‘These creatures are steam-powered robots,’ said Levanté. ‘Clockwork automatons of my own design.’
‘You will come with us.’
‘I am about to perform the final trick,’ said Levanté. ‘Are you ready?’
‘You will come with us.’
The second robot lifted its gun.
‘Thank you—you’ve been great!’ shouted Levanté.
He clapped his hands, and instantly vanished. The robots stood on the stage, motionless, for a few seconds. And then they disappeared too. The audience cheered and applauded, but Martin King and his friends were silent.
*
The crowd filed out of the tent, talking excitedly about what they had just seen. Martin was still quiet—he was thinking. Had the robots been part of Levanté’s act? Or had someone else sent them? Levanté had seemed genuinely scared.
‘Martin, look,’ said Darcy.
A man was walking towards them through the mist, a man with greying brown hair, wearing a tweed jacket and carrying a black umbrella. It was Mr Slater. He smiled at the three of them.
‘Hello,’ he said cheerily. ‘Well… how did it go?’
‘He refused to help us,’ said Martin.
Mr Slater sighed. ‘Ah, well. It was worth a try.’
‘You didn’t tell me he was your nephew,’ said Martin.
‘That would have only served to complicated matters,’ said Mr Slater. ‘But, yes, I am Levanté’s uncle. He is a stubborn man. I have already tried to acquire his help several times, but every time he simply refuses. I had hoped that the three of you would enjoy greater success.’
‘You should have told us,’ said Martin.
‘I am sorry,’ said Mr Slater.
‘Is he going to be OK?’ asked Darcy. ‘These robots appeared—they tried to capture him.’
‘Did he escape?’
Martin nodded.
‘Then he should be fine,’ said Slater. ‘Levanté is very adept at making sure he is not followed.’
‘This was all a waste of time,’ said Tommy. ‘We’re still no closer to finding the thing XO5 is after.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Mr Slater. ‘I have something to show you that may be of great help to you. Let us go to my ship.’
Chapter 5: Valiant Star
Mr Slater tilted his neck up towards the storm clouds as night rain poured down upon him.
‘The expansive hurricane grows on high. Across the black and gold tempested skies.’
Mr Slater had led them from Elton Quarry to a muddy field, and they stood shivering as the rain fell. The grass was sodden and a few miserable-looking cows were watching them. Mr Slater turned to the teenagers.
‘That was from an Earth poem I once heard,’ said Mr Slater, as the wind blew around them. ‘A poem about a storm.’
‘How does it end?’ said Darcy.
‘With sheer terror,’ said Slater. ‘A fearful face in the thunder’s eye. The day of the storm he sees.’
Darcy shivered. ‘That’s horrible.’
‘I know,’ said Mr Slater, looking up at the sky again. ‘Anyway, I stray from my purpose.’
‘So where is it, sir?’ said Tommy. ‘Where’s your ship?’
Slater pointed up. ‘Right above us.’
Tommy glanced up at the smouldering sky.
‘There’s nothing up there.’
‘Are you not forgetting something?’ said Slater, taking his Truthful Eye from his pocket.
‘Oh,’ said Martin, ‘of course.’
Martin took out the brass monocle, held it to his eye, and looked up. The ship was suspended twenty metres above them; it looked like a Victorian steam ship, except that the deck was completely enclosed and dotted with submarine-like portholes.
‘She is beautiful, is she not?’ said Mr Slater. ‘Her name is Valiant Star, and she has been my home for twelve hundred years.’
‘Why does it have sails?’ said Tommy, after Martin had passed him the monocle. ‘Surely if it’s a spaceship…’
‘The sails allow me to ride on the crest of solar winds,’ said the teacher. ‘Please, let us go inside.’
Mr Slater put away his monocle and took out his pocket watch. He activated a tiny switch and the ship became visible. Valiant Star slowly descended. Then a wooden ladder emerged from a hatch. They climbed the ladder, and entered the ship. As soon as they stepped inside, they became instantly dry.
‘Welcome to Valiant Star,’ said Mr Slater.
The ship’s interior was beautiful. The carpet was royal blue, and the walls were oak-panelled. A fire blazed in the slate fireplace, over which hung a large painting in a gilded frame. It was an Axis Lord, dressed in a green robe, his hand clutching a scroll.
‘That is my father,’ said Slater, gesturing to the painting, ‘Endragor Slater. He was an academic on Hope—really quite famous for his pioneering work on black holes. He died around 2000 years ago.’
Tommy went to warm his hands in front of the fire, and then he looked up at Mr Slater.
‘Sir, there's something I wanted to ask you,’ he said.
‘Of course.’
‘I was just wondering… if you’re an alien, why do you speak English? And why does your name sound so English?’
Mr Slater smiled. ‘Michael is a name I adopted quite recently. Back on my home planet I was known as Valdragor Slater, which means ‘strong of spirit’. I have used several aliases since coming to this planet. The answer to my spoken language is a little more complicated. The truth is—all Axis Lords carry one of these.’ Slater took out his gold pocket watch. ‘These watches have many functions, one of which is to translate our speech into the language of those to whom we speak.’
‘So which language do you really speak?’ said Tommy.
‘I speak several languages, but my native language is Uolian. It was devised thousands of years ago as a universal language, but now only Axis Lords speak it. Observe.’
Mr Slater deactivated his pocket watch translator, and then began to speak in an incomprehensible language.
‘But… I can still understand you,’ said Tommy.
‘Impossible,’ said Mr Slater. ‘My translator is not active.’ He paused. ‘No, wait. My translator does not only allow me to speak English—I also need it to understand English… So how can I understand you now? What language are you speaking?’
‘I’m speaking English,’ said Tommy.
‘You cannot be,’ said Slater. ‘You must be speaking Uolian.’
‘I’m speaking English,’ insisted Tommy.
Mr Slater switched his translator back on, and turned to Martin and Darcy.
‘Did you understand any of that?’
Darcy shook her head. ‘No.’ She turned to Tommy. ‘How did you do that? You were speaking another language.’
‘Then it is only you, Tommy,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Only you can speak Uolian. But how…?’
‘I wasn’t speaking Uolian!’ said Tommy. ‘I was speaking English!’
‘You weren’t,’ said Martin. ‘We couldn’t understand a word of what you just said.’
‘You realise what this must mean?’ said Darcy. ‘Falcon’s dust must have worked. And that’s your special power, Tommy. You can understand other languages!’
‘Of course,’ said Slater, ‘That would explain it. Well, you are blessed. Omnilinguism, or the power to speak every language, is a rare power indeed.’
‘So I speak every language?’ said Tommy. ‘So… so I’ll be able to visit any country and understand what everyone is saying?’
‘Not just any country, but any country on any planet,’ said Mr Slater. He paused. ‘So Falcon used Axis Dust on you?’
Tommy nodded. ‘Yes. Actually, now I come to think of it, I did feel something strange yesterday morning. Like a sort of heat, growing inside me. Could that have been anything to do with my power?’
Mr Slater nodded. ‘Such a feeling is normal at the moment that Axis Dust has finished its work. Falcon was wise. Havi
ng special powers will be a great advantage to you.’ He turned to Martin and Darcy. ‘Have either of your powers manifested yet?’
They shook their heads.
‘Well, it can take a few weeks. Anyway, back to our purpose. I have something of great importance to show you. Please, sit.’
Slater gestured to four leather armchairs that were placed around the fire. As they sat, Slater reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket and took out a small polished brass sphere. It was about the size of a cricket ball, and the fire’s reflection gleamed on its burnished surface.
‘This is a Monograph,’ said Mr Slater. He handed it to Martin, who turned it over in his hands. It was very smooth, except for one tiny seam through the centre. It was engraved with the number 321.
‘Its function,’ Mr Slater went on, ‘is to hold an imprint of an event—much like a video camera does on your world, only this is far more advanced. I found this particular Monograph five years ago, at a car boot sale of all places. Some passing customer had evidently tried to open it, because I picked up its faint signal and managed to trace it. A bargain at fifty pence.’
Mr Slater took the Monograph and grasped it with both hands, twisting the two sides.
‘Imagine,’ he said, ‘an artefact from my home planet, sitting on an old table beside grotesque ornaments and board games with missing pieces.’
The Monograph opened up into two halves connected by a tiny hinge. Mr Slater placed the Monograph on the centre of the table, and a beam of light shone out, resolving into a square. It was like some sort of video screen hanging in the air.
‘Translation—Earth, English,’ said Slater. ‘Now, this Monograph is of particular interest to us, because I believe it concerns the object which XO5 seeks.’
The Monograph began to play. The projection showed a man dressed in a white lab coat. His white hair and purple eyes made it obvious that he was an Axis Lord.
‘This is Axis Archive Monograph 321. My name is Dr Zego Thay, chief scientist at the Institute for Scientific Advancement. I am about to perform an experiment concerning the—’ BLEEP!
‘What was that?’ said Martin.
Mr Slater did not reply.
Dr Zego Thay took a vial of blue liquid and poured it into a test tube. He picked up something very tiny with a pair of tweezers, and dropped it into the blue liquid.
‘I have added a microscopic sample of the—’ BLEEP! ‘—to a stable bio-suspension solution. I will now proceed to pour a small amount of the solution over three prepared geometric shapes. The shapes are made from a simple polymer material.’
Three red cubes lay on the doctor’s work surface. He poured a drop of the blue liquid over the first cube. With a popping sound, it turned into a sphere. The doctor was evidently astounded, but he managed to control himself and continued with the experiment. He poured the liquid over the second, and then the third cube. The second cube turned into a triangular prism, and the third turned into a star.
Dr Zego Thay put the test tube back into the rack, his hands trembling.
‘It seems our fears were justified. The—’ BLEEP! ‘—is unsafe, and as such, must be hidden in the—’ BLEEP! ‘—by order of the Great Charter. This location should keep it safe from malevolent access. Let us pray to the Wheelmaster that this is the end of the matter.’
The projection disappeared and the Monograph closed itself again.
Mr Slater exhaled slowly. ‘You will have noted that the name of the subject of the experiment was censored from this recording.’
‘So it’s not really much help, is it?’ said Tommy.
‘On the contrary,’ said Mr Slater, ‘it is a great deal of help. We do not have the name of the object, but let us consider what the Monograph does tell us. Firstly, that the Axis Lords were sufficiently frightened by this object that they decided to hide it away.’
‘Yes, that’s what Falcon told us,’ said Tommy.
‘Secondly,’ Slater went on, ‘we can suppose that this object has enormous power—so much so that even the tiniest speck could transform three shapes into different ones.’
‘I don’t really understand what happened on the video,’ said Darcy. ‘Why did those shapes change?’
‘I believe that this object has a staggering creative power,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Further, I also believe it to have… a functioning mind. The transformations you saw were not the product of some random reaction, but that of a thinking organism.’
‘So this object—it’s something living?’ breathed Darcy.
Mr Slater nodded. ‘Yes, I believe we can deduce that much from the Monograph.’
‘But it still would have been a lot more helpful if the name of the object hadn’t been bleeped out,’ said Tommy.
Mr Slater smiled. ‘Then you may be in luck. I mentioned previously, Martin, that I have certain useful contacts. Well—today one of them provided me with a name.’
He handed Martin a tiny slip of paper, which read:
HARVEY LONGFELLOW 321
‘I doubt you will have heard of him,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Harvey Longfellow is well-known in certain circles for his collection of priceless peculiarities. He collects anything bizarre or inexplicable, as long as it is unique.’
‘So… so this Harvey Longfellow has another one of those Monographs?’ said Martin.
‘Yes,’ said Slater. ‘I believe so. You see, when a Monograph is censored, the Axis Lords usually keep the original hidden away somewhere, so I have always had reason to hope that the uncensored version still existed. Over the past five years I have tracked down no fewer than eight Monographs on this planet. But none of them have been the one I wanted.’
‘But now you’ve found it?’ said Darcy.
‘According to my contact, Harvey Longfellow recently bought a Monograph at a private auction. Obviously, he has no idea what it is, but he was wise enough to realise that it is something special and unique. Harvey’s Monograph is engraved with the number 321—the same as this sphere. All the evidence suggests that Harvey Longfellow owns the Monograph we seek.’
‘So we have to steal it from him,’ said Tommy.
‘Tommy!’ said Darcy. ‘We’re not stealing anything.’
‘No, Darcy,’ said Martin, ‘I think Tommy’s right. We have to get our hands on that Monograph. Then we’ll know exactly what we’re looking for.’
‘We could talk to Harvey—make a bargain with him,’ said Darcy.
Mr Slater shook his head. ‘Harvey Longfellow is not a man you can bargain with.’
‘If these Monographs came from your planet, what are they doing on Earth?’ said Tommy.
‘That is another puzzle, I am afraid,’ said Mr Slater. ‘My only guess is that they may have been left here along with the object itself. But how they ended up in a car boot sale and in a billionaire’s collection is beyond me.’
‘Either way,’ said Martin. ‘We’ll find it. Then we’ll know exactly what XO5 is looking for. And we’ll be able to find it first.’
Mr Slater smiled. ‘I’m very glad you feel that way. I am afraid I will have to leave the three of you to come up with a plan to steal the Monograph; it is unwise to meddle too much with the predictions of a Foreteller. However—’ Slater pulled out a velvet bag from his pocket. ‘—I hope that these will be of use to you.’
Inside the bag were three thin necklaces. They were made of a white metal, and glittered strangely. A crescent-shaped pendant hung from each necklace.
‘These are Deceiving Necklaces. Their purpose is to disguise one’s appearance. In fact, I use a Deceiving Necklace myself in order to appear human.’
Slater handed each of them a necklace.
‘I have programmed the necklaces to add thirty years to your ages. Do not worry—the effects will only last while you are wearing the chains. Please, try them on.’
The teenagers put on the necklaces. Suddenly, they looked as if they had aged thirty years. Martin’s skin was older, his hair was thinner, and he had lines around hi
s eyes. He glanced at his hands, which were larger and rougher. They glanced, fascinated, at one another.
Darcy caught a glimpse of her reflection in Slater’s monograph, and grimaced.
Martin nudged her. ‘Now you know what you’ve got to look forward to!’
‘Charming!’ replied Darcy.
‘Just remember that the effects will only last while the Deceiving Necklaces are around your necks,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Observe.’
He slipped his own necklace from around his neck. Instantly, he was visible in his true form—his hair became white and his eyes became a vivid purple.
‘You must retrieve the Monograph,’ said Slater. ‘The whole mission may depend on it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Martin. ‘You can rely on us.’
But can we rely on you? thought Martin, remembering again the sinister voice he had heard coming from Mr Slater’s office.
‘Good,’ said Mr Slater.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ said Tommy. ‘Why didn’t your people just destroy this object? I mean… why keep it if it’s so dangerous?’
‘My people never throw things away,’ said Slater. ‘Even the most deadly object may prove to be useful in the future. Hundreds of different worlds contain artefacts considered too dangerous to be kept on Hope or the other Axis planets.’
‘So they would rather put another world at risk?’ said Darcy.
‘Yes,’ said Mr Slater. ‘They would.’ He pulled a red folder from a shelf. ‘This is a dossier that I have compiled about Harvey Longfellow. You will find virtually everything there is to know about the man within.’
Slater also handed them an envelope. ‘There are two hundred pounds inside this envelope, which should be enough for your expenses.’
Tommy tried not to look too excited. Martin opened up the dossier. A picture of Harvey Longfellow stared at him from the first page. He was portly, with grey hair, small eyes and a coarse complexion. He was wearing an expensive suit, and a shirt that didn’t match.
As Martin stared at Harvey Longfellow’s photograph, it suddenly occurred to him why he was helping in this quest—it was because of Darcy. He looked at her. She was still wearing the necklace, so she looked nearly fifty, but if he had the chance, he would still kiss her there and then, right in front of the others.
Martin King and the Space Angels (Martin King Series) Page 4
