First published 2010 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney
Text copyright © Charlie Carter 2010
Illustration copyright © Russell Jeffery 2010
The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Carter, Charlie.
Battle bust-up / Charlie Carter.
9780330425599 (pbk.)
Carter, Charlie Battle boy ; 6.
For children.
Issus, Battle of, Turkey, 333 B.C. – Juvenile fiction.
Kursk, Battle of, Russia, 1943 – Juvenile fiction.
A823.4
Designed by Russell Jeffery, Emigraph
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.
These electronic editions published in 2010 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Battle Boy 6: Battle Bust-up
Charlie Carter
Adobe eReader format: 978-1-74262-088-6
Online format: 978-1-74262-091-6
EPUB format: 978-1-74262-089-3
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CONTENTS
COVER
AGENT PROFILE
COPYRIGHT
TITLE PAGE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
‘Where’s the KV-2 with its 152 mm howitzer gun?’ said Napoleon to himself.
He was in the military section of the hobby store, looking for Russian tanks. He had to finish his World War Two project for school tomorrow.
‘I believe it’s third on the right, second shelf,’ said a voice behind him.
Napoleon whipped around. He recognised the spiky blonde hair immediately. ‘Professor Perdu?’ he said.
She silenced him with her finger.
‘Miss Perdu!’ she hissed. ‘There are civilians present.’
She looked around suspiciously.
Napoleon looked around suspiciously too.
The only other person in the shop was Mr Jenkins, the owner. He was building a model of a World War Two air battle. Large models of Warhawks, Helldivers, Airacobras and Hellcats hung in fierce battle from the ceiling.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Napoleon.
‘I’m looking for you.’
‘But why didn’t you call me on the Battle Watch?’
‘Transmission problems,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.’
‘But how did you know where I was?’
‘That’s not important, BB005,’ said the professor quickly. ‘What is important is the next mission. It’s big. Bigger than anything we’ve ever tackled before.’
‘Great,’ said Napoleon, straightening up. ‘I’m ready for anything!’ He paused. ‘But have I got time to ring my mum? She’s making spaghetti bolognaise for lunch and I want her to save me some. My greedy-guts brothers will eat it all if I’m late.’
Professor Perdu looked at her watch. ‘You have time for one brief phone call,’ she said. ‘We’ll rendezvous at 13:00 hours.’
‘Roger dodger,’ said Napoleon.
At 12.58 pm Napoleon was already outside the Special Reading Room in the basement of the town’s library.
A Battle Boy had to be punctual.
Every second was crucial when you were part of the action in a Battle Book.
He pressed his hand against the palm pad. ‘Welcome, BB005,’ said the door as it slid open. ‘The professor is expecting you.’
Napoleon stepped into the blue glow of the main chamber.
‘Over here, BB005.’
Professor Perdu was inspecting a large grey casket. It looked like a normal Battle Book but it was three times bigger.
‘Wow!’ said Napoleon. What is it?’
‘It’s an SBB,’ the professor replied. ‘A Super Battle Book.’ The casket was securely fastened. ‘We use SBBs to store problem battles.’
‘What’s wrong with them?’ said Napoleon.
‘They’re contaminated,’ said the professor. ‘This, for example, is Book 24 –The Battle of Issus: 333 BC, Alex—’
‘Alexander the Great,’ Napoleon interrupted, ‘and King Darius III of Persia.’
‘Not bad, BB005. You know your history,’ the professor said with a smile. Then she frowned. ‘Trouble is, the battle in this book has been contaminated by Battle Book 25: the Battle of Kursk.’
‘But that took place in 1943.’
‘Precisely,’ said the professor. ‘We have two battles that happened more than two thousand years apart caught in the same book,’ said the professor. ‘Greek warriors and Persian chariots mixed up with armoured tanks and Luftwaffe fighter planes.’
‘Kerazy! How did that happen?’
‘Battle Books become brittle. Tiny cracks appear and the battle energies seep from them as vapours. These vapours mingle and – voila – a battle bust-up!’
‘Can we fix it?’
Professor Perdu crunched her knuckles. ‘I’ve been working on this problem for some time, and I have developed something that might just do the job.
She looked at him intently. ‘This is the most powerful tool I have ever invented, BB. And it is absolutely TOP SECRET.’ She cracked her knuckles. ‘If this ever got into the wrong hands, the consequences could be . . .
DISASTROUS!’
I wonder if it’s a bedroom cleaning robot or a homework wand? Or maybe a big brother bopper? thought Napoleon. That’d be awesome.
Professor Perdu pointed a remote control at the wall, and a panel opened revealing a skin-coloured glove.
‘You know the Helping Hand, of course.’
‘HH5.2,’ said Napoleon. It was his favourite gadget. ‘Cool.’
‘This is Version 5.3. It retains all the earlier features, but has been upgraded in a crucial area. It now contains . . . a Battle Editing Kit – a BEK.’
‘A BEK,’ said Napoleon. What’s that?’
‘Simple really, as so many of the best inventions are. It’s all about cutting and pasting – kindergarten IT skills. Making it work in the field is the difficult part. That’s where you come in.’
Professor Perdu paused. ‘In one of your previous missions, I digitalised the Battle Books so that I could stop and star
t the action manually.’
‘Yeah, Epsilon Phase was tricky before,’ said Napoleon.
‘Well,’ continued Professor Perdu, ‘if we come upon a battle scene in Book 24 that contains material which shouldn’t be there – like armoured tanks in the middle of Greek chariots, for example – we pause the action. You then bring up that scene on the Helping Hand’s LCD screen, use the cropping tool to select those unwanted bits, and —’
‘— and cut them out!’ Napoleon finished.
‘Exactly. I then upload the deleted piece here at main base and paste it back into Book 25. It’s a simple yet efficient procedure.’
‘Sounds easy-peasy,’ said Napoleon. ‘I might even be home in time for spag bog if I hurry!’
He raced into the change cubicle and quickly pulled on the SimulSkin, his body armour and data-collecting unit.
Hundreds of nano-computers started up as he stretched the skin-coloured outfit over his head.
‘Good afternoon, BB005,’ said Skin. ‘Your equipment for this mission is ready,’
A panel opened in the wall, revealing several pieces of gear. The Helping Hand was there too. Napoleon slipped it on and then noticed a waistcoat.
‘The HoverVest. I need that so I don’t crash-land,’ he said. ‘But what’s that?’ he asked, pointing at a grey belt.
‘That is the professor’s latest invention.’
‘A belt?’
‘Correction. It is a Nukebelt. Made of hair-like nuclear fibres woven together.’
The professor’s voice cut in. ‘It’s a wearable powerhouse, BB. There’ll be no more energy shortages on missions thanks to the Nukebelt. It should run all the equipment you’ll ever need, with energy to spare.’
‘And it’ll keep my pants up!’ said Napoleon as he strapped on the belt.
At once the HoverVest and Helping Hand registered the new power source with a brief humming glow.
‘Energy optimised,’ said Skin. ‘Back-up levels at maximum.’
‘Your cover outfit is also ready,’ said the professor.
Another panel opened, revealing a silk shirt and puffy trousers, sandals and a turban.
‘You’re a Persian boy in the camp of King Darius. I’m dropping you in just before the Battle of Issus begins. The camp is on a hilltop, perfect for observing the battle.’
Napoleon noticed that his sandals were equipped with new boosters.
Professor Perdu was at her control panel, its lights flashing. ‘You will have access to four languages,’ she explained. ‘Ancient Persian and Greek, plus modern German and Russian, if needed.’
She consulted a screen showing an X-ray of the Super Battle Book.
‘As far as I can see, only two bundles of contamination have seeped from Book 25 into Book 24. They’re the areas here and here.’ She pointed at two dark spots on the X-ray. ‘Your task is to remove and relocate these foreign bodies. Are you ready?’
‘Ready Eddie,’ said Napoleon.
She pressed a button and a round hatch opened in the wall. Napoleon stepped though it into the Tome Tower.
The SBB was open on the floor. Steamy vapours were hissing from it.
A moment later, the book’s titanium lid burst open, and a shaft of raging light shot up into the tower.
Napoleon threw himself at the light.
He vanished with a roar.
‘YAHOO!’
Napoleon loved hurtling through time. It always took his breath away.
‘How exciting is this, Skin?’
‘Excitement is not in my Behaviour Reaction Bank,’ said Skin.
‘Sorry,’ said Napoleon. ‘I keep forgetting you don’t have feelings.’
‘Apology unnecessary,’ said Skin. ‘My non-existent feelings were not hurt.’
Skin hummed and buzzed as his nano-computers targeted their location.
‘Date and place co-ordinates on Battle Watch locked in. We are passing over the Pinarus River now. GC-Locator searching for the camp of King Darius III.’
It was still dark, in the hours before sunrise.
Low cloud hung beneath him, but Napoleon could make out thousands of camp fires glowing like red eyes.
‘I can see the camp,’ he yelled.
‘GC-Locator is registering low-level uncertainty: co-ordinate confusion.’ Skin paused. ‘Re-assessing locator variables.’
They were moving at a high speed, and soon the ground was looming closer. The red eyes had grown into fiery balls.
Napoleon was nervous. He’d never done a night landing before.
‘We’ll be slowing down in a nanosecond, won’t we, Skin?’ he said.
Suddenly a loud warning siren began beeping.
‘Danger, danger,’ said Skin. ‘Too late to abort landing. Stand by.’
Napoleon braced himself for a bumpy landing.
But the Turbo-Decelerator was faultless, the Boot Boosters activated on cue, and the HoverVest hummed into action.
He floated to the ground like a feather.
Right next to two burly guards.
They were staring in front of them.
One had a scar slicing right across his nose and forehead.
The other was missing an ear.
Napoleon’s heart pounded.
Don’t panic, don’t panic.
Then he noticed that they weren’t moving.
Of course! Professor Perdu had manually activated Epsilon Phase, pausing the action in the Battle Book.
The guards were as still as shop dummies.
He pinged one of them in the chest and tickled the other under his arms, just to make sure.
‘BB, I can’t hold the action for long,’ said the professor, her voice crackling with static. ‘And I’m afraid there’s bad news!’
Here we go, thought Napoleon. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You’re in the wrong place. You’ve landed in the camp of Alexander the Great, not Darius III. And Alexander’s guards are searching for Persian spies. Abandon the mission now.’
‘Can’t I just hide instead?’ said Napoleon.
‘No time to discuss course of action,’ interrupted Skin. ‘Epsilon Phase ending . . .
5
4
3 . . .’
Napoleon scurried out of the way as fast as he could.
Kappa Phase had already begun. He could hear the sounds of the men in the camp.
He quickly tiptoed behind the guards and crept among the horses.
They were really smelly after days of battle.
He had to hold his nose as he nudged next to a huge black horse.
‘Animal identified,’ said Skin. ‘Bucephalus. Stallion of Alexander the Great. Alexander tamed him when he was only a boy.’
‘I can do without the history lesson,’ Napoleon whispered. ‘And I can do without the horse, too. I think I’m allergic to . . .
Aaaahhhh
Aaaaaahhhhh
Aaahhhh choooooo!’
‘A spy with a cold!’ shouted one of the guards.
They pounced on Napoleon and dragged him away from the horses.
‘No – really – ’ said Napoleon between sneezes. ‘It’s just hay fever. I’ve left my medication at . . . ah ah chooooo!’
‘Take him to the general,’ said one of the guards. ‘He will be very pleased we have caught a Persian spy.’
Napoleon was hauled, kicking and protesting, into the tent of Alexander the Great.
‘DNA opportunity imminent,’ said Skin.
‘Forget it, Skin,’ Napoleon replied via the thought channel. ‘I’d like the Escape opportunity right now!’
Alexander the Great was studying his battle plans with his officers. He was short and muscly, and wore a dark red tunic and leather breastplate, with a purple cape trailing behind. His hair was long and a rich golden colour.
Alexander inspected Napoleon and frowned. ‘Clearly a spy for Darius,’ he sneered. ‘Cut off his hands.’
Napoleon sneezed.
‘And his nose!’
One of the guards drew his sword.
‘No, wait!’ cried Napoleon. The words came out in ancient Greek.
Alexander looked up in surprise. ‘You speak our language?’
‘I speak many languages, Great Alexander.’
‘Where are you from, boy?’
‘From another place.’ Napoleon stopped, not sure if he should say the next bit. ‘And another time. I come from the future.’
‘Don’t waste my time,’ the general growled. ‘I have a battle to prepare for.’
‘I know. And you will win your battle.’
Alexander shook his head. ‘False words of flattery will not sway me.’
‘But I know what will happen,’ Napoleon continued as Skin quickly uploaded the battle information for him. ‘Darius will fall for your trick on the right flank, which means you can lead your elite cavalry against his left flank. That’s when you’ll start to win the battle.’
Alexander grabbed Napoleon by the arm. ‘How do you know of my plan?’ He peered hard at the boy. ‘Are you a sorcerer?’
‘No. I’m just a boy who’s come back in time so that —’
Before Napoleon could finish, a messenger burst into the tent. His eyes were wide and he was shaking with fear.
‘Great Leader,’ he said, bowing low, ‘Come quickly!’
‘What is it?’ Alexander snapped. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’
‘There are demons, my lord. Demons with fire sticks. The Underworld is here to devour us! Please come. See for yourself.’ The messenger hurried away.
Alexander the Great followed.
‘Bring the boy,’ he shouted as he strode from the tent. ‘And don’t let him out of your sight.’
The messenger led Alexander and his men through the early morning mist to a point overlooking a small valley.
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