“Who? Who are they? NIB?’
Aureole shook her head. ‘No, not NIB.’
‘Well, who then?’
Aureole’s mouth drew into a grim line. ‘Batak said . . .’
Suddenly, a bright red beam, like a searchlight, shone down a few metres in front of the hopper. James shielded his eyes. They – whoever they were – had found them.
THIRTY
Welkin Palace, Nebulosity
‘That blasted girl! That foolish, pigheaded, blasted girl!’
Cirro watched the redness rise in Nimbus’s face, reaching the top of his head and turning his silver hairs a vivid crimson. He had not wanted to be the one to tell the Empyrean that his daughter was missing and was now the most likely suspect for stealing the prototype hopper. It had been bad enough informing Nimbus that the hopper and James were missing.
‘You’re the primary agent, it’s your job to tell him, not mine,’ Kawasaki had reminded Cirro a short time earlier.
‘That does not make it any easier,’ Cirro had replied, dread filling him.
Now he stood there, in front of Nimbus, shifting uncomfortably. He could almost feel the heat from Nimbus’s face searing his skin as the Empyrean glared at him.
‘Do you know where she is?’ Nimbus hissed through clenched teeth.
Cirro took a deep breath before he replied. ‘We have received a sonic ping from a small island in Indonesian waters. It is inhabited by a group of Archipelagiens. Aureole appears to have visited the island two years ago as one of her inter-cultural studies placements.’
‘A sonic ping?’
‘Yes, it is a low frequency air packet that the Archipelagiens transmit to us in emergencies.’
‘Why have I not heard of this before?’
‘They have not used it in over a hundred years,’ said Cirro. ‘It took the technicians a while to figure out what their scanners were detecting. I believe the sonic ping may be related to the children. It is too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.’
‘And what if it is just a coincidence? How will you find the children?’
‘My very best people are on it, Your Excellency, but I must investigate the island first. We cannot ignore their distress call.’
‘I need to know where my daughter is, Primary Agent,’ said Nimbus, raising his voice. ‘Do you understand?’
Each word struck Cirro like a shockwave. ‘Yes, Your Excellency, I do,’ he said.
Nimbus stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes revealing a heaviness Cirro had never seen before. ‘Investigate the island,’ he said, with a wave of his hand, before adding in a near whisper, ‘but find her, Cirro. Go and find your sister.’
Cirro bowed his head. ‘Yes, Father.’
Indonesian Waters
The bright red beam distorted their surroundings, casting eerie shadows around them. Fish from everywhere seemed to be attracted to it. Aureole pulled the hopper hard to the left, disturbing the sand, and accelerated towards a towering reef.
James looked back as the red beam focused on the sand plume. ‘It’s after us. The light is following our trail,’ he shouted.
Aureole took evasive action, turning sharply left then right, stopping under a coral ledge. The beam followed. Only a metre away it hesitated, moved back and forth and retraced a short distance. Aureole hit the accelerator, throwing James back into his seat. Coral exploded behind them as the hopper sped into open water.
‘Hold on,’ shouted Aureole, pushing the hopper even harder, weaving erratically through the water, heading for the surface. She had that determined look on her face, the one she seemed to wear whenever they were in deep trouble.
James clutched his stomach. ‘I’m going to be sick,’ he moaned. They flew high out of the water and then dived back into the sea, barely hurdling a reef wall. He caught a glimpse of at least three strange craft hovering in the air. Seawater boiled all around them as missiles landed close by, but the hopper remained undamaged.
A yellow and then a purple beam appeared, crisscrossing the reef. Why the different colours? thought James.
Aureole seemed to be using every trick she knew to outsmart them, but with little success. She dived deep and turned sharply, whipping up a huge cloud of sand and debris, then doubled back under the plume and headed away. She cut close to a big reef and headed for the edge of the shelf.
‘If we get to the dropoff, I think we will make it,’ said Aureole, wiping a drop of sweat from her forehead.
James could hardly hear her over the roaring engine and his pounding heart. He nodded, mute with the fear of losing last night’s dinner.
The coloured beams of light were moving faster now, searching desperately for their prey – them!
‘Another hundred metres,’ yelled Aureole.
‘We’re going to make it,’ said James, doing his best to encourage her. Then two beams caught them. The hopper filled with intense light and made a strange squealing sound, as though in pain. James shielded his eyes, fumbling for his sunglasses inside his jacket. Relief was instant as he slipped them on, but it didn’t block out the hideous noise the hopper was making.
Out of pure luck, to Aureole’s right emerged a whale shark, gracefully rising from the colder waters of the dropoff. It opened its mouth wide and gulped at the millions of plankton. Aureole turned towards the great fish, accelerated and dived under it. In the shadow of the shark, the hopper stopped screaming.
Moments later, they burst over the final reef wall, past the edge of the shelf and into deep water. Behind them, reef animals shot across the seabed as the attackers unleashed missiles. Aureole dived deep. James remembered the hopper’s 150-metre limit, wondering if she would try to go deeper. The purple beam narrowed and pierced the depths, searching for them. Rather than accelerating away from the reef into the open ocean, Aureole turned in close to the cliff edge and started heading toward the surface.
‘What are you doing?’ said James, confused by her tactic. ‘They’ll get us for sure, if we go back to the surface.’
‘I agree, but I have a plan.’
‘It better be a good one.’
Aureole’s eyes were ice as she threw James a savage look. He raised his hands in defence.
‘Dodging them in the reef is one thing,’ she said. ‘But, remember, this thing does not go very deep. We will not outrun them in the open ocean.’
‘So what’s the plan? Not surrender?’
‘Surrender? Never!’ said Aureole through gritted teeth.
‘I would rather die first.’
James swallowed hard. This really could be it. Who were these people? Why were they after them? Did it have something to do with the SAFFIRE?
Suddenly, the beams began to narrow and multiply like a laser show on New Year’s Eve. Then the various craft appeared to split up. The purple beams of light, which penetrated the water the furthest, moved out into the deeper ocean. The yellow beams cut across the bay, heading for shallower waters, and the red beams went west along the dropoff.
‘There are a number of openings to an underwater cavern about ten metres below the surface,’ said Aureole. ‘If we can find an opening big enough to squeeze through, they will never find us.’ She hesitated, caught James’s eye. ‘There is only one catch.’
‘There’s always a catch,’ groaned James.
‘We have limited power and oxygen. We cannot stay underwater for long.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ said James, trying to keep the wobble out of his voice.
The red beams were sweeping dangerously close, Aureole waited another second for the beam to pass and then accelerated. The craft doubled back. Like a flash, it was on top of them. A narrow red beam cut across the hopper, leaving a sizzling welt along its shell. The hopper released an ear-splitting wail. James clapped his hands over his ears. Aureole turned quickly to evade the next two beams and then they saw an opening to the cavern.
James caught sight of more beams closing in. ‘The others are coming for us,’ he said just befor
e the rock exploded right in front of them. Small stones ricocheted off the hopper and large chunks battered the hull. They were buffeted from side to side and when the explosion expanded, the water turned to a red froth.
Aureole pushed the controls forward and veered to the right, avoiding a falling boulder. Another red beam caught the hopper, blistering its shell, but they were almost there, safety was a few seconds away. All around them the reef began to glow a bright orange.
‘I think the reef is about to explode,’ shouted Aureole as the hopper raced through the dark opening and into the cavern. Immediately, she pulled back but it was too late. The hopper ploughed into the cavern wall and wedged into a crevice, crumpling its nose. The impact sent James and Aureole careening into the windshield, giving James an instant headache. Barely had they scrambled back into their seats, when the water compressed beneath another enormous explosion, triggering an underwater landslide.
‘Move, move, move!’ yelled James. ‘Get away from the opening.’ The walls in front of them began to crumble and fall.
Aureole shifted the hopper into reverse and hit the accelerator. The engines roared and the hopper’s shell groaned as it strained to break free of the rock crevice. For a moment, they didn’t budge and then the hopper jerked back. Aureole steered them clear of the wall and took them deeper into the cavern, until they were enveloped in inky blackness. Too dark for James to keep his sunglasses on, so he slipped them back into his jacket.
‘I think we are far enough away to risk the lights,’ said Aureole. ‘Besides, we will never get out if we cannot see.’ Another explosion echoed through the water, but it sounded much further away. ‘La-la´-ki, once told me that these caverns go for hundreds of kilometres. Maybe, if we can keep on this bearing, we will get far enough from the island to make a run for it.’
‘Can we make it? The hopper doesn’t sound good,’ said James, listening to the soft groans coming from the vehicle.
Aureole’s eyes went to the display panel. ‘The hopper’s vitals suggest the damage is not significant.’ She paused. ‘But the photosynthesis lamp that runs the life support system is using a lot of battery power. We cannot stay down here forever.’
‘The hopper’s vitals? You make it sound like it’s alive.’
‘Technically it is. It is made from a plant alloy that needs sunlight to remain functional. We should make two hours before it becomes critical. But . . . that is not the worst thing.’ James followed her concerned gaze to outside. Bubbles were streaming off the outer shell of the hopper. ‘We are losing oxygen fast,’ she said grimly.
‘And without oxygen we die,’ James replied.
‘Well, yes – but . . .’
‘But what? But, it’s okay ’cause you’re ready to die, or but somehow oxygen will magically appear?’
‘Neither,’ she responded, ignoring his sarcasm. ‘In roughly ten minutes, the hopper will start filtering the air. It will keep us alive as we keep it alive, in a kind of symbiotic relationship.’
‘Okay?’ said James, slightly confused. ‘So . . . we’re not going to die?’
‘Hmmm, well, without proper sunlight the hopper will not be able to turn our carbon dioxide into oxygen quickly enough.’
‘So we are going to die?’ said James almost matter-of-factly.
‘Slowly,’ said Aureole.
THIRTY-ONE
Archipelago, Indonesian Waters
Sunrise over the water was always brilliant, but never better than when one was standing on a beach surrounded by the ocean. ‘Shame I am here on business,’ said Cirro to himself, drawing his weapon.
From the air, the horseshoe-shaped island had looked deserted. Except for the smouldering remains of a hut with a deep crater at its heart, it had looked like any one of the ever-increasing number of abandoned villages. Climate change was causing the sea level to rise and the world’s low-lying islands, atolls and archipelagos to be forsaken. But even from a hundred metres away, Cirro could see a wisp of white smoke rising from the charred hut, indicating a recent event.
He walked along the damp sand at the water’s edge until he reached a track leading up to the village and unclipped an incendiary detector from his belt. It was high-tech, and just the thing that could save his life. He held it out, waved it back and forth from left to right and took a step forward, then another. It took a few minutes but, without stepping on any explosive device, he reached the blackened circle where a small hut had recently stood. Placing the detector in the smoke, he scrolled down the list of elements that appeared on the screen: gold, lead, copper, silicon, iron . . . the list went on. Materials commonly found in electronics, but, curiously, there was no accelerant, no residue of any known explosive substance. He tapped the touch screen and waved the detector back and forth again. It beeped once. The display read: Combustion – source unknown; Estimated time – 6.2 hours ago.
Cirro knelt down. Before him were the remains of what was once an underground computer lab. Nothing appeared salvageable, but the arrangement of melted metal, glass and ceramics told a story. The rest of the village looked as if no one had lived there for years. He headed for the centre, towards the head elder’s hut, which was much bigger than the rest. He pulled the door open and peered in. It was empty – no furniture, not even a grass mat to cover the dirt floor. He searched several more huts, all with the same result. Even the sandy ground held no signs of recent human occupation, just his own footprints. Yet someone had been here. Someone had sent the sonic ping.
Cirro shook his head, deciding that the place was a lost lead, and was about to return to his hopper when he heard a faint scratching sound. It was coming from a small dwelling near the edge of the village. The grass hut blended in so well with the tropical background that he hadn’t noticed it.
Cirro walked over to the tiny house and pulled open the door. ‘Hello, little scamp, what are you doing here?’ he said, looking down at the occupant.
The spider monkey bared his glistening white teeth and then held out a brown piece of paper.
‘What have you got there?’ said Cirro, trying to pry the paper from the monkey’s tight grasp. ‘Come on, be a good monkey . . . give it to me.’
The monkey’s grip remained firm.
Cirro stood up with a sigh, defeated by the little primate. ‘Please, give me the paper,’ he said, removing his sunglasses and gazing down at the defiant creature, his eyes beseeching.
Immediately, the spider monkey released his hold on the paper and it fell to the floor. As Cirro bent down to pick it up, the little monkey jumped onto his back and then bounded off in the direction of the jungle. ‘Hey!’ He watched until the monkey disappeared into the trees, then turned his attention to the note in his hand. The paper looked old and worn, maybe because it had been written a long time ago, or because the little monkey had been playing with it.
dEr blu Iyz
i wrt dis letta n gr8 hrry.
d (: ( av cum n my ppl +I av lil tym 2 gt awy
Ive askD (8-}) 2 stay Bhnd n giv u dis letta.
hes loyl nor (:+(
der r 2 dat nd yr hlp!
f thyre stil aliv fnd em @ -dg1tgajj .dt1gwppp
im sry dat i cnot Xpln mor, bt d }-) 1s lisN n d breez.
gard yrslf, blu Iyz, coz 1ly d X-( av seen d Nd of d War!
yr pal
Batak
It took Cirro only a moment to figure out what he was looking at. He pulled out his Supasmart Z and took a picture of the letter, then ran it through a lingo translator. Texting was a language entirely on its own, one he was familiar with but not fluent in. He read the translation, some of which was still puzzling, then glanced around the abandoned village and surrounding jungle.
‘Hello, is anybody there?’ he shouted, but his only reply was the gentle brush of a sea breeze against his face. He looked at the text again, at the sixth and seventh lines. “There are two that need your help! If they are still alive . . . Batak must mean Aureole and James. Had they escaped whatever had happened
here? Or had they been captured . . . or killed?
Once he was in the air again, Cirro circled the island and spotted some unusual marks on the opposite beach. Manmade or natural? he wondered. There was only one way to find out. He set the hopper down a short distance away to avoid compromising the site, and then proceeded on foot.
On his way, he passed a recently planted vegetable patch and noticed two pairs of heavy footprints running straight through the middle. The Primary Agent knelt down and ran a hand over them, sizing them up. ‘Too big for Archipelagiens. Adolescent Azuriens?’ he muttered. He hurried his pace, following the footprints to the start of the beach, only to find them end abruptly. Strangely, the beach was bare, except for three impressions – long, cigar shaped hollows pressed into the sand. Left by a hopper, maybe? But his detector found nothing, no residue, no signature, nothing.
Who had attacked this village? Ghosts? Evil Ones? It did not make sense. Cirro knew that he had to find Aureole and James quickly. He just hoped he was not too late.
THIRTY-TWO
Pacific Ocean
‘Ghosts!’ said James. His breathing wasn’t coming as easily as before. He rubbed his forehead, wishing his headache would go away. They had been weaving slowly through the underwater cavern for nearly an hour, and the air in the hopper had begun to taste stale. Oxygen levels were still falling, but the hopper was drawing some energy from the faint fluorescent glow radiated by millions of life forms around them.
‘There!’ said Aureole, excitedly. She pointed at something shimmering up ahead in the murky water.
The lower oxygen level wasn’t having the same effect on her as it was on James. He closed one eye, titled his head back slightly, trying to focus better. ‘What is it?’
‘An opening! A way out! Freedom!’ she squealed, slapping the steering wheel.
James knew it was sheer luck that they had found another opening, but later, Aureole would say it was her brilliant navigational skills that had saved them. He was very, very thankful nevertheless.
When they finally surfaced, they were a long way from the island and their attackers were nowhere in sight. Still, Aureole kept the hopper down low, almost skimming the tops of the waves. Detection was always a possibility and there was no point taking risks.
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