by Sue Bough
Norman swallowed. “A friend told me about them and how they invaded our Planet many years ago. I wondered if you could tell us more?” He managed to speak despite the fact that next to him Ern was squashing his toes, desperately trying to silence him. Barely stifled sniggers were erupting from Whinge & Co behind him.
“I wish I could tell you that they were the things of fairy tales,” Ilona’s eyes were sad as they rested on Boris Whinge, who was immediately quiet, “but your friend is right. Drones are part of our history and are part of our reality now. What must be, must be, and we cannot change that. Warriors have fought them in the past and new Warriors will be called upon in the future… although they may not know it yet.”
“… new Warriors will be called upon in the future…”
These words had the strangest effect on Norman, who felt as if he wanted to run far away, yet at the same time fight anything in his path. For some reason, the Elder Poggle was gazing at his toes. They began to tingle.
“Thank you, Elder Quinn.” He sat down.
“We have time for one final question, I believe… Well, alright then, Boris Whinge.” Miss Lastic grudgingly gave Boris the floor.
“What is your favourite Telescreen programme?”
*
Norman was grateful that hooting practice had been stepped up a gear due to the forthcoming anniversary celebrations. Both Ernie and Boris were called away during break time, and he was able to find a quiet bench in the playpod to think. He found himself repeating the words of the Elder Poggle over and over in his head.
‘Drones are part of our reality… What must be, must be…
may not know it yet…’
He had the uneasy feeling that her words had been aimed at him. It made him very uncomfortable. What with the Professor going on about his toes, and now this. He felt as if he were being prodded into the centre of a huge stage and he wasn’t at all sure what his lines were or what the play was all about. He had a nasty feeling that the Drones were a part of it, though.
He shook his head. “Come on, Norm, snap out of it,” he told himself. “You’re thinking crazy thoughts. Everyone knows you’re more of a worrier than a Warrior!” He chuckled over his own joke as he made his way to his next lesson.
Astronomy with Mr Astra was normally an enjoyable subject. Mr Astra’s Data-Helmet would produce a myriad of twinkling stars, planets and asteroids, which whirled gracefully above his head while he identified various interesting features in a soothing voice. By the end of a lesson, the class was usually calm and a little sleepy.
Comets were today’s subject, and a bright white flash of light made a perfect orbit around Mr Astra’s ears as he spoke.
“Now, a comet is really a big chunk of ice with a tail – usually made up of a load of dust it is dragging behind it. You might call it a dirty snowball, in fact.”
Norman didn’t think this was a very flattering description for the beautiful streak of light brightening the entire classpod.
“When the comet’s orbit takes it towards any bright star, like our Sirius or the Earth’s Sun, its tail blazes as you see now. They normally pass every hundred years or so but of course we don’t usually see them.”
“Why not, Mr Astra?” Theresa Green posed the question.
“Well, you would need to see the sky in the dark to be able to view them and, of course, we Poggles live on the Light Side of our Planet where it never gets fully dark, even in our night-time. The only way for us to see them would be to go to the Dark Side – but I wouldn’t recommend it.” Mr Astra laughed nervously.
“Luckily for us, we do have a record of the last time a comet passed us, and if you select screen seven hundred and thirty-three on your Data-Globes you can read an account of it that was filed at the time.”
The class busied themselves with button-pushing and scrolling through menus. Words floated in the air past Norm’s nose and an image of a huge comet appeared. He read, with waning interest, of how one had passed extremely near to the Dark Side of the Planet almost a hundred years ago. It had been almost as bright as the Dog Star itself.
Norm felt his eyelids droop as the report went on to describe, in great detail, the different types of comets, the structure of their tails and whatnot. He scanned down to the bottom of the page where the last word caught his eye. Scott. The report had been written by a Poggle called Scott. For some reason this fact began itching away at Norm’s brain as if it ought to mean something. He glanced at Ernie to see if he’d noticed anything but Ern was already on the next screen and reading on obliviously. Norm shook his head to clear it and the niggling thought went away.
The rest of the day passed quickly, although just as Norm was leaving, Miss Lastic reminded him pointedly about his homework deadline. “The end of the week is tomorrow, don’t forget. No excuses this time.”
“Tell you what, Norm,” whispered Ern sympathetically after she had gone, “why don’t we pop up to the surface after tea? We can grub around for a bit then see what we can find?”
“Thanks, Ern,” Norm replied gratefully.
The light was already fading to twilight, as dark as it ever got on this side of the Planet, when the Poggles, accompanied by a contented Spong, reached the surface. They decided that a trip to the Wasteland was probably out of the question at this hour. Neither of them really felt like experiencing the smell again, although their new friend, the Professor, had invited them to drop in at any time.
They set to. Ern began prodding rocks and poking enthusiastically at the green dust beneath. Norm made a show of searching but found himself rather too preoccupied with the day’s events to concentrate. As the light faded further, Ern unclipped a jar of Firelighters from his utility belt and shone it into the dark cracks and crevices of a large rock. A moth-like insect appeared and bumbled around the jar, banging its head as it did so. Ern tried to shoo it away but it persisted and flew up his hooter, making him sneeze.
“Stupid thing.” He sneezed again. The bedraggled moth reappeared and fluttered off hastily, to dry its damp wings. Ern carried on searching while Norm watched from a safe distance over his shoulder, still deep in thought. The sound of chuckling roused him from his ponderings.
“What is it, Ern?”
“Look at this!”
Norm and Spong watched as Ernie lifted a small stone and shone the Firelighter on a purple beetle that was now frantically trying to dodge the beam of light directed at it. Ern herded it into a small pen of sand he had created but it ran nimbly over the top and dived for the nearest stone again.
“Hee-hee, you can’t escape that easily,” he chuckled as he lifted the lid off the creature’s world once more and sent it scuttling across the dust. Spong strained on his leash, eager to sniff and investigate.
“Why do you think it’s behaving like that, Norm?” Ernie tried to engage his half-interested friend in conversation.
“I don’t know,” Norm replied absent-mindedly. “Maybe it’s just afraid of the light.” As soon as the words left his mouth he felt as if a huge comet had made a detour on its orbit and had shot between his ears, lighting up the darkest corners of his fuzzy brain. He understood now why ideas were sometimes drawn as light bulbs above the head.
“Eureka!” he yelled, startling his friend so badly that he dropped the Firelighters. The purple beetle shot off as fast as its legs could carry it, and Spong squeaked excitedly.
“You what?!” cried Ern in fright, looking around wildly for a clue to Norm’s sudden outburst.
“Eureka!” Norm repeated, grinning and dancing on the spot. “I’ve got it! They’re afraid of the light!” He skipped around again like a maniac, then stood stock still. “We have to tell Professor Zube!” And before Ernie could say another word, his once sane friend disappeared off in the direction of the nearest Zube Tube.
Ernie had no choice but to follow.
A Cunning
Plan
Ten minutes later, Ern was still bewildered. Norman had been rambling on since they’d got there. At first the Professor had been preoccupied with his experiments, staring despondently first at the model of the Waste Dome, then at the green globe in his hand which had even more brown sludge inside it. Gradually, Professor Zube began to register what Norm was saying, and he turned to listen intently to his visitor.
Suddenly there was a shout of, “Great Scott! Of course!” and the two of them quite frankly became as bad as each other.
They were now dancing around and flapping their arms like demented chickens, with Spong jumping up to join in the excitement.
Poor Ernie felt like an outsider at a brilliant party. He had no idea why they were making such a fuss about a stupid beetle that didn’t like the light – it was ridiculous.
At last he’d had enough and said quite crossly, “Will someone please tell me what on the Planet is going on?”
Norm and the Professor spun round. They had almost forgotten Ernie was there.
“Great Scott! Of course!”
“I’m sorry,” his friend apologised. “I’ve been so desperate to talk to the Professor, I haven’t explained anything to you – you must think we’ve gone mad.”
“I am a little puzzled, I’ll admit.” Ernie didn’t have the nerve to say he thought they were both bonkers.
“Well, it’s like this…” Norm began, “I’ve had a fuzzy head all day…”
His friend resisted mumbling, ‘So, what’s new?’
Norm continued, “I mean, obviously I’ve been thinking about what happened last night and what the Professor said about the Drones being back – but it’s more than that. There’s what Elder Quinn said about them as well – how they were part of our reality, as well as our history, and what must be, must be. She knew they would be coming back, too – it’s inevitable.” Norm looked encouragingly at his friend, who was still none the wiser.
“I don’t see why that makes you happy, though,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, then there was Mr Astra’s class today where we learned about comets.” Ern continued to look blank. “I just had the feeling that there was something important about them coming around every hundred years or so – but I didn’t know why. Then I spotted the name of the Poggle who had seen the last comet and that started going around in my head, too.”
“Who was it?” Ern asked quickly.
“Scott!” Norm said triumphantly.
“Wait a minute…” Ernie paused, “wasn’t he one of the last Long-Toed Poggles who survived the Great War? The one who went up to the surface to face the Drones?” Ern was getting excited too.
“Yes!” cried Norm. “Exactly!”
“But… but…” Ernie looked crestfallen. “Nope, I still don’t get it,” he sighed.
The Professor chuckled quietly and nodded at Norman to go on.
“It was actually you who solved the mystery for me,” Norm said to his friend kindly. “It was when you were playing with that beetle on the surface and you asked me why it ran away from the light.”
“Yes, and you said it must be afraid of it but – so what?” Ern was still grasping at straws.
“Well, it suddenly came to me that if a tiny bug can be afraid of the light, why can’t bigger things be afraid of the light too? Drones, for instance. It would have to be a really bright light to scare them off, though… something massive, like—”
“A comet!” shrieked Ern, finally catching on.
“You’ve got it!” cried Norm, waltzing his friend up and down the room delightedly. “The comet scared them off! Drones are afraid of the light!”
“Oh, my clever young Poggles – I think you could be right. It would certainly explain why they live on the Dark Planet and took over the Dark Side of ours. Now, to check the facts…” He skipped off down the room to a shelf of books and ran his finger along them, sending dust flying into the air. “A… B… C… Yes, here we are – Curries, Comets… This is it.” He skipped back towards them, leafing through the book. “Scott was right – a massive comet called Hiya Pop was seen from Earth at the same time as Scott reported his sighting. Whew!” the Professor whistled. “What a brave Poggle he was. Not only did he leave the safety of underground, but he must have travelled to the Dark Side as well in his search for the Drones. Yes, the dates all tie in with the end of the Great War, ninety-six years ago!” The Professor grabbed the two small Poggles by the arm and danced them around the room again, knocking over several piles of papers as he spun them.
Finally they collapsed, exhausted, into the comfy armchairs, and the Professor chatted breathlessly.
“Oh, it’s not a moment too soon. I’m so glad you came straight here and told me. You see, I’ve worked out what the Drones are building and it’s not good news.”
Norm and Ernie stopped grinning.
“A UV ray, of course.”
The Poggles looked blank.
“Goodness me, the schools these days – surely Mr Ree has covered this in Science? U–V… ultra violet? No?”
Norm and Ern squirmed and both felt as if they were failing this examination dismally.
“Is it something to do with rainbows?” Ern had a flash of memory.
“Indeed it is, Poggle! Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain! I’ve lost you again, haven’t I?”
The Poggles nodded; they hadn’t a clue who this Richard of York chappie was or what he had to do with rainbows.
“It’s quite simple. You know what the colours of the rainbow are – Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet – well, ROYGBIV is a bit hard to memorise, so that’s why we use the Richard of York thingy – it’s called a mnemonic, which is just a fancy way of saying ‘something you make up to help you remember something else’. I use ’em all the time. For instance, I never leave the house until I’ve had a SPIT.” Two bemused faces stared at him. “Socks, Pants, Itching Powder and Trousers, of course – can’t leave home without those!”
Considering Poggles didn’t wear pants or trousers, this did nothing to enlighten them and, quite frankly, had Professor Zube forgotten these on Earth, someone would have reminded him pretty quickly, so it was a poor example all round. Neither could they fathom out why a full-grown person would need itching powder – but they were too polite to ask.
“Well, never mind about that. The point is, we can see the colours of the rainbow and when you mix them all up they make white light (it’s true, Dear Reader, try it), which of course is no good for Drones. So, they use ultraviolet – invisible light waves that they can see quite clearly with their specially adapted eyes. It’s a bit like wearing night-vision goggles. Anyway,” (sensing he had lost them once more) “the Drones use these UV rays to see where they’re going. The further they need to travel, the stronger the UV rays they need. Judging by the size of the construction going on, I’d say they’re planning quite a journey.”
Norm and Ernie gulped. Neither of them wanted to ask the obvious question on their minds. The Professor answered it anyway.
“I think you both know what this means,” he said solemnly. “The ray is pointing directly towards the Dark Side of our Planet, and by the look of it it’s nearly finished.”
It was a while before anyone spoke. The realisation of the impending horror made speech impossible. The Poggles simply sat, blinking rapidly. Finally, Professor Zube stood and broke the silence.
“We need a plan – and fast,” he said, striding over to a workbench nearby and proceeding to search in the various wooden drawers and boxes around it. In no time, the bench was littered with light bulbs, candles, ping-pong balls, string, rubber bands and anything else the Professor could lay his hands on. He began connecting rubber bands together, then shook his head and took them apart again. Next, he lit the candle and stared at it for a full five minutes without moving. Suddenly, he sprang into l
ife and started making scribbled notes in a book while muttering to himself.
Norman and Ernie exchanged glances, not sure whether to stay or go. The muttering and scribbling continued, then Professor Zube fished a strange looking light on a piece of thick elastic out of a drawer and proceeded to strap it onto his head. On Earth, these contraptions are common, especially in mines where the miners attach them to their helmets so they have their hands free to work in the dark. The Sugar Rock miners on the Green Planet would have laughed their socks off at this (had they worn socks). Their daily work was well lit by the swarms of Firelighters which were attracted to the sugary walls of the mine.
The Professor switched the light on and started moving his head from side to side, watching the beam and making notes. Ernie was beginning to get bored. He picked up a small object from a nearby bench and began fiddling. It had a glass dial with the numbers one to twelve around it. In its surface he could see another laboratory reflected back at him, with a miniature Professor Zube working at a scaled-down bench. Ernie twisted the object so he could see Norm in the glass, staring at his toes. As he moved the reflection back to Professor Zube, the light from the Professor’s headlamp caught the dial and bounced onto the walls of the Laboratory. Ernie smiled and spent the next few moments happily directing the spot of light around the room, up and down the bookcases and across the rows of coloured jars which lit up like traffic lights in turn.
Seeing the light, Spong gave chase, and Ernie quite forgot his two companions were there as he sent the little creature whizzing round faster and faster until—
“Eureka!” shouted the Professor, shielding his eyes from the glare from the watch (for that is what the object was).
“Oh, sorry!” gabbled Ern. “I didn’t mean to shine it in your eyes; I was just…”
“You fantastic Poggles! You’ve done it again!” continued the Professor.
