“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, balancing on the bottom rung of the ladder. Wonderscape. The name repeated in his head. “Maybe the players are part of a secret society and you have to be a member to join?”
Between them both, Ren huffed. “Yeah, but why would a secret society have an entrance on Peacepoint Estate? It doesn’t make sense.”
Cecily reached the top of the ladder first, closely followed by Ren. Arthur heard them both gasp as he clambered onto the deck after them.
Then his legs went weak.
Beyond the ship, open sea had been replaced by the choppy waters of an icy fjord. Colossal mountains rose up on either side, their cliff-faces streaked white by waterfalls rushing down from the snowy summits. The polished deck of the Principia was dotted with wooden barrels, gleaming brass telescopes and large coils of rope. Strings of violet flags decorated with plain hexagons fluttered between the three black masts that sprung from the deck.
There were a dozen tanned crew members on board, all wearing floor-length white lab coats. As Arthur scanned their faces, he saw with a shudder that they looked exactly the same. All the men were tall and bony with sharp cheekbones and the sort of long, pointy noses you would expect a drip to fall from at any moment. The women had flame-red ponytails, piercing green eyes and impossibly flawless skin, so smooth and shiny it could have belonged to a Lego figure.
Arthur’s jaw went slack. Viewed together, the clones looked like some sort of special effect in a movie.
Cecily lowered Cloud gently to the floor. “Hello?” she called uncertainly. “Can somebody help us?”
Arthur tensed as one of the crewmen turned. Pinned to his lab coat was a name badge, which read: First Officer. He gave Cecily a forced smile before zooming towards her like he was riding a travelator.
Which he sort of was.
As the bottom of his coat flapped back, Arthur saw that in place of legs, the first officer had two metallic wheels surrounded by rings of translucent haze, that hovered above the deck. He also had a glowing T in the centre of his chin, like a light-up tattoo.
“They’re … robots,” Arthur realized, blinking. No wonder they looked identical.
Arthur, Ren and Cecily took a step back as the first officer stopped a metre short of them and folded his arms. “Welcome aboard, stowaways,” he announced gruffly. Like his fellow male clones, he had an unflattering mullet of greasy black hair clinging to the back of his scalp. “Have you seen the captain? He’s disappeared.”
Arthur remembered the oil painting Cecily had found hanging in the cabin. “Err…” He hesitated, conscious he was about to speak to artificial intelligence. “Do you mean Captain W. Saint-Ocean?”
“That’s him,” the first officer replied. “The Principia’s sailed off-course, into this deadly fjord frequently subject to avalanches. Without the captain’s guidance we won’t make it through safely. Unless you can help?”
“Us?” Arthur jerked his head. “Sorry, but we don’t know how to sail a ship. We’re thirteen.”
“Without the captain’s guidance, we won’t make it through safely,” the first officer insisted. “The Principia’s sailed off-course, into this deadly fjord frequently subject to avalanches.”
As he continued, Arthur thought he could guess what was happening. “He’s repeating himself,” he told Ren and Cecily. “He must be programmed to say the same thing over and over. Do you think this is another part of the game?” It seemed crazy, but there had to be a rational explanation for everything. Perhaps Number Twenty-Seven was abandoned because it was being used as a testing centre for the game, and the three of them had somehow got caught up in it?
“Hold on. Hold on. Let’s think. The riddle said: onwards through a fateful pass,” Cecily remembered. “I suppose this avalanche-fjord could be what it was referring to, but there must be another way for us to get back to Peacepoint without having to play along, surely?” When Arthur and Ren didn’t reply, a look of panic flashed across her face. She swallowed and marched up to a crewwoman polishing one of the brass telescopes. Arthur noticed a glowing V tattooed on her chin, instead of a T, like the male crew members. “Excuse me, can we please leave this Wonderscape game? We don’t want to take part; we just want to go home.”
The crewwoman arched an eyebrow. “Your request cannot be processed,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Cecily demanded.
“I mean, your request cannot be processed,” the crewwoman answered haughtily.
Throwing her fists down at her sides, Cecily returned to Ren and Arthur. Her voice was wobbly with nerves. “What now?”
Arthur considered what might be happening at school. His teacher would have contacted his dad to ask why Arthur was late, which meant his dad would now be seriously worried. He had to get back to let his dad know he was OK. He regarded the watery path ahead. The fjord was no wider than a football pitch and went off into the distance so there was little room for manoeuvre. “We’ll have to play along. Do either of you know anything about ships?”
Cecily cringed. “Not really. I’ve only seen one Pirates of the Caribbean movie and I think I fell asleep halfway through.”
Craning his neck, Arthur assessed the masts. They had no sails wrapped around them, which meant the vessel couldn’t be wind-powered. “The ship must have an engine,” he reasoned. “I can’t see a ship’s wheel; maybe there’s a control panel somewhere, which we can use to steer it away from danger?”
“How much danger do you think the ship’s actually in?” Cecily asked nervously. “This is just a game, after all.”
“Best to assume the worst,” Ren said glumly. She indicated a stairwell leading below deck. “I’ll search for an engine room. My mum’s a mechanic, so I should recognize one if I see it.”
“Is this the same mum that does locksport?” Cecily asked.
“None of your business,” Ren snapped. And with that, she stormed off towards the bow and disappeared into the stairwell.
Cecily’s jaw dropped. “Wow. She’s ruder than the robots.”
Arthur was secretly beginning to admire Ren’s confidence. She wasn’t shy or easily intimidated; she just said exactly what she thought. At the same time, she obviously didn’t know the first thing about making friends. Perhaps that was the reason she sat alone in geography.
Just then, a shout rang out from up ahead. “AVALANCHE, TWO O’CLOCK!”
A hundred metres off the Principia’s starboard bow, a shelf of snow broke away from the mountainside. Arthur’s legs shook as the powder came plummeting down the cliff-face and a deafening rumble filled the air.
“Take cover!” the first officer hollered, diving behind a wooden barrel.
Arthur searched the deck for a hiding place, grabbed Cecily’s arm and hauled her into the gap between several coils of rope.
“Cloud!” she called urgently.
Ears pricked, the little dog charged towards them. Cecily pulled on his collar and bundled him onto her lap.
As the ship surged forwards, the sky turned white. Hail and sleet churned through the air, obscuring the view on either side. Crew who hadn’t managed to find shelter were left grappling at the rigging as snow crashed onto the deck. A slab of ice, the size of a small car, plunged into the water off the port side, making the ship pitch.
Arthur’s jaw chattered uncontrollably as he cowered between the ropes, hoping he wasn’t about to turn into a human ice lolly. His toes felt like icicles and a layer of frost had crystallized on the sleeves of his wet blazer. He brushed a growing pile of snow off his head with a trembling hand and squinted into the maelstrom. A hunk of ice had appeared right where one of the ship’s masts had been standing.
Almost in slow motion, Arthur watched the splintered mast come looming through the mist, falling straight towards them. His heart seized with terror. Someone shouted a warning but there wasn’t time for him or Cecily to leap to safety. He felt her squeeze his shoulder as he braced himself, expecting the mast to land on top of them at
any moment…
But it never hit the deck.
A few seconds passed and Cecily loosened her grip. “Arthur.” Her voice was frail. “Look.”
Arthur’s legs were like seaweed as he pushed himself up and saw what had happened: the first officer and several other crewmen and women had caught the mast before it had flattened them. With some difficulty, they were resting it down at the edge of the deck. His chest stung with relief. They were alive, for now, but what was this place? It felt too real to be any kind of game.
Overhead, patches of blue sky pierced the fog as the snow began to fall more gently. The ship juddered against the settling waves. “ALL CLEAR!” the first officer shouted.
With pens and clipboards, the crew immediately set about assessing the damage to the ship. Cloud twisted free of Cecily’s grasp and shook himself dry.
“This is insane,” Cecily said, wringing out her skirt. “We could have been killed! What kind of a game is this?”
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know.” He had run out of potential explanations to help rationalize everything. Whatever they were playing, he just wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
“Are you ready for the report?” the first officer asked, floating over.
Arthur wasn’t sure what he meant. “Err … sure?”
“Well, the hull is still intact,” the first officer said, “but we’ve lost all function in the port side propeller and, as you can see, the foremast has been demolished. The intensity of that avalanche was measured at a six. We are halfway through the fjord.”
“Right.” Arthur gulped. They still had a fair distance to go and he’d bet everything he owned that another, more intense avalanche was waiting up ahead.
Cloud yapped and scampered over to the bow of the ship where Ren had emerged from below deck. Cradled in her arms was what appeared to be a shiny black bowling ball.
“I found the engine room,” she said, glancing warily at the broken mast as she hurried across the deck. There was oil on her hands and a sweaty sheen to her skin. “The engine has that weird triangle-hexagon-cross logo on it and it burns these things as fuel.” She placed the bowling ball very gently into Arthur’s grasp.
Arthur braced himself for the ball’s weight, but it was surprisingly light. Inside, glittering silver dust moved around like dancing ants, changing direction depending on how Arthur tipped the ball.
“Careful,” Ren warned as he rotated it in his fingers. “Those things explode on impact.”
“What?” He stopped moving.
“There’s a store full of them in the engine room,” she continued. “The crew load them into a combustion chamber, and when the fuel cells hit the sides of the tank they explode, generating the energy to power the engine.”
“So why did you bring one up here?” Arthur protested. “I could have dropped it and blasted a hole in the ship!”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be that stupid. Anyway, I found the Principia’s control system.”
“Is it possible for us to steer it away from trouble?” Cecily asked.
“Yes and no,” Ren replied. “The ship is currently set to auto-sail. Its control system is activated by the captain’s fingerprint. Without him, there’s no way for us to use it.” She gathered Cloud into her arms and gave a wonky smile as he dragged his pink tongue up the side of her face. “It’s almost like we’re not meant to.”
Clutching the life-threatening fuel cell, it occurred to Arthur that maybe Ren had a point. “Perhaps navigating the ship away from danger isn’t the solution to all this. The first officer asked us to help the ship make it through the fjord safely, he didn’t actually mention anything about steering.”
“So if we’re not supposed to guide the ship away from the avalanches,” Cecily said, following, “then how do we prevent it from being destroyed?”
We protect it, Arthur thought. But he wasn’t sure how.
He considered the broken mast. It was the falling blocks of ice that had caused all the damage, not the snow. Where ice must fall and fire blast. Thinking of the gunports in the Principia’s hull, he had a brainwave. “Ren, do you think we could use these fuel cells in the ship’s cannons? If we can obliterate the ice before it collides with us, we might survive.”
She placed Cloud back down. “It’s not the worst suggestion ever. I’ll go see.”
“AVALANCHE!” a voice screamed. “TEN O’CLOCK!”
Arthur turned to port. Two hundred metres above them, a giant crack tore through the mountain’s snowy crust. As it collapsed, the thundering boom of tons of falling ice came resounding towards them.
Time was up.
4
“Just make it work!” Arthur said, shoving the fuel cell back into Ren’s arms.
Cecily took one look at the approaching juggernaut and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Attention, crew!” she hollered. “Everyone: standby the cannons! We’ll be firing those things – ” she signalled to the fuel cell that Ren was carrying away – “at any ice falling towards us. Get to your posts!”
The crew gazed at her vacantly for a moment, then saluted with their right hands and swiftly dispersed to fulfil her orders.
Arthur’s mouth fell open. “How did you know they’d listen to you?” he shouted.
“I didn’t,” she called back. “It just felt like the right thing to do. Watch out!”
The avalanche was upon them. Snow and ice stormed around Arthur, blurring his vision and pelting his body from every angle. Echoing all around, the various voices of the crew bellowed into the maelstrom. Through the mist, Arthur spied Cecily scoop Cloud into her arms and retreat to their previous shelter between the rope coils.
“Over here!” the first officer yelled crossly.
Arthur ducked to avoid an incoming boulder of snow before skating across the puddled floor to where the robot was sheltering behind a barrel.
Crouching beside the first officer, Arthur had a clear view of the hull. The crew’s heads flashed in the openings of the gunports as they loaded and aligned the cannons. Taking inspiration from Cecily, Arthur circled his mouth with his hands and shouted as loudly as he could, “Target the larger blocks of ice!”
A fuel cell came hurtling out of the hull at a forty-five degree angle, sounding like a rocket screeching through the air. Arthur watched as it collided with a falling slab of ice. Fire burst in the sky and a shock wave sent the ship listing to starboard.
As Arthur recovered his balance, hope blossomed inside him. “Aim higher! Fire quickly!”
One by one, the fuel cells launched into the air, blasting through the incoming snow. Arthur shouted directions when he could, but it was difficult to spot the dangerous blocks of ice until they were up close. He heard Cecily yelling similar commands on the other side of the ship.
Heavy rain hammered the deck as their shots made target. Eventually the sound of cannon fire grew less frequent and steam pooled around the Principia like a thick fog. Arthur’s blood was pumping so hard he almost didn’t hear the slap of Cecily’s shoes as she came charging through the mist towards him. “Arthur, look!”
He sprang to his feet. The fjord had widened and the Principia was coasting into calm waters. Ren ran out from below deck, slamming a fist into the air. “We did it!”
Despite being drenched through to his underwear, Arthur couldn’t help but grin as they came together. Cloud resembled a soaked dishcloth in Cecily’s arms, but he was wagging his tail and gazing up at them with hopeful eyes, like a proud mascot. The game had to be over now – they’d won. Hopefully they could return to Peacepoint and get to school before any of their parents got seriously concerned.
“Hu-hum.” The first officer cleared his throat. “Are you ready for the report?” The rest of the crew lined up on either side of the ship as if preparing for an inspection.
“Fire away,” Ren said, winking at Arthur and Cecily.
“Well, there’s no fuel left in the engine and we are drifting aimlessly,”
the first officer related stuffily. “But the ship has passed safely through the avalanche zone, which means you have completed the realm-challenge.”
Arthur felt relieved to hear the word challenge. It seemed to confirm they were in a game. As the first officer finished his sentence, a football-sized sphere appeared, hovering in front of Arthur. It was made from the same red vapour as the earlier message from Hxperion. “Not that stuff again,” Cecily said guardedly. “What is it this time?”
Arthur reached out. As his fingers made contact, the sphere dissolved and a small hexagonal prism fell into his palm. It looked exactly like the one hanging from Cloud’s collar, except it was made of white quartz instead of obsidian, and there were no initials etched on the end. Before he could examine it properly, Ren elbowed him in the ribs. “Something’s happening – look!”
A beam of sunshine had appeared on deck. It moved like a spotlight towards the stern of the ship, where there materialized a man of medium height and build, with uncombed grey hair and a thin, equine face.
Arthur stared. It was the man from the portrait: Captain W. Saint-Ocean.
The captain brushed a few water droplets off his otherwise spotless navy coat. Beneath it, he wore a ruffled white shirt, woollen shorts, long white stockings and black-buckle shoes. “Congratulations, wanderers,” he said in a solemn voice. “You have successfully completed Voyage of the Captain.”
As he strolled over, it occurred to Arthur where he’d seen the captain’s likeness before: in a science textbook.
“That’s odd,” he murmured to Ren and Cecily, tucking the quartz prism safely in his pocket. “The captain looks exactly like a famous scientist I studied at school.”
“Really?” Cecily whispered. “Who?”
Arthur was about to reply when he realized something. “W. Saint-Ocean…” he murmured, picturing the name written at the bottom of the captain’s portrait. “It’s an anagram! The letters can be rearranged to spell the scientist’s name: Professor Isaac Newton.”
Wonderscape Page 3
