Battle Bust-up

by Charlie Carter

  As they reached the spot, several loud explosions rocked the air. The Greeks fell to the ground at once, pulling Napoleon with them.

  ‘Weapons identified,’ Skin said. ‘Howitzer cannon, 122 mm.’ Rapid gunfire followed. ‘Those are machine guns.’ Then there were some more explosions, smaller than the first ones. ‘They are hand grenades.’

  Napoleon lifted himself off the ground. He could see at least thirty Russian soldiers firing rifles from a trench on one side of the valley.

  On the other side, a German machine gun was returning fire and two large cannons were blasting away. A battalion of German soldiers was preparing to charge.

  ‘We’ve found our first piece of contamination from the Battle of Kursk.’ Professor Perdu’s voice was in Napoleon’s ear. ‘I’ll pause the action. Try to free your hands so you can use the BEK.’

  Napoleon struggled with the ropes, but it was no good. They were too tight.

  ‘These truly are demons,’ stuttered Alexander, staring at the Germans and Russians. ‘Foul fiends from the Underworld that have burst to the surface. If only the gods would make them go away.’

  ‘I can make them go away,’ offered Napoleon.

  ‘Do it, then,’ Alexander said, pointing at the battle scene. ‘Take all of it away before it infects our souls!’

  ‘Untie my hands, and your wish is my command.’

  Alexander signalled to the trembling soldiers and Napoleon was released.

  ‘Manually activating Epsilon Phase,’ said Professor Perdu.

  Almost at once, the guns and explosions fell silent and the action stopped. Hand grenades hung in the air. German soldiers scrambled in mid-charge from their trench, mouths open in silent shouting. Russian soldiers aimed their rifles, poised to fire.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Napoleon said. ‘Step 1, A-OK.’

  The Greek soldiers were motionless as well. Alexander was still pointing at the battle scene.

  ‘Now for Step 2.’ Napoleon rubbed his palms together to start the Helping Hand.

  ‘HH5.3 activated,’ Skin reported.

  An LCD screen materialised on Napoleon’s left hand.

  ‘Initiating Battle Edit Kit,’ Skin continued.

  Seconds later the battle scene from the valley also appeared on Napoleon’s palm-screen.

  ‘Work quickly, BB,’ said the professor. ‘I don’t know how long I can keep the action on pause.’

  Napoleon used the cropping tool to outline the contaminating scene on the palm screen. As soon as he’d done this, an Options Box appeared. He chose two commands:

  CUT

  and

  UPLOAD TO

  MAIN BASE

  ‘I hope this works,’ he said, and hit

  ENTER

  At first nothing happened. The palm screen didn’t even flicker.

  But then Napoleon’s left hand began trembling. A moment later his whole arm was shaking. Soon his entire body was shuddering uncontrollably.

  ‘What’s happening, Skin?’ he shouted.

  The palm-screen began flashing: On-off. On-off.

  ‘Massive upload in operation,’ said Skin. ‘Data being transferred through you, BB005.’

  ‘What? You mean I’m the modem for this BEK thing?’

  ‘Correct. Battle Energy Bundle being transmitted as we speak. Passing through your body . . . NOW!’

  ‘That figures,’ Napoleon shrieked with pain. ‘It feels like . . .’

  Suddenly, he had no words. His left hand heated up as the palm screen continued to flash. His arm arched dreadfully as a mighty electronic charge surged through it. His stomach churned, his eyes bulged, and his head felt as if it would explode.

  It seemed like a whole battle was being fought inside him.

  He bounced up and down on the spot. He twisted and twirled, and went as purple as Alexander’s cape. He was so charged with energy he even did a backflip. And were they sparks coming from his fingers?

  And then – as quickly as it had begun – it was all over.

  ‘Phew!’ gasped Napoleon. ‘I think I just got cooked. Thanks for the warning, Professor.’

  ‘Yes, sorry about that, BB,’ said the professor. ‘One small detail I forgot to impart.’

  Napoleon stared at his palm screen. The battle scene on it flickered for a moment, and then vanished.

  Seconds later there was an almighty groan from the valley below, and the real scene began breaking up. Cracks appeared in it and pieces fell away, shattering like a sheet of glass. Soon, there was nothing left but a huge hole where the German and Russian soldiers had once been.

  No land, no trees, no sky.

  And then a mighty wind followed as a swirling mass of land, trees, water and sky was sucked in to fill the hole.

  Napoleon watched the landscape reform, with fir trees and pines, and sheep grazing beside a meandering stream – all of it returning like a film going backwards.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ he gasped.

  A message from Professor Perdu flashed across his Battle Watch:

  ‘We did it!’ Napoleon yelled.

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Skin. ‘Contamination bundle number one out of the equation.’

  Napoleon slumped to the ground. ‘I’m beat,’ he said. ‘That energy transfer really sucked it out of me.’

  ‘Inactivity impossible,’ said Skin. ‘One task still to perform, and utmost speed is required to avoid dangerous outcome.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Napoleon.

  ‘Preparing MemRay.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Napoleon, standing up. ‘The Greek soldiers need to have their memories wiped before Kappa Phase kicks in.’

  He slid the MemRay from his HoverVest and pointed it at the Greeks.

  But it spluttered and fizzed.

  ‘Malfunction in beam unit.’

  ‘NO!’ Napoleon yelled at the MemRay, shaking it furiously. He tried it several more times. But nothing happened.

  And then it was too late.

  ‘Kappa Phase resuming.’

  That was the last thing Napoleon wanted to hear.

  The last thing he wanted to see was two Greek guards bearing down on him.

  They grabbed him and tied his wrists.

  ‘Did you really think you could escape from me?’ said Alexander the Great as the men dragged Napoleon in front of him.

  Napoleon struggled against the ropes. ‘We had a deal. I got rid of those demons for you!’

  ‘Yes, you did. And that’s why you’re my prisoner. You’re working for me now.’

  ‘Working for you?’

  ‘You are my new weapon,’ smiled Alexander. ‘Let Darius match me now. You vanquished demons from the Underworld. Now you can destroy my enemies in this world.’

  Napoleon shook his head. ‘No, I can’t. That’s different.’

  But Alexander wasn’t listening. His eyes were widening at the thought of all that power.

  ‘I’ll conquer the world. I won’t be just Alexander the Great. I’ll be Alexander the Greatest! Alexander the Most Fantasticest. Alexander the —’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Napoleon. ‘But I can’t help you.’

  Alexander snarled. ‘We’ll see about that. What Alexander wants, Alexander gets. And,’ he smiled evilly, ‘I can be very persuasive. With the help of some wriggly friends.’ He laughed. ‘Take him away!’

  Wriggly friends? Napoleon wondered as the guards dragged him off. ‘What do you think they are, Skin?’

  ‘Worms are wriggly,’ Skin replied. ‘So are bugs, slugs, lizards, snakes and . . .’

  SNAKES!?! yelled Napoleon.

  ‘Beautiful, aren’t they? And so deadly.’

  Alexander the Great was peering down into a broad, deep pit filled with snakes –hundreds of them.

  ‘The main ones are adders and vipers, but there are cobras as well, pythons, and some very poisonous asps. You don’t want to be bitten by them.’

  Napoleon was suspended by his arms over the pit. The snakes were far below. For the
moment.

  As Alexander had already explained, he would be slowly lowered into the pit.

  ‘Just as well I’ve got you, Skin,’ Napoleon said. ‘Bullets, bombs, snake bites – they mean nothing to the best body armour in the world!’

  ‘Bullets and bombs involve high velocity impact,’ said Skin. ‘Snake bites are slow and piercing.’

  ‘Are you saying snakes could bite through you?’ Napoleon said, anxiously.

  ‘There is a medium-level possibility.’

  ‘Oh, great!’ Napoleon groaned. ‘That’s all I need.’

  It was time for Plan B. He turned to Alexander. ‘I’m too young to die,’ Napoleon pleaded.

  ‘Of course you are,’ said the General. ‘And you won’t if you do as I say.’

  ‘But I can’t,’ cried Napoleon. ‘Please believe me.’

  Alexander pulled a lever. ‘The snakes look particularly hungry today,’ he said to his soldiers. ‘Let’s offer them a tasty morsel.’

  A cogged wheel began turning slowly, and Napoleon felt himself descending into the pit – centimetre by centimetre.

  ‘I’m going to be the greatest conqueror of all time, boy,’ said Alexander. ‘And I’m offering you a part in that glory. If you choose to reject my offer, that’s your pity.’ He laughed. ‘Get it?’ he said pointing at the pit. That’s your pit – y.’

  The soldiers laughed, too.

  Skin explained the joke. ‘The General is making a play on words, BB. Part of the word pity is . . .’

  ‘Yes, I get it,’ snapped Napoleon. ‘I just don’t find it funny. In fact I find it pitiful!’

  Napoleon heard the cogs turning and he dropped a little further.

  ‘I’ll leave you to think about your future,’ said Alexander. ‘Right now, I have a battle to win. And for your sake, I hope it doesn’t take too long.’

  ‘Wait!’ Napoleon shouted. ‘Don’t leave me!’ But the general had already left.

  Napoleon stared at the writhing, hissing serpents below. He looked up at his hands, so tightly bound. There seemed no way out of this mess.

  ‘Looks like we have a Type A problem, Skin,’ he said.

  ‘Correction,’ replied Skin. ‘We have an AAA problem.’

  ‘An AAA problem?’ said Napoleon. ‘How can the problem be getting worse when I’m just hanging about waiting to die a horrible death by snakebite!’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Skin. ‘That is the first part of the problem. We are “hanging about”. Which leads us into the second part: the mission is still unfinished. There is another piece of contamination from the Battle of Kursk to be cleaned up. And it is heading this way.’

  Napoleon listened. He could hear a grinding noise in the far distance, faint but growing louder.

  ‘Noise identified: Russian tanks. They are on a victory charge. The Germans are retreating. They are blowing up everything in their path.’

  ‘Which means us, I guess, unless we move.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  Several loud booms followed and shells exploded nearby.

  ‘OK, Skin,’ said Napoleon. ‘What’s the third part of the problem?’

  ‘Time,’ Skin replied. ‘We are running out of it. Omega Phase is approaching. There is a Level 4 risk you could be locked in this Battle Book.’

  ‘So I’m going to be poisoned or bombed or locked in this Battle Book forever?’ shouted Napoleon.

  ‘Incorrect. All parts of the problem can be solved within the given timeframe, provided we move quickly. Sound judgment is of utmost importance here.’

  ‘Sound judgment?’ Napoleon looked down.

  Several serpents were slithering closer to his toes.

  ‘Can we talk about this later, Skin?’ he said. ‘I think what we need now is some sound action!’

  A large python was curling itself around Napoleon’s feet, while a cobra was drawing back its fanged head, ready to strike.

  ‘And when I say now, I mean right now!’ repeated Napoleon.

  ‘Activating Boot Boosters. Right now!’ said Skin.

  Blue flames burst from Napoleon’s sandals.

  The cobra’s head was cooked in a single blast and the python spiralled back into the pit in a ball of fire.

  ‘Lock in Level 4 Turbo.’

  Dark red flames burst from underneath the sandals, baking a whole bunch of snakes in one blast.

  ‘Fried snakes, YUM!’ Napoleon yelled.

  Another burst of flames followed and Napoleon was thrust upwards at a gut-wrenching speed.

  W . . . H . . . O . . . O . . . A!

  He shot out of the pit, landed on the edge, and whacked his skull hard on the rocky ground.

  He sat up slowly, his head throbbing with a roaring noise.

  ‘Apologies for the landing,’ said Skin. ‘HoverVest should have been used for a smoother touchdown.’

  ‘That’s okay, Skin. I’m just happy to be out of that pit and safe at last.’

  ‘Correction. You are out of the pit, but you are not safe.’

  ‘What do you mean?!’

  A shell exploded less than twenty metres away. Napoleon leaped sideways. Another shell exploded, even closer this time.

  That’s when he realised: the roaring wasn’t in his head at all. It was being made by Russian tanks.

  ‘A unit of KV-2s is less than a kilometre to the south,’ Skin reported ‘And two units of tank busters are coming in from the north. Relocation recommended ASAP.’

  ‘I have to get these ropes off first,’ Napoleon shouted. He leaned forward and held his wrists close to his sandals. ‘Turn on the mini flares, Skin.’

  Skin did so, and small jets of flame shot from the sandals. They quickly burned through the ropes.

  Napoleon sprang to his feet.

  ‘We need somewhere high,’ he said, ‘so we can get a good view of the contaminated scene from the Battle of Kursk and cut it out.’

  Two more shells exploded close by. Napoleon ducked.

  ‘Highest place possible is the sky,’ said Skin.

  Napoleon could hear another shell, whistling towards him.

  ‘Let’s do it, then!’ he shouted. ‘HoverVest plus Boot Boosters, Skin! All you’ve got!’

  ‘Immediate activation. Maximum thrust.’

  It was immediate.

  And maximum.

  Napoleon took off so quickly his stomach slammed into his ankles.

  Seconds later, a Russian shell slammed into the ground right where he’d been standing, leaving a huge crater.

  ‘Bombs away!’ Napoleon yelled as he rocketed skyward.

  In a few seconds Napoleon was high above the countryside.

  ‘Backing off on boosters,’ said Skin. Napoleon felt himself slow down. ‘HoverVest in Hover Mode.’

  Skin’s nano-gyroscopes powered in unison like tiny choppers, and soon he was floating.

  ‘This is the place to be,’ Napoleon cried. ‘Sky high.’

  The Pinarus River cut through a valley, joining the sea at a white-walled village.

  ‘That is the town of Issus,’ said Skin.

  The sound of the battle was raging on the coastal plain below.

  ‘And that’s the Battle of Issus,’ Napoleon said.

  ‘Affirmative. Excellent image. Recording details.’

  The thousands of Greek, Persian, Macedonian, Phoenician and Egyptian warriors looked like toy soldiers on a board game, except they were fighting in full fury.

  At first, the battle seemed like one crazy jumble. But as Skin recorded it, a pattern began to emerge.

  ‘King Darius is in his chariot near the Royal Canopy,’ explained Skin. ‘Segment 23C.’

  A grid pattern flashed in front of Napoleon’s eyes, and he spotted the brilliant white tent, its purple flag fluttering. Skin zoomed in to give Napoleon a view of Darius in his gleaming gold chariot, surrounded by guards of the Royal Cohort. Their armour shone in the sun.

  ‘Where’s Alexander the Great?’

  ‘Approximately one hundred and fi
fty metres to the left,’ Skin replied. ‘He is moving into Segment 14F as we speak. Tracking him now.’

  Skin zoomed in for a close-up view.

  Napoleon watched the general riding on his black stallion.

  ‘He is leading his Elite Cavalry through the Persian forces, and he is fighting like a lion.’

  Alexander was heading straight for Darius. Persian soldiers scrambled out of his way.

  ‘And it looks like nothing will stop him.’ Napoleon yelled.

  ‘Negative,’ replied Skin. ‘He will be stopped, and soon.’

  ‘What do you mean? Alexander wins the Battle of Issus. That’s history.’

  ‘Affirmative. But the intrusive force coming to stop him is not part of this history.’ Skin swivelled Napoleon’s head to the right. ‘Observe.’

  Napoleon gasped.

  Several hundred Russians tanks at full-speed battle-charge were about to roar over the hilltop. They would slam into the Greek and Persian warriors any second.

  Caught up in the Battle of Issus, Napoleon had forgotten about the bundle of contamination from the Battle of Kursk.

  ‘Prof!’ Napoleon screamed into his Battle Watch. ‘Hit Epsilon Phase. Now!’

  It was only a few seconds but it seemed to take forever. The tanks were at the top of the hill and were charging down the other side. Persian and Greek warriors were staring in bewilderment.

  Then everything stopped.

  The horror was frozen.

  ‘Epsilon Phase activated.’ Skin’s electronic voice broke the tense silence.

  Napoleon sighed in relief.

  So did the professor. ‘That was very close,’ she said. ‘Over to you, BB005.’

  Napoleon already had the Helping Hand palm screen operating. He quickly outlined the tanks and other armoured vehicles with his cropping tool, hit the cut button, and sent the contaminating scene to Professor Perdu.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘That only took 15 seconds.’

  But as the words left Napoleon’s lips, his left hand started shaking. Then his arm.

  ‘Aw, no. I forgot. All that battle stuff has to pass through me. I don’t like being a modem!’