‘They haven’t,’ said Martin. He paused, unsure of how much to tell the woman. ‘We were kidnapped by pirates. I don’t know what they wanted, exactly. They talked about selling us as slaves.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said the woman, stroking Martin’s arm. ‘And such a pretty face, too.’
Darcy coughed loudly. ‘So what do you want?’
The woman looked affronted. ‘I only want to help you. You see, if you want, I can use my teleportation device to send you home.’
‘We don’t have any money,’ said Tommy. ‘Unless you accept eMunie, that is.’
The woman laughed. ‘I am a Thieron. We are an honourable race—not a bit like the rest of the avaricious money-snatchers that inhabit this world. I do not ask for money.’
The woman stroked Martin’s cheek.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Martin. Martin King.’
‘Do you want to go home, Martin King?’
Martin nodded. The woman was very close to him now—he could feel her breath on his cheek.
‘OK,’ said the woman, getting to her feet. ‘You can all use my teleport, free of charge. I’ll just set the coordinates…’
‘Are you sure?’ said Martin. ‘Thanks!’
‘Anything for such a pretty face,’ said the woman.
Darcy snorted loudly, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘It’s all set. All you need to do is touch the sphere. Go on, all of you!’
They did as she said. As soon as they all placed their hands upon it, the woman activated a switch.
‘It was nice to meet you all,’ said the woman. ‘Especially you, Martin King. Goodbye!’
The woman leaned forward and kissed Martin on the lips.
‘That’s my boyfriend, you—’
But Martin didn’t hear the rest of Darcy’s words. There was a bright light, and the teleport booth faded away.
Chapter 16: The Wicked Physician
A horse-drawn carriage clattered over the stony pavement. Martin looked around at the foggy street. They were back on Earth, but something was wrong. He had the feeling that everybody was staring at them.
Tommy picked up a newspaper that was lying on the ground.
‘Martin,’ he said quietly. ‘Look at the date.’
Martin took the newspaper. It was a copy of the Weekly News and Chronicle, and it was dated Monday, July 7, 1851.
‘But… that’s impossible,’ said Darcy. ‘It must be a trick.’
Martin shook his head as another carriage went past.
‘No, I don’t think so, Darcy.’
‘But… we’ve…’
‘We’ve gone back in time.’
‘That stupid woman must have made a mistake,’ said Darcy. ‘She sent us back to the right planet, but the wrong time!’
Martin put an arm around her.
‘It’s going to be OK, Darcy,’ he said. ‘Let’s just stay calm and try to come up with a plan.’
‘What plan? We’re never going to get back home. We’re never going to see our families again. The last time I checked the Victorians didn’t have time travel technology.’
Martin didn’t really have a reply to that, so he just hugged Darcy more tightly.
After Darcy had calmed down a little, they decided to explore. They headed down the main street, walking past various shops. An old man frowned at them as they passed.
‘I suppose we look strange to them,’ said Tommy, looking down at his black jeans.
‘Let them stare,’ said Martin.
They turned down a side street and looked in the windows of the shops as they passed. There was an apothecary, a sweet shop, a toy shop…
A shop caught Martin’s eye. The sign outside read Addison & Co.
Martin stopped to peer through the window. Many strange items were on display—conjuring tricks, rainbow powder, magic charms.
But it was the painting that had caught Martin’s attention. It was a snowy landscape, dotted with silver trees. A figure stood in the scene, a figure with white hair and golden mechanical wings.
‘Look,’ said Martin. ‘Does that painting look familiar?’
Darcy gasped. ‘It’s Hope.’
It was strikingly similar to the scene that they had witnessed using Fire Opal’s VDS machine.
‘And that’s an Axis Lord,’ said Tommy. ‘I wonder where it’s from.’
‘Let’s find out,’ said Martin.
A bell tinkled as Martin entered the shop. It was dimly lit inside, and a thin streak of sunlight illuminated spirals of dust. A man sat at the counter reading a newspaper. He looked up when Martin entered.
‘Good morning,’ said the man. ‘Can I help you?’
Martin could barely disguise his surprise. It was Levanté.
‘Don’t you recognise us?’ said Martin. ‘It’s me, Martin!’
‘I have never seen you before in my life,’ he replied.
It took Martin a few seconds to understand. The man was Levanté, but he hadn’t met them yet. He had said that he was exiled over a hundred and fifty years ago. If the date was 1851, Levanté had only recently started his exile.
‘Sorry,’ said Martin. ‘My mistake. Well, my name’s Martin. Good to meet you.’
‘My name is Mr Addison. What can I do for you?’
‘Er—we were wondering about the painting outside.’
‘What of it?’ said Levanté.
‘It seems familiar,’ said Martin. ‘It almost seems… alien.’
‘Look,’ said Levanté, pulling a bag from a drawer. ‘I do not know who you are, or what you want. But this bag contains ten sovereigns. Please—take it, and vanish.’
Martin took the bag. Inside were ten large gold coins.
‘We don’t need your money—’ Martin began.
‘Take it,’ Mr Addison insisted. ‘I have plenty. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?’
Martin hesitated. He didn’t know how much he should tell Levanté.
‘We’re from the future,’ said Martin. ‘And we were sent here against our will. Do you know why anyone would want us brought here?’
Mr Addison hesitated.
‘We know that you’re an Axis Lord,’ said Martin. ‘Please tell us what you know.’
Mr Addison paused. ‘Strange things are afoot in London.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Darcy.
‘Many travellers have been arriving over the past two weeks. And by travellers, I mean travellers from other worlds.
‘Every hotel room in London has been fully booked by aliens in human disguises. They have all been coming to Earth—representatives from every planet, every interstellar business, every crime ring in the galaxy—all converging on Victorian London.’
‘So what are they after?’ said Tommy.
Mr Addison shrugged. ‘As a far as I know, they are all here for the auction.’ He handed Tommy a small card:
THE FINAL AUCTION.
JULY 7, 1851. TWO O’CLOCK.
39 GROSVENOR SQUARE.
MAYFAIR.
‘The Final Auction?’ said Tommy.
‘That’s today. What’s being auctioned?’ said Darcy.
Mr Addison shook his head.
‘I don’t know. I keep myself to myself. But whatever they are all after, it must be the lot of a lifetime.’
Martin frowned. Aliens in Victorian London? It couldn’t have been an accident that the woman had sent them back there. An enormous plot was unfolding—and he was somehow a part of it…
‘Now,’ said Mr Addison. ‘Believe me, I really do not wish to be rude, but I really do need to get on with my—’
The bell tinkled as the shop door opened again. A tall, thin man wearing a top hat walked in.
‘Good morning, Mr Addison,’ said the man.
‘Ah, good morning, Dr Stahlman.’
‘I trust you are well?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ The tall man turned to the te
enagers. ‘Are you three busy?’
‘Er… not really,’ said Martin.
‘Excellent,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘I require some help carrying my scientific instruments to my coach. Are you willing to give me a hand?’
‘I suppose,’ said Martin.
‘Thank you,’ said the man. ‘It won’t be easy work—the boxes are quite heavy.’
‘Nothing is ever easy,’ said Tommy.
‘Once my equipment has been shifted we will do something about your clothes. We cannot have you three walking around London like this.’
‘You talk as if you know us,’ said Darcy.
Dr Stahlman looked her directly in the eye.
‘Well, I do know you. You are Darcy Williams, you are Tommy Walker, and you are Martin King. I have been waiting for you for a very long time. You see, I was once good friends with a man named Falcon…’
*
‘Here we are,’ said the man. ‘These two crates both need lifting into my carriage. If you two could carry that box, and I will carry this box with Martin.’
Tommy and Darcy took hold of one of the crates and followed Dr Stahlman outside. They lifted the boxes carefully into the carriage.
‘Lovely,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘Thank you very much. Now, are you carrying the Deceiving Necklaces that Falcon gave to you?’
Martin nodded.
‘Fabulous. Put them on, please.’
Martin took out his Deceiving Necklace from his inside pocket at put it around his neck; Darcy and Tommy did the same.
Dr Stahlman pressed a button on his pocket watch and their clothes changed. Darcy was instantly wearing a dress, and Martin and Tommy were wearing smart frock coats.
‘Much better,’ said the man. ‘Now, will you ride with me? We have much to discuss.’
The teenagers got into Dr Stahlman’s carriage.
‘The Great Exhibition!’ he shouted to the driver.
The carriage was luxurious; the seats were leather and the walls were panelled with oak.
‘Let me begin from the beginning,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘Do you know why you are here?’
‘Levanté—I mean, Mr Addison—mentioned something about an auction,’ said Tommy.
Dr Stahlman smiled.
‘Indeed.’ He paused. ‘You see, Falcon instructed me to bring you here. An auction is taking place, and it is necessary that you are present.’
‘Yes, but why?’ repeated Darcy.
‘I do not know all of the details,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. But Falcon will be arriving soon. He will be able to explain everything to you.’
‘I thought Falcon was on trial?’ said Tommy.
Dr Stahlman shook his head.
‘He managed to escape.’ He paused. ‘I am not an Axis Lord; I am simply a human doctor. I recently designed a machine for curing insanity—with a little of Falcon’s help. I first met Falcon many years ago on one of his visits to Earth.’
Martin frowned. ‘Falcon’s been to Earth before? When we met him I got the impression that it was his first time.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Stahlman. ‘Of course, I am sure you will have much to discuss when he finally arrives.’
Martin looked out of the carriage. They were moving down a wide street; the sun overhead was hot and bright.
‘So where are we going now?’ said Tommy.
‘The Great Exhibition,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘My machine—the Mind Sweep—is one of the exhibits. It probably will not be of much interest to you, but it is my life’s work. I will show it to you briefly, and then we will proceed directly to the auction.’
Ten minutes later, the carriage arrived outside an impressive iron and glass structure. It was almost like an enormous greenhouse.
‘This is it,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘The Great Exhibition. Thousands and thousands of items are on display from all over the world. Of course, the British displays are the pride of the exhibition. Come with me.’
They stepped out of the carriage and followed Dr Stahlman into the Great Exhibition. The variety was amazing—machines, statues, pieces of art, jewellery, fine clothing. Martin had never seen such a wild array of curiosities under one roof.
‘Here we are,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘This is my Mind Sweep.’
The doctor directed them to one of the smaller stalls. A large human-shaped statue sat on an ornate throne, and something that looked like a brass crown was on top of its head. The crown was connected to a large wooden machine by means of insulated copper wires.
‘My life’s work,’ said Dr Stahlman proudly. ‘Just imagine—you are suffering from madness, delusions, or paranoia. Simply attach the Mind Sweep to your cranium, pull that first lever, and your mind will be swept clean of all illness.’
Martin took a step towards the statue. It was certainly a very impressive looking machine.
‘Please, try it on,’ said Dr Stahlman.
Martin stepped quickly away from it.
‘Er, no thanks,’ he muttered.
‘Ah, but I insist!’
Dr Stahlman clapped his hands together and suddenly everyone inside the Great Exhibition froze. Martin took a step up to Darcy; her face was fixed in a slightly frowning expression.
‘She cannot hear you,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘Nobody can hear you. Everyone in the city has been suspended. You see, I told you a lie earlier. I am an Axis Lord, and I have the power of controlling time. It amuses me that you are carrying a Truthful Eye. If you had simply used it…’
Martin pulled out the monocle and lifted it to his eye. Dr Stahlman had white hair and purple eyes.
‘You cannot escape,’ said Dr Stahlman.
‘What do you want from me?’ said Martin.
‘Quite simply, your brain.’
‘My brain?’
‘Yes. I forgot to mention another function of my machine. If I pull that second lever, your mind will be converted into digital form, allowing me to break it apart, thought by thought.’
Dr Stahlman clapped his hands again and Martin was instantly frozen to the spot; unlike the others, however, he was still conscious. But he couldn’t talk, and he couldn’t move. He stood, helpless, as Dr Stahlman brought over the brass crown and tightened it around his head.
‘Now, this may well hurt,’ said Dr Stahlman. ‘And for that I apologise.’
Martin wanted to scream, but he couldn’t open his mouth. Dr Stahlman pulled a lever—sparks flew from the machine—and everything went black.
*
Martin was standing in an entirely black space. He took a few steps forward. He felt like he was standing on solid ground, but there was nothing above, below, or to the sides of him. His surroundings were utterly empty.
‘Hello, Martin,’ said a voice.
Martin turned; a man of about twenty-five was approaching him.
‘That was close,’ said the man. His voice was a rich baritone. ‘You were nearly killed.’
‘Where am I?’
‘This will be very hard for you to understand,’ said the man. ‘Please, sit.’
Two white chairs appeared in the emptiness, and they sat down.
‘First things first,’ said the man. ‘Let me introduce myself. My name is XO5.’
Martin jumped up from his chair.
‘What did you say?’
‘Well, there’s no need for that. Please, sit back down.’
Martin cautiously took his seat again.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Martin slowly. ‘How can you be XO5?’
‘Oh, the body, you mean? Of course, I am a shapeless force with no real physical form. I designed this manifestation so that I would appear more… acceptable to you.’
‘So what do you really look like?’ said Martin.
‘Tricky one. I don’t really look like anything. But I can select any form I choose.’
‘And where are we now?’ said Martin.
‘We are in a sort of… micro-dimension. It’s hard to explain, but to put it simply, I can’t exist in your universe and you
can’t exist in mine. This is a sort of compromise, a neutral ground, so to speak.’
Martin nodded.
‘So what do you want with me?’ said Martin.
XO5 grinned.
‘This is going to sound very tiresome—and I’m sure you’re sick to death of hearing it—but I want your brain.’
Martin made to get up again.
‘Please! I don’t want to steal your brain, if that’s what you’re worried about. Look, let me explain everything fully. If you choose not to cooperate, I will not force you. OK?’
‘How can I possibly trust you?’ said Martin. ‘After everything you’ve done, after all the planets you’ve destroyed?’
‘Just listen to me, please. First of all, you must understand that the idea you have of the Wheelmaster being the hero and of me being the villain is false.’
‘That’s a lie,’ said Martin. ‘I saved the Earth from you. If you had had your way the Earth would have been destroyed.’
‘True,’ admitted XO5. ‘But I’m trying to make you understand the importance of perspective. To you, the end of the human race would have been a tragedy of almost unimaginable proportions. But such a view is insupportable.’
‘How dare you?’ said Martin. ‘How dare you say that?’
‘I don’t mean to upset you,’ said XO5. ‘I’m just trying to get you to see the bigger picture. Despite what you have been told, I don’t simply destroy. I also create. All of the planets wiped out by me have been reborn—under different names, with different inhabitants, in different parts of the universe—but reborn all the same.
The Wheelmaster doesn’t destroy, but he doesn’t create, either. He adores boredom and stagnation, and will do absolutely anything to resist change. I am the opposite. I stand for enlivening, for shaking things up.’
Martin stood up. ‘I’ve had enough of listening to this. There’s no way that you can justify the destruction of a planet.’
XO5 laughed. ‘You’re not listening to me, are you? I understand your point of view—really, I do. But can’t you see that your status as a created being makes your vision so limited?
‘I have great respect for you Martin. I do. I really do. You are far more like me than the Wheelmaster. There’s nothing you like more than a nice bit of chaos.
Martin King and the Space Angels (Martin King Series) Page 13
