by Nick Gifford
Just then he noticed a cage on one of the desks, with a wheel and a plastic sleeping compartment.
“Ah, you’ve seen our room-mate,” said Linley. “My pet hamster, Skiver. Nocturnal, I’m afraid. Makes a dreadful racket through the night... You get used to it.”
A hamster. Liam had kept a hamster once, a fat dark thing with a white band across its belly and up each side. It had been a long time ago. He couldn’t even remember the creature’s name.
~
Anders was fifteen. He shaved every morning, he claimed, and he had a girlfriend in Rendlesham House. He drank herbal tea and made sure that Liam knew exactly how to make the perfect cup. His father was some kind of Ambassador’s aide in the Middle East, and when Anders had passed the entry tests his parents had decided he should be schooled at NATS rather than live out there with them. So because he had passed the admission tests, Anders was what they called a Talent. If he had only got in because his parents were in the Diplomatic Service he would have been a Grunt, like all the Army, Navy and RAF kids.
Far better a Talent than a Grunt. Liam knew what he meant. The ones with a spark. The ones with shapes in their heads.
Anders talked a lot, too, which didn’t help the headache Liam had been trying to fight off all day.
Liam lay down and closed his eyes. Sometimes he got like this. The pounding in his skull. The sense of people pressing in. It was something to do with the things going on in his head, he knew. Something to do with the spark that made him a Talent and not a Grunt.
He put a hand to his forehead, then ran his fingers up through his short, mousey blond hair. He liked his hair longer. He couldn’t remember quite why he had gone for this severe crew cut. There was an irregularity in his skull up there, just above the hairline. A dimple. Sometimes it was as if all the pain was focused just below that slight hollow.
Anders was watching him from across the room. “It’s okay,” he said. “Time for dinner soon. You’ll feel better with some food in you.”
~
He was right. The food made it all better. It was nothing special, only a rather dried-up risotto, but the feel of that food sitting in his stomach was good, and Liam’s head started to clear.
They sat in the refectory with Tom and Pat McLeish, who had the room next to theirs. The two were twins, although not identical, a year younger than Liam and Anders. They had only just been granted the room this term – most Year Nines lived in six-bed dorms at the other end of Sherborne’s corridor.
The four of them sat eating and exchanging snippets about themselves. Tom and Pat were from Gosport and had been at NATS for three years now. They were Talents, of course. The Grunts and Talents tended to do everything separately.
Liam told them he had been staying with Aunt Katherine in Norwich, and before that had lived there with his father and gone to Hewitt School.
“What about your mum?” asked Tom. “Our parents divorced, but they’re back together again now.”
“She died years ago,” said Liam. “I can hardly remember her.” He saw the embarrassed looks on the others’ faces and added hurriedly, “It’s no big deal. Or at least, not now. It was a long time ago. I was only about six when it all happened.”
He was used to passing it off lightly like that. It was a long time ago and it was almost true that it was no big deal to him now. He had lived more than half of his life without her.
“So, who’s this then?” A girl seated herself in the space next to Anders. She had a gently rounded face and a mass of straw-blonde hair down to her shoulders. She pushed her tray forward and rested her elbows on the table, studying Liam closely.
Anders leaned towards her and put a hand on her arm. “This is the new chap,” he said. “I told you: my new tea-maker.”
She patted his hand. “And do you know, Anders dear? I bet if he’s like all the rest of us, he’s probably got a name, hasn’t he?”
“I’m Liam. Liam Connor.”
“Pleased to meet you, Liam,” she said. “I’m Hayley Warren. You just ignore Anders. It’s usually best.”
~
They worked them hard at NATS. He had been warned about that: it was a high pressure school. Everyone worked long hours, and if you were there on the Talented and Special programme there were extra demands with all the testing. If you didn’t make the grade you were filtered out. Lots of pupils only lasted a term or two before they were rejected, and you always had to be able to demonstrate that you were making progress.
They started lessons at eight in the morning, and worked through until four. They ate dinner at five, then from six to nine there were all kinds of organised activities, a lot of which turned out to be some form of training or testing, or yet more cramming of academic subjects. On the first evening, Liam found himself in the computer games suite, and even there he sensed that these games, with their challenges and puzzles, were just another form of assessment. Was each triumph, each gained or lost life, fed through to the school tracking system and marked against your record?
Anders and Hayley were a funny pair. Anders was going to be a good friend, Liam thought. He was always around, always helpful in his strangely off-hand way. And Hayley was fun, with her gentle digs at them both. She was a nervous person, Liam came to realise, twitchy like a sparrow. They both had the spark. Sometimes it felt like Liam had been reunited with a couple of old friends, but often Anders and Hayley would leave him on his own and slip away together – at lunchtimes and in the hour’s free time between last lesson and dinner.
On the Thursday of his first week, Liam was called down to the Principal’s office.
He knocked and was invited to enter.
“Connor,” said Mr Willoughby from behind his wide desk. There were a few papers scattered across the desk’s green leather surface, and a flat computer screen standing to one side. “Come in, come in. How are you finding your first week at the Academy?”
“Okay, sir. I mean, it’s fine, sir.”
“Good.” Willoughby pointed a finger at his computer screen. “As you know, we’ve been testing you this week, as we do with all new arrivals. We have to be sure that the right choices have been made. I’ve been looking at your results.”
Liam swallowed. So this was it. Not even a week here and he was falling behind. Surely they wouldn’t turf him out so soon?
“Relax, Connor. You have a very interesting set of results. We will be paying you close attention during what I expect will be a long stay at the Academy. Have you given any thought to extra-curricular activities? There’s a lot on offer.”
Liam shrugged, then realised that probably wasn’t an impressive response. Was even this interview some kind of test? “There’s such a lot to choose from,” he said.
“You should choose carefully,” Mr Willoughby told him. “We’re considering fast-tracking you into Senior House if you make the progress we anticipate. You should choose activities that would support this move.” The Principal paused, then added, “I’d recommend the Elite Forces Cadets.”
Liam nodded. He knew nothing of the Cadets, but he was game to try anything.
“Your room-mate Linley is in the Elites,” said Principal Willoughby. “Ask him about it. He’ll tell you how to enrol. There’s a meeting on Saturday. You should join.”
“Sir. I’ll talk to Linley.”
Now Willoughby smiled. Liam had a sudden feeling that a secret was being kept from him. “In case you needed persuading,” said the tutor. “I thought you might like to meet one of our new consultants. He’s working over at the Camp with the Wolsey Point Preservation Trust and he’ll be running some of the Elites’ sessions for us. We’re very lucky to have him.”
The door opened and a man walked in. He was a thin man, with dark blond hair, a square chin and a friendly, open smile.
“Dad!”
Liam turned and had hugged his father before he remembered himself and where he was. Embarrassed, he stepped back, but then he saw that Willoughby was smiling too. Maybe Liam
would be seeing a lot more of his father, after all.
13 Out with the Elites
They keep these kids imprisoned as effectively as if they were behind lock and key. They must have their reasons, wouldn’t you think? Maybe it’s a bit like dangerous chemicals and industrial processes: the modern world wouldn’t work without them, but they need to be kept away from the rest of us, behind protective barriers. They have to be contained.
~
Friday evening. Liam wandered on his own after school. He found that there was a network of paths through the gorse and brambles that grew beneath the pine trees and evergreen oaks.
Some went all the way down to the creek. From there, Liam could look across to the bulging spit of land known as Wolsey Point. He could see a few of the old military buildings out there. His father was working on a special project in the old Ministry of Defence site on the Point, something to do with enhancement and containment of dangerous resources, he had told Liam enigmatically. They would see more of it on Saturday, when the Elite Cadet Force was due to visit the Point.
He wandered back up through the trees, past a blackened area where someone had lit a fire, contained by round stones.
After a time, he came to a clearing where a strange old pine tree grew. Three trunks emerged at ground level, although from the way they were joined at the base it was clearly a single tree and not three growing closely together. Unlike the other pines, horizontal branches came out from this one from low down, and now he realised that someone was sitting on one of these boughs.
Hayley.
She spotted him and waved, beckoning him to come over.
“End of the week,” said Liam. “Seems like a long one.”
“Yeah, wasn’t it?” said Hayley.
He remembered that she was a member of the Elites and was about to ask her about it, when she spoke first.
“Tell me,” she said. “You’re new here. You’re seeing it all for the first time. Me. I’ve been here for four years. It’s like, all there is, you know?” She sucked on her lower lip, then went on. “Don’t you find this place a bit creepy? Like they’re always watching you? Playing with your head?”
Liam shrugged. Of course they did. They were being measured and monitored all the time. That was what they did at NATS. It was good, wasn’t it?
“I’m new,” he said.
She smiled uneasily.
Just then, Anders marched into the clearing. He gave Liam a hard look. “Connor,” he said. Then to Hayley he added, “What’s he doing here?”
“I... I just wandered by,” said Liam, realising that his room-mate might think he was some kind of a rival. He liked Hayley but ... well, he was no rival.
Anders flicked his head towards the path he had just emerged from. “Well, I’ll tell you what, Mr Connor. Why don’t you just wander off again? This is our place. Hayley and me. Three’s a crowd and all that.”
Liam shrugged and moved away along the path. He liked this place with the three-trunked tree. He felt comfortable here. It seemed to stir deep memories of somewhere similar. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t want to get in the way of Anders and Hayley. It was their place, not his. He carried on, scuffing his feet in the sandy soil and listening to the cries of the jackdaws high up in the trees.
~
They met in the Junior Common Room at nine on the Saturday morning. “Elite Cadet Corps” seemed a strange name for this odd assortment of pupils. The twins, Tom and Pat, were here, along with Anders and Hayley, a Japanese girl called Tsuki and some others Liam didn’t know. Most were Talents, but Liam was pretty sure that at least two of them lacked the spark and must be Grunts. This group were neither the most athletic nor the brightest pupils, but there must be something that bound them together. Liam wondered if they were all being fast-tracked into Senior House, but that didn’t seem likely with the two Grunts here.
Two adults joined them, Miss Carver and a certain square-jawed blond man – Liam’s father – who smiled at them all as he followed the teacher through the door.
“Okay, Elites, are we all here?” asked Miss Carver, looking around the room. She was one of the younger teachers at NATS, slim and dark-haired and full of spark. She caught Liam’s eye now, and he blushed. “Liam,” she said to him. “Welcome. I’m glad you could join us.”
Hayley kicked him on the ankle.
“Now,” continued Miss Carver, “as I’m sure the more observant among you have noticed, we have a guest with us today. Mr Connor is a special adviser to NATS. He’s here to put you through your paces and to contribute to your development and assessment. Mr Connor has extensive experience in this field and we’re very lucky to be able to make use of his expertise. I’m sure you’ll all make him feel welcome.”
As soon as Miss Carver had mentioned the guest’s name, Anders and Hayley had turned questioning looks on Liam. He looked down at his feet.
“Right,” said Liam’s father. “Hello, everyone. I’ve been involved with a project over at Wolsey Camp and today we’re all going to go across to work in the research facilities we have over there. It’ll be hard work, but it should be fun, too. Now: names. I have a list of names here, but I need to put them to faces. Let’s go through them. Tsuki Akimoto?”
“Here,” said Tsuki, waving her hand.
“Harry Baker?”
A ginger-haired boy Liam didn’t know raised a hand.
“Lucy Chiang?”
~
Mr Connor and Miss Carver led them through the trees to Senior House. A low mutter of conversation broke out as they realised they were actually going inside – Senior House was normally out of bounds.
Inside, it looked pretty ordinary. There was an open door on the right of the main entrance lobby, and two older pupils sitting on a desk peered out at them.
There was something about this place... Suddenly there was more pressure in Liam’s head. More shapes.
This place, this building – everything was very intense here.
The entrance lobby was an open, wooden-floored area, with lots of doors opening off it and a flight of stairs leading up to the first floor. Miss Carver led them round to the back of the stairs and Liam saw that here another flight led downwards.
They all followed her down.
There was another open area with doors leading off it. This part of the building was all very functional. Where upstairs there had been wooden-panelling and leaded windows, here there was a concrete floor and beige plaster on the walls. A thin, grey-haired man sat behind a desk, and he nodded at the two adults as the group gathered at the foot of the stairs.
They passed through a set of sliding doors into a square room, and when they were all inside, Mr Connor pressed a button. The doors closed, and then Liam realised that this room was actually a large lift. With a slight lurch, it started to descend.
He studied those around him curiously. No-one seemed surprised by any of this. There had been a buzz about entering Senior House, but now they all seemed to be taking it in their stride.
“That’s right, Liam,” said his father, moving over to join him. “They’ve all been here before. It’s just starting to come back to them.”
Liam looked at his father now, with surprise. How had he known...?
His father smiled at him, and he relaxed. It was good to be together again.
“The memories are masked,” his father explained. “The Elites’ sessions are very specialised. It’s where we really push the candidates for Senior House to see what they’re capable of. But we don’t want word getting out about these sessions, so the memories are suppressed. The Elites are only allowed to remember them when they come over here on subsequent sessions. It’s a very carefully controlled environment.”
“What are we going to do here?”
His father smiled. “You’ll see, Liam. You’ll see.”
They were interrupted by the lift coming to a halt. The sliding doors wheezed open, and Liam saw a long corridor ahead of them, lit by a strip light
that ran along the centre of the ceiling. The floor and walls were concrete.
It was a tunnel. A tunnel that must lead all the way under the creek to Wolsey Point.
~
There were two open-topped carts here, each with seating for one driver and six passengers. They seemed to be made of a grey plastic, with open seating and bars to hold onto. Mr Connor and Miss Carver each took the driving seats and waved the Elites aboard. The vehicles started up with an electric whine, and trundled along at a little more than walking pace.
Liam sat, transfixed. His seat faced forwards and he hung onto a grab-rail in front of him. He stared at the walls as they passed, and at the tunnel ahead. After a time, the floor started to slope gently upwards.
They emerged from the tunnel into a wide indoor parking area, where there were three more of these open electric cars, and about seven or eight Land Rovers and trucks. These were grey, too, and the doors were marked with the hovering tern logo of the Wolsey Point Preservation Trust.
Liam looked around. They were in some kind of hangar. One end of the building had collapsed, and patches of roof were missing. But Liam could see that the damaged areas were strategically propped up with scaffolding. This hangar must look ruined and long-abandoned from the outside, but in reality it was probably as sturdy and safe as it had ever been.
They followed the two Corps leaders outside.
A gull flew up, screeching at them in protest, and for a moment Liam felt another of those shocks of déjà vu, as if he had been here before. But then the moment passed. The hangar where the tunnel terminated was one of a pair of similar buildings. Here, from the outside, both looked little more than ruins, with roofing collapsed and partly-missing, masses of shingle piled up against the seaward walls, windows broken, and wild tangles of gorse and brambles growing all around.
They entered the second hangar.
It was like a small town inside, or a village, at least. Within the shell of the hangar there were three rows of smaller buildings, separated by two concrete streets. The buildings were mostly block-like prefabricated units, although a few were built from brick and concrete, and even had properly tiled roofs. There were cars here, too, and people walking between the buildings.
