Jocasta’s Gift
Deborah Hockney
Copyright © 2012 Deborah Hockney
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in
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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
For my daughter Gabriella, who has shared the
journey of this book with me in oh, so many ways.
Prelude
The giant solar sails unfolded majestically into the star speckled sky, trailing metre upon metre of finely crafted fabric from the ship’s hold. Gradually they spread upwards and outwards, catching the sun’s rays that would shorten the long journey through space by almost a third.
The passengers on board the Elite spacecraft strained to catch a glimpse of the magnificent sight. Peering through the narrow slit windows that punctured the sides of the huge metal frame, they could just make out the shimmering material, taunt and bright against the dark sky.
The captain ordered his crew to increase the length of the ropes and to guide the sails into the most advantageous position. An uneasy silence permeated the control room; these tricky manoeuvres could have even the most experienced handler sweating within his lightweight spacesuit. But today all went smoothly and the sails remained unfurled and nerves unruffled.
Within a few minutes the solar photon sails filled the sky above the triple decked spaceship and tugged it further into the realms of darkness. A tangible wave of anticipated excitement could be felt amongst the young cadets, who sensed that now, at last, their journey was truly beginning. No-one gave a thought to the bulky orbiting space station marooned beneath them: their last real link to Earth.
Chapter One
Jocasta Jackson was just an ordinary, fourteen year old girl. Or so she thought.
She was quite unprepared for the summons she’d received to make her way to the principal’s room on that late spring morning.
‘Jocasta Jackson, you’re to report to Mr. Stratton’s office, immediately.’ Caspar Brown, one of the head prefects, stood at the front of the room and made his announcement to the whole class, his dark eyes scanning the startled faces, as he searched to deliver his message to the right student.
Jocasta felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment under the curious gaze of her class mates. She could feel her kingfisher tattoo twitching over her right cheekbone, and as the redness spread to cover most of her face, its vivid orange and turquoise colours began to glow more vibrantly with her discomfort. She looked to her tutor for guidance, but he just waved his hand vaguely towards the exit and told her, rather dismissively:
‘Well, hurry along then. You don’t want to keep the principal waiting, do you?’ She stumbled to her feet and followed Caspar Brown through the door.
‘You’re to wait outside, until called in,’ he told her in his usual patronising tone, but then softened a little, noticing her terrified expression. ‘Don’t look so worried, you’ve not done anything wrong, have you?’
She shook her head defiantly in reply, trying to remember the last time she’d been in any trouble, but could only recall the ticking off she’d had from Miss Chancy when she, David and Will, had taken an unauthorised swim in the school’s pool.
Jocasta walked briskly along the corridors, her metal bracelet, which was partly a fashion statement, partly an efficient, miniaturised data base, rhythmically knocking against her wrist. The wrist com drew its power from the vibration of her movement and when fully charged, as it was now, the dials glowed with jewel-like intensity. Occasionally she glanced through the tall windows to the grounds outside and wished she was there in the bright, spring sunshine. Walking under the branching cherry trees, heavily laden with their pretty, pink flowers seemed a far pleasanter option than heading for a ticking off, for doing something wrong. Something; which she couldn’t even recall. Perhaps, she mused, it was another of Will’s pranks.
This was her favourite time of year, when the trees were freshly green with their new leaves and the sun was gently warming to the skin. Will would often make fun of her when she exclaimed with delight at the joys of nature; he was much more interested in the newest technology and said it was a girlie thing to even notice when the trees were about to leaf again.
‘How can you get so enthusiastic about something that happens every year?’ he would remark. Then they would get into an argument about environmental issues and Jocasta would hear herself repeating the well worn phrases that her father used when she, and her sister Imogen, complained about his strict control of energy and fuel in the home.
Remembering her father, Jocasta wondered how her parents would react when they heard she’d been called to an interview with Mr Stratton.
She reached the door and her eyes slid over the familiar words of Woodbridge Academy’s declaration, stating it was: An educational establishment offering fine learning in all aspects of academic and physical studies, for any child between the ages of six and sixteen who is prepared to work with flair and diligence, in accordance with the expectations of the world governing bodies.
Huh! Jocasta thought, noticing a small cobweb draped delicately between the wall and the frame. Someone hasn’t been too diligent with their cleaning efforts today.
She was just wondering whether to knock and wait, or sit down on one of the blue, hard backed chairs, when the disembodied voice of FRAN, the friendly automated voice of the students’ computer announced: ‘Jocasta Jackson please enter.’
The door to Mr Stratton’s office slid open to reveal not only the principal, but three other people as well. Two of them she instantly recognised, and although they were very familiar it was a bit of a shock to see her parents both sitting there in the cramped room. It was dominated by a rather large, black desk, supporting an ugly vase, which was filled with wilting, purple tulips and strewn with piles of what appeared to be a mixture of old school papers and magazines. Mr Stratton was squashed in behind it, his hands nervously fidgeting with a clutch of pens spread before him.
Alongside her parents was an official looking woman, dressed in the military style of the Elite Corps. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a tight bun and the three star badges on her lapel indicated that she was a high ranking officer. Jocasta acknowledged her parents with a bewildered look as Mr Stratton, seemingly relieved at her arrival, spoke pointedly to her.
‘Please sit down Jocasta,’ he said, indicating the one remaining chair with a slight indication of his head. ‘We have some extremely important news for you.’
Jocasta thought that this was rather an obvious statement considering the other people in the room, but guessed it was probably best not to express that view right then. She was glad to be able to slide onto the chair next to her father and took the opportunity
to quickly glance at the expression on his face. Much to her surprise and relief he winked at her, and surely that must mean, she thought, that she hadn’t done anything too terrible.
Dhan Jackson was an academic man who spent a lot of his time shut in his study, or attending conferences debating the causes and likely outcomes of the environmental catastrophes that seemed to be happening at an alarming rate around the world. He did, however, possess a wicked sense of humour that manifested itself in elaborate practical jokes, a source of annoyance to his wife, but one that endeared him to his daughters.
Evie Jackson was, as always, immaculately dressed. Wearing black with a dark red scarf and scarlet shoes, her long fair hair swept off her face and plaited so that it lay heavy and golden down her back, she looked as though she might have walked straight off the page of a 21 century fashion magazine. A warm feeling came over Jocasta as her mother turned and gave her one of her rare and beautiful smiles. She’d always felt slightly in awe of her mother’s beauty but rather proud of it too. Jocasta had inherited her mother’s green eyes and perfectly shaped nose but her colouring was much darker, like her father, and to be truthful Jocasta was not really interested in clothes and hairstyles, although her mother was forever hopeful that her daughter would learn to appreciate the benefits of a well groomed appearance. Evie was very fond of stating, ‘Presentation is as important as content.’
‘Shall I break the news to Jocasta, Officer Delaney, or would you like to inform her?’ Mr Stratton addressed the Elite official in the deferential way that he always used when speaking of, or to, the Elite Organisation. Jocasta and her friends had often speculated that perhaps he was one of the ‘silent members’ who spied on unaware citizens, making sure that no subversive activities were taking place. In their earlier years at the Academy they would make up wild stories about Mr Stratton, the secret weapon of the branch of The Unexplained Mystery Makers and spend time giggling about the imagined ‘adventures’ of his youth.
Although only in his early forties, Mr Stratton, a tall thin man, had an unfortunate face that looked as though it had been around for ever. His small eyes were surrounded by wrinkles and his rather large nose was covered in little red veins that gave him the appearance of perpetually suffering from a heavy cold. Jocasta could just make out the nervous tick that throbbed beneath his lower eyelid whenever he became agitated.
‘That’s quite alright Mr Stratton,’ the Elite Officer replied, in clipped tones. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
Turning to Jocasta she spoke in a formal, yet reassuring manner. ‘Jocasta Jackson, you have been selected to take on the badge of an Elite trainee, and,’ here the officer paused momentarily, allowing her words to settle on the small group and then looking Jocasta straight in the eye, ‘when you have finished your school term here, to travel to the Mars Colony to begin your training there.’
She offered Jocasta a tight smile. Jocasta barely noticed; thoughts were exploding in her head like overwhelming fireworks
‘This is obviously a great honour and I am sure that you will want to accept your commission with us. However, because this will affect the remainder of your academic life you have been given a twenty-four hour deadline to discuss your decision with your parents.’ She gave a cursory nod towards Jocasta’s parents and then continued. ‘You will be trained by the Elite, for the Elite, to work in the habitats of Mars, to achieve set aims and goals, and to further the Elite’s prerogative of Earth’s explorations into the stars.’
Jocasta opened her mouth in barely concealed astonishment, but pulled her lips together quickly as Officer Delaney continued.
‘We hope that you will accept this opportunity and that you realise just how significantly this could assist you in the future. Any additional information that you may require can be found on this greencode pin, fully compatible to your personal DS. Should you wish to discuss any particular matter with me I will be available after the meal break in the school’s robotics lab.’
Without any further delay she clasped each of their hands briefly in her own, hesitating just momentarily to say to Jocasta that she had no doubt that she would make the right decision, and to pass her the greencode pin. And then she was gone.
Jocasta, like her parents, had stood to say goodbye to Officer Delaney, but now she felt her knees go weak and sank onto the chair in absolute amazement. She had no idea that she was being considered for the Elite Corps, let alone the Mars Colony. She had so many questions running round in her head that she didn’t know what to say first. In the space of one minute, her life and where it was headed had taken a completely unexpected change, presumably for the better.
Jocasta’s father let out a long, low sigh of surprise just as Mr Stratton began to speak.
‘Well Jocasta, an honour indeed, and I must say the school is very proud to have another of its pupils chosen again.’ Jocasta had, of course, known the Meyer triplets, Callisto, Leda and Himalia, who had been picked to join the Elite a couple of years previously. They too had been selected for the Mars Colony, but Jocasta hadn’t heard how they were progressing or even which city they were based in. Most of the Elite’s activities were kept very much out of the normal news. In fact, Jocasta had only heard a rumour a few months ago that the Elite might be recruiting again this year but she had dismissed it out of hand. Obviously, as the Meyer triplets had proved, students were chosen, hand-picked it seemed, by the formidable force that was the Elite – but she had never, ever dreamt that she would be chosen …
‘We were rather surprised,’ Mr Stratton continued, ‘that you were given this chance, as your academic achievements have not equalled those of our highest achievers. However, we are quite well aware that the Elite look at the potential of the individual not just their IQ results.’
‘Mr Stratton,’ Evie Jackson quickly intervened, her voice full of ill concealed displeasure at his remarks. ‘My daughter might not have the most conventionally’ (she said the word with the sort of disdain that might be reserved for a particularly malodorous smell) ‘intelligent brain in your school, but her problem solving techniques have consistently placed her in the top two percent of this establishment ever since she arrived here at the age of six. That is what the Elite are looking for; an enquiring and lateral thinking mind, not just some child who can memorise and regurgitate facts in outdated exams.’
Mr Stratton opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again as Evie Jackson uncrossed her long legs and leant forward to place her hands on the paper strewn table.
‘If you had taken the time to check Jocasta’s records you would have noticed that she has risen up the ranking tables in all subjects, quite consistently, over the past few terms.’
‘Quite so, quite so,’ Mr Stratton replied, obviously rather embarrassed that he hadn’t had the opportunity to locate this information prior to the meeting – but then, he had been reckoning without Evie Jackson. ‘It wasn’t my intention to imply any lack of intelligence or capability on Jocasta’s part. I…I-’ He began to stutter and for one awful moment Jocasta thought she would start to laugh, but she bit down on her bottom lip and managed to suppress her giggles.
‘I’m quite sure Jocasta will make an excellent student and do her best for the Elite.’ He looked towards Jocasta’s father as he finished speaking, unable to meet the discomforting stare of Evie’s eyes.
‘I’m sure she will,’ Dhan replied quietly. ‘If that’s the path she chooses to take: Jocasta may decide differently.’
‘Well, darling?’ Evie turned towards her daughter, ‘Do you want to meet the challenge?’ Jocasta looked from her mother to her father and then back again to her mother.
‘Yes, Mama, I think perhaps I do; but just at the moment it seems a little unreal.’
‘I’m sure it does, my dear.’ Mr Stratton intervened before Jocasta’s mother had a chance to say anything else. ‘So why don’t you take your parents to your Planet Room and discuss it further there. I have another meeting to attend in a few minutes ti
me but if you would like to see me again before you leave,’ he spoke directly to Dhan, ‘I will make myself available.’ And with those parting words he rose from behind the desk like a giant stick insect and began ushering them from the room. They could just make out his continued mumbling, ‘I’m sure you’ll make the right decision between you,’ as the door closed with a swish behind them.
Chapter Two
The school was divided into four groups, each named after a planet: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn. Each student belonged to one of them; Jocasta was in Mercury and it was to this student room that she led her parents, in a whirl of excitement and some anxiety.
‘What do you think I should do? Oh, would you like a drink? Why have they chosen me?’ She did a little spin as the questions gathered all over again. ‘Surely there must be some mistake, do you think? How will I tell Will and David and… and Imogen!’ The questions tumbled out without Jocasta waiting for, or expecting, a reply; and her parents, knowing it would be impossible to stop the flow, let her continue with this torrent of words until finally they reached the beautiful Mercury room.
The lush silver carpet was wonderfully soft under their feet and the high arched ceiling had been painted in iridescent colours that sparkled and shimmered as they moved about the room. There were large windows that looked out over the sloping, wooded grounds and down to the estuary beyond, where small boats and yachts could be seen bobbing up and down on the tide.
A giant telescope was positioned on the large, semi-circular balcony and on clear nights the students would cluster round, each trying to get a closer glimpse of the stars and distant constellations that beckoned them to a far different future than that of their parents or grandparents.
For now, much to Jocasta’s relief, the Mercury room was empty. She shook off her shoes and twirled around in an excited dance while her bemused parents looked on. She felt her face begin to glow as she thought about the opportunity of going to Mars and being a member of the Elite.
Deborah Hockney Page 1
