by Mark Walden
‘Well, somebody must’ve signed you up,’ the American girl said. ‘If my mom and dad sent me here then you can bet there’s a good reason. They always said I’d go to the best school that they could find, so I guess this must be it. My dad was always telling me that nothing was too good for his Shelby.’
It struck Otto that Shelby’s parents may just have been looking for a school that would keep her under lock and key for a few years in a secure location a very long way away from them. Still, there was something about Shelby that bothered Otto. He had always been unnaturally good at spotting a liar and something about her just didn’t ring true. He suspected she was hiding something, as if the unpleasant persona she displayed was an act. He resolved to keep a slightly closer eye on her and see if he could get any closer to the truth.
There was one other question that had been bothering Otto. Who had picked him? Somebody had to have selected him for this, and even now was footing the bill for his new life at H.I.V.E. The problem was, he had no idea who or why. Just one more question to add to the rapidly lengthening list, he thought.
‘My mum will have signed me up,’ said Nigel. ‘She’s always wanted me to follow in my father’s footsteps. She was always saying that one day I’d learn to be like him. I suppose this is what she was talking about.’ He didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of becoming Darkdoom Jr.
‘Well, I suspect we’ve all done something to earn a place at H.I.V.E.,’ said Otto. ‘It’s just a question of figuring out what it was.’ He was almost certain that the events of the last few days explained his own presence on the island, but he was curious to know what special characteristic marked the others out as H.I.V.E. recruits.
Laura looked slightly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation and Otto suspected that, despite what she had said, she too probably had a pretty good idea about whatever it was that she’d done to deserve a place at H.I.V.E.
Wing was staying strangely silent throughout this, and Otto wondered what it was about him that had attracted H.I.V.E.’s attention. For the moment, at least, it wasn’t something he appeared to want to share with the other students.
‘What about you?’ Franz pointed his fork at Otto. ‘What have you done?’
Otto had feared that this might come up, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share that with the others right now. He didn’t know them well enough to tell them everything just yet.
‘I’m not sure. I suppose we’ll find out eventually what we did to deserve this.’ Time for a change of subject, Otto thought. ‘Anyway, did you see that classroom on the way here with all the –’
Otto was interrupted by a firm tap on his shoulder. The others at the table were all staring wide-eyed at something behind him. Slowly he turned round in his seat. Standing there were two massive boys. They both had blond hair that was cropped close to their skulls and what they might have lacked in height they more than made up for in width. Neither of them appeared to have necks, their massive shoulders seeming to blend seamlessly into their jawline. They both wore blue overalls that were struggling to accommodate their bulky frames, which wasn’t to say that they were fat; in fact they appeared to be made of solid muscle. Otto thought back to the briefing earlier that morning – blue overalls meant Henchman stream.
‘Dis is our table,’ the first brute said, ‘move . . . now.’ He stared down at Otto, his look seeming to suggest that doing what he asked was a good idea, unless you happened to be a fan of the sound of snapping bones. Your own bones specifically. Otto stared back at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Otto replied, ‘but I don’t speak gorilla. You’re going to need an interpreter.’
The hulking boy’s face turned dark. ‘Whadidchoo say?’
Otto sighed. ‘I said that your limited communication skills are going to make it very difficult for us to have a meaningful inter-species conversation.’ Otto heard the scraping sound of the others at the table sliding their chairs away from his.
The henchman student turned to his companion. ‘I fink this little maggot is making fun of us, Mr Block.’
‘I agree, Mr Tackle. Dat is a shame. We will have to show him what happens to maggots what don’t do what we tell dem to,’ the other boy replied.
With that the boy called Tackle turned Otto’s chair around and picked it up with Otto still sitting in it. He didn’t appear even to be straining himself as he brought the still-seated Otto up to his eye level, as if examining him more closely. Wing started to get up from his chair but Otto shot him a quick look, shaking his head slightly, and he sat back down, a look of concern on his face.
‘He is a funny little man though. It would be a shame to break him.’ Tackle gave Otto an evil grin.
Otto returned his smile. ‘You couldn’t hold me a little lower, could you? It’s just that you’re breathing right on me and I’ve just eaten.’ Otto knew that it probably wasn’t wise to wind Tackle up like this, but if there was one thing he hated it was a bully.
‘I fink you might want to shut up now. It’s gonna be hard for you to talk anyway with a mouthful of teeth.’
‘Oh, do be quiet.’ Otto reached out and jammed his index finger into the soft flesh beneath Tackle’s ear.
There was a fleeting look of astonishment on Tackle’s face and then his eyes rolled upwards and he collapsed, dropping the chair with a loud bang that echoed around the cavern and jarred Otto’s spine. All over the room heads turned in their direction as the wide-eyed Block stared in amazement at his friend who was now gently snoring on the floor.
‘You’re dead,’ Block shouted, and with a murderous look on his face he charged at Otto like an enraged rhino. Otto quickly stood up. He had a horrible feeling that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.
There was a blur of movement to Otto’s right and suddenly Wing was standing between him and the charging henchman. Block had no chance to react as Wing dropped low and swept one foot out in an arc that took the thug’s feet cleanly out from under him. Little more than a projectile now, the giant boy sailed through the air, his chin coming down on the edge of the table with a crack. The other students scattered as the table tipped, the remains of their half-eaten meals sliding down it and covering the snoozing Tackle and the groaning Block.
Otto was astonished by the speed with which Wing had moved.
‘Are you all right, Otto?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Otto replied, ‘at least for the moment.’ He looked past Wing at the advancing figures of Dr Nero and the Contessa.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.’ Nero looked down at the unconscious henchman and his dazed companion. ‘It would seem that you have started to make friends already, Mr Malpense.’
Otto feared that Dr Nero knowing his name was probably not a good thing.
‘They started it,’ said Laura indignantly, pointing at Tackle and Block.
‘And the two of you finished it, apparently.’ Nero gave Otto and Wing a long stare and then prodded the unconscious Tackle with his toe. Block, groaning, rose to his feet, his head covered in gravy.
‘Mr Block, take Mr Tackle to sick bay and have them check you both over,’ Nero instructed.
Don’t bother, Otto thought, head injuries shouldn’t worry these two.
Block gave Otto and Wing a murderous look and then taking Tackle by both arms he began to drag his still gently snoring companion from the hall.
‘What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?’ the Contessa demanded. ‘H.I.V.E. will not tolerate unauthorised violence between students, especially students that have only been here for a matter of hours.’
‘I was just introducing myself,’ Otto replied innocently.
‘I’m afraid I appear to have inadvertently offended them somehow.’
‘Forgive me, Mr Malpense,’ Nero said, fixing Otto with a piercing look, ‘if I find it hard to believe you would do anything by accident. This is hardly a promising start to your first day, is it?’
‘No, Dr Nero. It won’t happe
n again.’ Otto looked down at the floor, doing his best impression of an apologetic child. While he might be prepared to pick a fight with two shaved apes like Block and Tackle he wasn’t quite prepared to take on Dr Nero just yet. Better that the good Doctor believed that he was prepared to toe the line for now.
‘See that it doesn’t. I would hate to have to take disciplinary measures.’ Nero paused. ‘I don’t like to see young lives wasted.’ Otto didn’t think that he was talking about missed educational opportunities.
.
Chapter Four
The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a blur. They were hurried from one area of H.I.V.E. to the next, being shown where all of the school’s key facilities were and the locations of the classrooms that would play host to their first few lessons. Notably, they’d been taken to the sick bay, which seemed to Otto more like a fully equipped miniature hospital than some dusty room used by a school nurse. There had been a nasty moment when they’d arrived at the sick bay just as Block and Tackle were leaving following their check-up. They’d given Otto and Wing looks as they walked past the group which, for the first time, almost made them grateful that the Contessa was there. It left them in little doubt that they would be very wise to avoid an unscheduled meeting with them in some distant deserted corridor of the school.
They’d also been taken to the physical training cavern, where they’d seen groups of exhausted students being put through their paces by gym teachers who looked more like drill instructors. As soon as one group completed the full assault course that ran the length of the cavern they were scaling long ropes that hung from the ceiling. Otto had never been a particular fan of intense physical exercise, so he was not really looking forward to his first session in this cavern. Wing, however, seemed to be delighted with the array of exercise machines and training equipment, even strangely remarking at one point that they reminded him of home.
Throughout this the Contessa had continued to explain the workings of H.I.V.E. to them and answered most of their many questions about the school. Otto had been more interested in the questions that she avoided answering than the ones that she had rattled off an obviously well-practised response to. As before, she had remained oddly reluctant to answer anything relating to transport off the island or communications with families, but he had been interested to note that she also wouldn’t discuss exactly how many people were on the island or what source of power they used. He had considered pressing her for answers to these queries, but had thought better of it when Wing reminded him that the only answer he was likely to get from the Contessa would almost certainly cause temporary confusion and amnesia.
And so, eventually, they had ended up back at Plotting Room Two, where the tour had started that morning, all, once again, seated around the large black table. Only one thing had changed about the room since that morning. Arranged neatly on the table in front of each of the students were what looked like small, matt-black PDAs with the H.I.V.E. logo in silver on the front. The Contessa stood at the end of the table and addressed them.
‘So, children, that completes your introductory tour of H.I.V.E. I’ve no doubt that some of you will have found it difficult to take in all that you have seen today, but as you spend more time here you will find that you quickly become used to life at H.I.V.E. I’m sure you also have many unanswered questions, and with that in mind the last thing I’d like to introduce you to before you are taken to your new quarters is this.’ She held up a device identical to the ones that sat on the table in front of each of the children. ‘This is your H.I.V.E. personal digital assistant, more commonly known to the students and staff as a Blackbox. This device is designed to provide all of the assistance you need in getting used to life at H.I.V.E. and should prove invaluable to you over the months to come. Take good care of it and, whatever you do, do NOT lose it. Please pick up your Blackboxes and open them, like so.’ The Contessa flipped open the cover on the front of the device.
They all dutifully did as instructed and there was a chorus of bleeps from around the room as the tiny machines started up. The screen on Otto’s machine displayed the H.I.V.E. logo for a couple of seconds, which then vanished to be replaced by the familiar blue wire-frame face of H.I.V.E.mind.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Malpense. How may I be of assistance?’ the machine’s soft voice enquired.
All around the room H.I.V.E.mind could be heard greeting each of the group by name.
‘Your Blackbox provides a direct mobile interface with H.I.V.E.mind and you may consult him at any time of the day or night for help or advice. He can provide you with all of the details of your timetable and any outstanding schoolwork that you may be due to complete, as well as advising you on any other aspect of school life that you may be unsure about.’ The Contessa continued, ‘The Blackbox is essentially indestructible: it is waterproof, shock-proof, fire-proof, radiation-proof and will, I am told, even function in a vacuum. This is your single most important piece of school equipment and must be carried with you at all times. Failure to do so is a serious breach of school rules and offenders will be punished accordingly.’
Otto was willing to bet that this strict rule meant that it would be a lot easier to track the movements of a student who had to carry their Blackbox with them at all times. He also found the name of the device worrying, given that Blackboxes were normally used to determine what went wrong in an air disaster only after everyone aboard an aircraft was dead. He wondered if the children’s Blackboxes would serve a similar purpose if something ‘unfortunate’ should happen to them. Still, it was a direct link to H.I.V.E.mind and that could certainly prove useful.
‘Now, as promised, I shall escort you to your accommodation block and you can get settled into your quarters. Please follow me.’ The Contessa headed towards the Plotting Room door as the group stood up to follow her.
‘This,’ the Contessa said, ‘is accommodation area seven.’
The large high-roofed cavern had an impressive open stone-floored atrium in the centre, with a waterfall at one end, tumbling from a small cave near the roof and down the wall into a crystal-clear pool. Arranged around the atrium were groups of comfortable sofas and armchairs, many of which were occupied by students who appeared to come from a cross-section of all streams, judging by their uniforms. Some were sat alone working, flicking through books or scribbling in note pads, while others sat around in groups, engrossed in conversation or playing games. There were even some swimming in the pool at the base of the waterfall.
Around the walls of the cavern were wide balconies on four different levels. Strange twisting vines and other tropical plants hung from each balcony, and elevators in glass tubes could be seen ferrying people quickly between the different floors. Opening on to each balcony were rows of identical white doors, which would occasionally hiss open and shut as students came and went.
‘This is where you will spend much of your time when not in classes. There are many communal facilities in this area that you may wish to take advantage of, including libraries and games rooms, but I shall leave it to your new block monitor to explain this all to you in more detail. Now, where is Mr Khan?’ The Contessa looked around the room. ‘Ah, there he is. Come along.’ The Contessa set off across the atrium.
‘Well, this seems . . . erm . . . nice,’ Nigel said as they made their way across the broad atrium in pursuit of the Contessa.
‘As long as we all don’t have to share one bathroom,’ Shelby replied.
Otto noted that this area seemed to be designed on the same grand scale as all of the other facilities within H.I.V.E. that they had seen so far. It was as if the architect of the facility had been given a brief to make sure that the students were overwhelmed by its size. No doubt this was done deliberately to give the students the impression of being very small individual parts in a much larger machine. It was hard not to be impressed by such grandiose construction, but Otto reminded himself that big did not necessarily mean better.
The Contessa halted be
side a group of three sofas arranged around a low table. Sitting in these seats were three older students, two boys and a girl, who were engaged in such a heated discussion that they did not notice the Contessa’s approach.
‘I don’t care what you say. He’s just a man, he’s not indestructible,’ said a tall black girl wearing a white uniform.
‘Then how come he’s still around after all these years, survived all those attempts to eliminate him?’ asked a thin boy with a crooked nose and a vertical scar across one eye. His black jumpsuit marked him out as an Alpha.
‘More to the point, why doesn’t he seem to have aged at all since he first appeared? He should be sixty or seventy years old now, but he still looks like he’s in his thirties,’ offered the third student, a handsome Indian boy with long dark hair that fell to his shoulders and a goatee beard, trimmed into an immaculate triangle, on his chin. He too wore the black jumpsuit of an Alpha stream student.
‘Maybe he’s not actually the same guy as when he first appeared. Maybe they just alter a younger man’s appearance to match his every few years and quietly replace him,’ the black girl replied.
‘Oh, come on, Jo, that’s ridiculous,’ the Indian boy shot back. ‘As if people wouldn’t be able to see the difference. Look, I’m telling you, he’s still the same guy, and if –’
‘Ahem.’ The Contessa cleared her throat and the boy turned, startled. Seeing her standing there, he immediately leapt to his feet.
‘Oh, sorry, Contessa. We didn’t see you there, we were just discussing . . . er . . .’ The boy looked at his companions, as if willing them to complete his sentence for him.