Arctic Adventure

by Axel Lewis

  Grandpa came over and Jimmy opened Cabbie’s window.

  “You look cosy, Grandpa,” he smiled.

  “Typical Loonpipe!” mumbled Grandpa through his furry hood. “He has to put on a show. Why can’t he just hold the race on a normal racetrack?”

  “Drivers,” announced Joshua Johnson through a megaphone. “Please exit your vehicles for your race briefing.”

  Jimmy got out of Cabbie and shivered. Grandpa handed him a thick, furry coat and Jimmy wrapped himself up in it quickly.

  “Attention, please!” called Lord Leadpipe’s voice.

  Jimmy and Grandpa looked around to see where the voice was coming from.

  “Look!” said Jimmy. He pointed to where Lord Leadpipe was standing on a vast block of ice with a microphone in his hand, surrounded by camerabots who had appeared from another section of the huge airship.

  “Here we go again,” mumbled Grandpa.

  “Racers,” continued Lord Leadpipe. “Welcome to the Arctic stage of the Robot Races Championship! There are three – yes, three! – different tracks which you can choose to follow in this race.”

  The competitors all shifted nervously from foot to foot at this unexpected surprise.

  “There will be no pit stops on any of the three tracks, so you should choose carefully,” warned Lord Leadpipe, wagging a warning finger of his fur glove at the competitors. “And play to your strengths. The first route you can choose,” he continued, a grin stealing across his face, “will take you over the Arctic Ocean, navigating your way through the narrow channels between the towering ice cliffs. Fall in and you face the dark, ice-cold depths of the sea.”

  Jimmy swallowed hard and tried not to shiver.

  “The second route,” said Lord Leadpipe, “is on land over the snows of Greenland. Should you choose this route, you will need to be constantly vigilant for snow covered crevasses – huge cracks in the earth’s surface, sometimes up to half a mile deep. Not to mention the howling, freezing winds stirring up snowstorms which can cause you to lose your way in the blink of an eye.”

  “None of them sound too appealing so far,” whispered Grandpa.

  “And the third route,” continued Lord Leadpipe, “will take you across the frozen sheets of ice covering the sea. The ice could give way at any moment,” he added with a grim smile. “And, of course,” he added, “I hardly need to mention that on all three routes there is the possibility of hypothermia, snow blindness and frostbite – after all, it is a bit nippy out here, isn’t it?”

  “Sounds like it’s going to be a barrel of laughs from start to finish,” Cabbie joked next to Jimmy.

  Lightning, meanwhile, was showing off. In a blur of flying snow and flashing black metal, his wheels folded in and he transformed into a sled – complete with snowplough at the front and a huge single rocket-thruster at the rear – and then back to robobike again.

  Monster retaliated by lifting her front grille and pushing out a vast snowplough that looked like it could clear an iceberg. At the controls, Missy grinned proudly.

  Chip’s robot racer, Dug, raised his crane arm and swung it in a circle over their heads before bringing it down with an almighty crash on the ice, sending a metre-wide crack ripping through the ice as far as the eye could see.

  “We’ve got some work to do if we’re going to win this one, Cabbie!” said Jimmy, giving his robot an affectionate pat on the bonnet.

  “I’m reconfiguring my software already,” said Cabbie, his processors whirring away somewhere behind his dashboard.

  “You have just one day to prepare for the race,” said Lord Leadpipe. “But in the meantime, I have a couple of surprises for you,” he said. “The first is this. The winner of tomorrow’s race will not only receive ten points to add to their score on the leaderboard, but he or she will also be presented with a very special prize from Leadpipe Industries. A very special prize indeed.”

  Lord Leadpipe paused to let this news sink in.

  “I bet it’s some kind of upgrade,” said Jimmy, his eyes glistening with excitement. “A top-of-the-range robo-upgrade—”

  “—which will be mine when I beat you losers by miles,” said Horace, appearing suddenly at Jimmy’s shoulder.

  “We’ll see about that,” muttered Jimmy, grinding his teeth.

  “Not that I need any upgrades, of course.” Horace continued, more smugly than ever. “Zoom is already fully top-of-the-range from top to bottom.”

  “And the other surprise...” said Lord Leadpipe, pausing until everyone had held their breath, “will be revealed a little later on.”

  And with a final wink to the contestants he leaped down from his ice block and strolled back to the igloo.

  “That man is one washer short of an engine cylinder,” Grandpa muttered.

  Jimmy grinned. “Who cares! It’s nearly time for the next race!”

  Chapter 3 - Three’s a Team

  Jimmy ran to get into Cabbie. Grandpa followed and got in alongside as Jimmy fired up the robot’s engine.

  “Can you believe it, Grandpa?” said Jimmy, puffing with excitement as they cruised back up the ramp and into Cabbie’s workstation. “There’s a special prize for winning this race. A Leadpipe Industries upgrade, I reckon.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Grandpa, showing no interest at all as Jimmy parked and secured the handbrake. “I don’t think we’ll be needing any of their rubbish, thank you very much,” he continued as they clambered out. “Although I could probably get something useful out of it. Something to make the auto-vacuum get around the carpet a bit quicker, perhaps...”

  “Don’t worry, Scabbie,” came Horace’s voice echoing across the airship. “I don’t think there are any snakes in the Arctic so you won’t need to spend half the race screaming like a baby. You know, like you did in the rainforest.” Horace’s head popped up from behind Zoom, and he threw his head back and laughed. The noise was like the hee-haw of a particularly annoying donkey.

  “You’ll be the one screaming like a baby when we win, Horace!” Jimmy shouted back.

  “You tell him, Jimmy,” said Cabbie. “We’ll show him what Jimmy Roberts and Cabbie are made of!”

  “Yeah?” Horace called back.

  “Yeah!” shouted Cabbie, shaking so much that Jimmy thought he might blow a gasket. “Who’s first on the championship leaderboard? Me and Jimmy! Where did you and Zoom come in the Rainforest Rampage, eh?”

  Horace opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but he couldn’t think of a good response. Instead, he stamped his foot with a thud and disappeared into the crowd of NASA engineers surrounding Zoom.

  Jimmy bit his lip and clenched his fists. He hated arguing. But he couldn’t help Horace getting under his skin. Just the thought of watching his smarmy face at the top of the podium made Jimmy feel a surge of competitiveness.

  “There’s no way we’re going to let them beat us,” he muttered to himself.

  “It’s not all about winning, you know, my boy,” whispered Grandpa, resting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “You just do your best and I’ll be proud of you.”

  “What’s all this shouting?” came Lord Leadpipe’s voice. He was marching up the ramp into the airship, still in his fur hood and boots. “Bit of friendly banter; a dash of the competitive spirit! That’s the ticket, racers, good to see a bit of passion and fire in your bellies. That’s what this competition needs.”

  “Now hold on a minute, Leadpipe,” said Grandpa, stepping in front of Jimmy as though to protect him. “I don’t need you encouraging my grandson to act like that! What kind of a role model d’you think you are?”

  Lord Leadpipe frowned, like he was struggling to work out a complex calculation in his head. “I say, Wilfred, I don’t know quite what you’re talking about—”

  “Never mind pretending you’re all innocent,” Grandpa continued, ignoring the billionaire’s protests. “You wander around in that ridiculous furry outfit, looking like a stuffed grizzly bear, drag us to the ends
of the earth with no warning at all – I haven’t even brought a pair of woolly winter socks. What do you think this cold is going to do to my chilblains?”

  “I—” Lord Leadpipe tried to say, but there was no stopping Grandpa.

  “D’you know what the temperature is out there? It’s minus twenty! I think you could have warned us that you were—”

  “I—” tried Lord Leadpipe again.

  “Grandpa!” Jimmy tried to interrupt.

  “—landing us in the middle of a blizzard,” continued Grandpa. “It’s completely irresponsible to bring children to a dangerous place like this and expect them to—”

  “Grandpa!” bellowed Jimmy.

  Finally Grandpa fell silent, his red cheeks puffing plumes of fog into the icy air.

  “I think Lord Leadpipe wants to say something,” Jimmy said in a quieter voice.

  “Really?” said Grandpa, as though he had no intention of listening.

  “I just wanted to say,” said Lord Leadpipe, “that I have made special arrangements to help you deal with the ... er ... chilly circumstances in which you find yourself. My robot co-ordinator, Joshua Johnson, will be coming to see you soon with an array of thermal clothing to keep you warm, including my brand-new invention – a pair of Leadpipe Industries’ very own HotFoot™ thermal socks. Oh yes, there he is now.” Lord Leadpipe pointed to the far end of the workshop.

  Jimmy glanced over at Sammy and Maximus. Joshua Johnson had just arrived at Sammy’s pit area. The robot co-ordinator looked even stranger than the last time Jimmy had seen him. From the waist up, he looked like his usual self in a dark blazer with the gold ‘L’ for Leadpipe on the breast pocket and a bright green cravat round his neck. From the waist down he was still wearing brown furry trousers and furry boots. He looked half-dressed for a part in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. With Joshua were three men in brown overalls, unloading towers of cardboard boxes from a huge trolley.

  “One box of thermal underwear,” Joshua was saying, reading from his clipboard. “Fourteen pairs of HotFoot™ thermal socks ... four pairs of snow boots...”

  “And that’s not all,” Lord Leadpipe continued. “My second surprise of the day is that each racer is being assigned a mechanic.”

  “A mechanic?” blustered Grandpa, his cheeks reddening again. “We’ve got one of those, thank you. Me!”

  “Yes, yes, Wilfred, but this is an extra mechanic,” explained Lord Leadpipe quietly and patiently, “to help you prepare for the extreme Arctic racing conditions which your grandson will be facing. And not just any mechanic. Even as we speak, six of the finest pit-stop mechanics are leaving Leadpipe Racing HQ in a robocopter.”

  “Really?” cried Jimmy. “Wow! I wonder which one we’ll be working with, Grandpa.” His stomach fizzed with excitement. Some of those mechanics were almost as famous as the drivers they worked for: Ryan the Wrench, Easy-Grease McGraw, Pete Webber – they could change a tyre in under three seconds with one hand while refuelling a pair of turbo rocket-boosters with the other. Rain or shine, hurricane or heat wave, those mechanics were amazing!

  “I don’t want anyone else meddling with Cabbie,” Grandpa grumbled. “I don’t want some young whippersnapper poking around under his bonnet with a spanner, breaking things and undoing all my good work.”

  “But, Grandpa,” said Jimmy urgently, “it would be good to have some help. We’ve only got a day to get ready for the race and the Robot Races’ mechanics know all about racing in the Arctic.”

  Leadpipe nodded. “Yes. We were up here two years ago,” he said. “For the final leg of the championship when Big Al and Crusher had that incident with a polar bear.”

  “Please, Grandpa,” pleaded Jimmy. “With a Robot Races’ mechanic on the team, we’ll be much better prepared for the race!”

  There was a long pause. Jimmy held his breath.

  “All right, then,” Grandpa sighed eventually. “I suppose I could do with a little help. It might be nice to have someone a little younger to carry those heavy snow tyres ... and make the tea. When is he getting here, Leadpipe, this mechanic of yours?”

  Leadpipe pulled a gold watch on a chain out from the inside of his fur-lined jacket. “In fifty-eight minutes,” he said.

  “An hour?” blustered Grandpa. “Tell him to get a move on. We’ve got a race to get ready for!”

  Chapter 4 - Meet Pete

  “The question is,” said Grandpa, “which route should we take? Over the ice, through the snow or across the sea?”

  Jimmy and Grandpa were looking at a map of the three possible race routes on the Cabcom, Cabbie’s communication system. Jimmy sat in the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the steering wheel, while Grandpa leaned in through the passenger-side window. His eyes were narrowed, deep in thought.

  “The ice is fast.” Jimmy nodded thoughtfully.

  “But slippery,” added Grandpa. “One false move and you’re skidding into the sea.”

  “The snow track’s much shorter,” said Jimmy.

  “But it’ll be very slow-going with all those snowdrifts,” said Grandpa.

  “And the crevasses,” added Cabbie. “If you fall down one of them, you don’t come back up in a hurry.” He shuddered so hard at the thought of disappearing down a freezing cold chasm that his windows started to rattle. “What about the sea track?” he asked. “I bet none of the others will pick that! We’d have the place to ourselves. Rolling along through the waves...”

  “Have you disconnected your huge computer brain?” said Grandpa in astonishment. “You’re only just waterproof!”

  “I’ve got an EFD!” replied Cabbie indignantly.

  “The Emergency Flotation Device?” said Jimmy. “The one Grandpa made out of our old rubber dinghy?”

  “Yup,” said Cabbie.

  “Cabbie,” said Jimmy with a hint of impatience, “the E stands for Emergency. It means it’s for emergency use only.”

  “It’ll be fine!” exclaimed Cabbie. “It’s tough as old boots, that EFD. Like me. We could do it, Jimmy!”

  “No, we couldn’t,” said Jimmy, with a faint smile at Cabbie’s enthusiasm. “Even if it did keep us afloat, we wouldn’t get anywhere fast on it. We’d just be drifting around, bobbing up and down when we ought to be racing ahead and winning.”

  Cabbie went quiet for a moment. “Let’s do the snow, let’s do the snow!” he said with renewed excitement.

  “I don’t know, Cabbie. Don’t you think we’d be better off on the ice?” said Jimmy.

  “I want to do the snow! I want to do the snow!” shouted Cabbie.

  “We’ve got to pick the best route,” Jimmy said determindly. “I want Lord Leadpipe’s special prize.”

  Grandpa rolled his eyes. “It’s probably an air freshener or a little Leadpipe doll to hang off Cabbie’s rear-view mirror.”

  “No, Grandpa, it’s a really special prize. Lord Leadpipe said so.”

  “Loonpipe says a lot of things,” said Grandpa grimly, “and most of them are nonsense.”

  “It’s probably a brand-new robot racer,” sighed Cabbie. “A top-of-the-range, super-high-tech shiny, spanking new robot racer.” Cabbie sighed again. “Don’t worry about me, Jimmy, I’ll be fine. I can always go back to being a taxi...”

  “What are you talking about!?” exclaimed Jimmy. “I don’t care if it’s a space rocket from the twenty-fifth century! I’m not racing in any robot except you, Cabbie. We’re a team and that’s that.”

  “Really?” said Cabbie.

  “Really,” said Jimmy firmly.

  Grandpa put an arm round Jimmy’s shoulder and squeezed, a proud smile beaming on his face – and Cabbie seemed to get a few centimetres taller as his tyres inflated with pride.

  Behind them someone cleared their throat.

  Jimmy and Grandpa jumped and turned round to find someone looking at them. He was a mountain of a man, easily over six feet tall with a bright red baseball cap on backwards. Huge muscles bulged from the short sleeves of his check shirt.<
br />
  “Jimmy Roberts?” said the man in a quiet growl.

  Jimmy’s mouth fell open. “You’re— you’re— you’re— you’re—” he stammered.

  “Who are you?” asked Grandpa politely.

  “He’s Pete Webber!” cried Jimmy. “He’s Big Al and Crusher’s pit-stop mechanic! He’s the best!”

  Pete Webber nodded just once, but said nothing.

  “I’m Wilfred Roberts, Jimmy’s grandfather and Cabbie’s inventor,” said Grandpa, smiling and shaking Pete’s hand.

  “Pleased to meet you,” growled Pete Webber in a voice so low it sounded like he was at the bottom of a very deep coal mine.

  “Have you— are you— will you...?” said Jimmy.

  “You must be the mechanic Lord Leadpipe said would be coming to work with us,” said Grandpa.

  Pete nodded again, just once as before.

  “Really?” said Jimmy, his voice so loud and high with excitement it made Cabbie jump.

  Pete nodded for a third time. “I’ve been thinking about these Arctic conditions you’ll be racing in,” he said. “Now, I’ve seen Jimmy and Cabbie race—”

  “Really?” Jimmy gasped. “You’ve seen us? Really?” He tried not to explode with happiness.

  Pete bobbed his head again before continuing, “So I think I’ve got some ideas that will help you two.”

  “Oh, good,” Grandpa smiled. “So have I. I’ve been thinking about additional antifreeze in the coolant, probably some modifications to the vents to maintain engine temperature, and I’ve been toying with the idea of a new spoiler to improve traction.”

  Pete nodded his approval. “Have you thought about reconfiguring the heat exchanger to divert more warm air into the cockpit without wasting energy?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s a question of making best use of the laws of thermodynamics,” nodded Grandpa.

  “And achieving equivalence in heat distribution to ensure maximum efficiency,” Pete added.

  Grandpa grinned, his moustache bobbing up and down in agreement.

  Jimmy looked from Grandpa to Pete in confusion. This technical talk was making his head spin.