It rose skyward, curving back and to both sides to form a vast dome of fizzing energy.

  An opening appeared in the side of the PerfectVision shuttle. A ramp extended smoothly from it. Rake and Snow watched as the team of reporters and technicians headed down it, lugging their equipment.

  ‘The Chairman will have hand-picked his own tame journalists, of course,’ said Snow. ‘And PerfectVision will no doubt be the only media organization allowed anywhere near. That way the Corporation will have complete control over any broadcast.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ agreed Rake. ‘With the right camera shots, and some clever editing, they’ll be able to put together whatever angle the Chairman tells them to. He’ll make sure the public sees something that backs up his phoney disaster story.’

  A hover barge carrying three White Knights came skimming up to the shuttle crew. After a brief exchange of words, the PerfectVision crew boarded the vehicle. It zoomed away towards the base of the energy dome.

  ‘Never mind – they’re not our problem,’ continued Rake. He turned to look due north. About a hundred metres away, a squat grey cubic structure the size of a large building sat on a colossal crawler platform. Its upper surface was covered with groups of white dish antennae, like clumps of strange mushrooms.

  Rake dropped his helmet’s zoom visor into place and slowly scanned the peculiar construction.

  ‘That’s the field generator all right,’ he said. ‘And I think I can see our way in – a ventilation outlet about two-thirds of the way up its near side. Our only problem is him . . .’

  Even with unassisted vision, Snow could see the man – a human, not a White Knight. He was standing with his back to them in front of the generator’s massive, caterpillar-tracked base.

  ‘Looks like he’s servicing the crawler platform,’ reported Rake. ‘There’s no chance of us getting in unnoticed with him there. Any ideas?’

  He turned to consult Snow – and found her with one hand laid across her breastplate, covering her medallion. Her eyes had a slightly glazed look. A moment later her expression cleared and she let her hand drop.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. �
��He’s nearly done. He’s about to move on to the opposite face.’

  Rake gave her a bemused look, then looked back at the technician. Through his zoom lenses, he watched the man replace a laser-spanner in his tool belt, then move off, heading around the front of the crawler towards its other side.

  Rake turned back to Snow, frowning. ‘How did you . . .?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Snow, a little self-consciously. ‘I just had a feeling that was what he was thinking. Come on!’

  And without saying any more, she sprinted away towards the field generator, keeping low.

  Rake set off after her, still unsure quite what had just happened.

  Chapter 11

  A Pinch of Salt

  SALT HATED DEALING with androids. This one, in particular, was about as helpful as a poke in the eye.

  ‘The Director is unavailable at the present time,’ it said, smiling sweetly. It was an administration model, programmed to deal calmly and efficiently with all enquiries – to an extent that was totally infuriating.

  ‘This is important,’ growled Salt. He dumped the shoulder guards he had spent the last two hours repairing onto the desk in front of the robotic administrator with a clatter. ‘Lanista specifically instructed me to deliver these spaulders to her, in person, the moment they were ready.’

  ‘Regrettably, she is not on the premises,’ replied the android cheerily.

  Salt could really do without this. He had hoped to return Lanista’s armour as quickly as possible. It was vital that he continue his search for Tea-Leaf. By now, the others would be well into the mission.

  It struck Salt as rather odd that Lanista was not here at Corporation HQ. She had clearly told him to bring her repaired armour to her here. What had drawn her away unexpectedly?

  The old Armouron warrior felt an intuitive sense of dread. Had she somehow rumbled their secret rescue operation?

  He tried again.

  ‘If she’s not here, can you tell me where she is, please? I’ll take them to her there.’