“Hello, you two!” he called out in a thick accent as he approached. “I have a question for you. Do you happen to know the Famous Four? My friends and I heard that they go to school here and we want to try and find them! The trouble is, we can’t remember what any of them look like!”
Will looked at Finley in bewilderment. Seeing a look of panic creep onto his friend’s face, he hastened to take control of the moment.
“Trust me, you don’t want to meet the Four,” he told the boy, shaking his head to emphasise the point. “They’re awful.”
“Is that so?” the boy asked with scepticism, looking at Finley for confirmation. Will raised his eyebrows in encouragement.
“Yes, that’s right,” Finley nodded. “They’re horrible people. Fame went straight to their heads. Apparently, they refuse to even leave their bedrooms without an entourage.”
“A robot entourage,” Will added. “One that has been known to use their stun guns on people who ask for autographs.”
“Is that why there are so many robots at your school?” the boy questioned them, his mouth hanging open with the shock of the revelation.
“Exactly,” Will told him, fighting hard to keep his expression neutral. “They threatened to sue the school unless extensive security was installed.”
“They sound very unpleasant,” the boy scowled. “Perhaps it’d be best not to try and approach them.”
“Definitely,” Finley agreed. “If I were you, I’d steer clear. Rumour has it, they charge five credits a minute for a conversation with a fan.”
“Five credits a minute!?” the boy repeated, flabbergasted by the thought. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll spread the word.”
He ran back over to his friends to inform them about what he’d learnt, leaving Will and Finley to collapse into a fit of silent laughter.
That afternoon, Miss Fortem summoned the school to the Gathering Hall for a special Assembly, which was to be taken by Herr Weber. Will, Emily, Finley and Lois filed into the hall with the rest of their year group, taking seats in the second row and staring with interest at the middle-aged, rotund man who was standing on the stage, his hands clasped together as he patiently waited to begin his address. Standing statuesque beside him was Miss Fortem, dwarfing the stout man with her straightened posture, her height stretched to its full advantage. Once the Academy students had sat down, the twenty or so guests from Weltraumschule strolled in, standing at the foot of the stage in an area that had been designated especially for them. Herr Webber’s eyes glinted with joy as he started to speak, his boyish face the picture of delight as he coughed loudly to gather everyone’s attention.
“Good afternoon,” he beamed. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Herr Webber, and I am the Headmaster of Weltraumschule. I am ecstatic to be here with all of you on today and have felt extremely welcomed by all of you here at the Space Academy. It is a wonderful thing for our schools to join together for this competition, creating a friendship that I hope will last for many years to come. Of course, our schools have competed in the past, but never has a Headmaster or mistress been so generous as to invite us to stay at the Academy. I must say, my students and I are extremely impressed with what your school has had to offer. The serving robots in the Dining Hall are ingenious, and the lake on the grounds is a beautiful sight to behold. It is a great honour to be here, and it is clear to see why the Space Academy is renowned amongst our fleet of ships.
“Even more exciting than our stay here is the news that Miss Fortem has arranged for her security bots to escort us onto the Mayfly once the competition has finished. I’m sure you can imagine how grateful we are to be granted an exclusive look inside the ship that leads our quest to Novum. We are also ecstatic to have been given the opportunity to meet Alfie Sommers, the most famous Captain of them all! To show our appreciation, we have decided to give The Space Academy a gift.”
He gestured towards the Gathering Hall’s doorway, which opened to reveal the shining, silver nose of a small rocket. After a brief moment of anticipation, the rest of the perfectly engineered spacecraft appeared, pushed into the room by two strong-looking Weltraumschule students, its streamlined body gleaming in the artificial light. Staring at the beautiful spacecraft before him, Will was certain that he had never wanted anything more in his life, his eyes misting over as though he were regarding his long-lost love.
“This is the Blitzrakete, the brand-new model of rocket, exclusively produced on der Pionier- the German equivalent of the Mayfly. The rocket features state of the art technology, and our experts predict it will become the most popular personal rocket by the year 2115. Now, I must stress that our Rocket Racing team have been prohibited from flying the Blitzrakete until after tomorrow’s competition, in order to keep the race fair. However, I have decided to give this particular rocket to a lucky member of the Space Academy’s racing team, and I will be watching closely to determine which competitor shows courage worthy of possessing such a wonderful gift.”
The sound of whispers went up in the room as the Academy students turned to one another, speculating as to who would receive the Blitzrakete. Will’s heart leapt with ecstasy as he pictured himself being presented with the honour, the possibility of winning such a prize doubling his desperation to perform well in the race, his fingers twitching as he practised tapping combinations into an imaginary rocket’s control pad.
“Thank you, Herr Weber, for your generous contribution,” Miss Fortem smiled, taking control of the Assembly. “I’m sure I speak for everyone on our Rocket Racing team when I thank you for offering such an amazing prize to our star performer tomorrow. Your donation is received with gratitude and is hopefully the first of many steps towards building a lasting friendship between our schools.”
Herr Webber nodded graciously, bowing his head and stepping back to allow Miss Fortem the floor.
“Now, I’m afraid I must send my students back to their classes,” she announced, causing a loud groan to echo around the hall. “After all, academia must come first.”
“As you wish, Miss Fortem,” Herr Webber agreed.
With a snap of his fingers, he sauntered from the stage, the Weltraumschule clan following close behind him as they made an organised exit from the hall. Once the last of them had disappeared, Miss Fortem ordered the teachers to begin shepherding the Academy pupils into the Reception Hall, sending them off to attend the last of their afternoon lessons. Will read the timetable on his Student Planner, realising with a mounting sense of dread that Galileo class would be finishing their day with double Arithmetic.
Begrudgingly, he made his way into the lift, cramming beside Emily, Finley and Lois, along with the rest of their class. Before Will had a chance to prepare himself, the elevator lurched into life, ascending towards Mr. Calcon’s classroom, which Finley, had dubbed “the Lion’s den”, a phrase he had picked up during his meetings with the Earth Appreciation Society.
“Hi Will,” Matina grinned, grabbing his arm as the lift full of students exited into the corridor of quotations. “I can’t wait to see you fly tomorrow. I’m so excited.”
“Thanks, Matina,” Will nodded, his miserable outlook brightened by her presence. “I hope I’ve done enough preparation. I don’t want to embarrass myself like I did during the try-outs.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Matina re-assured him. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be you who wins the Blitzrackete.”
“Don’t get his hopes up,” Emily snapped, speeding up to walk beside them. “Will’s never even competed in a proper race yet. Rachel Schoestein and the other team members have been competing for years. It’s unlikely he’s going to outperform any of them.”
“Thanks for the support, Emily,” Will said sarcastically.
“In all fairness, she’s probably right,” Finley quipped, having overheard their conversation. “Apparently, Herr Weber is distantly related to Rachel Schoestein, so he’ll probably give the rocket to her.”
�
��How do you know that, Finley?” Lois asked him with bewilderment.
“I used to read I-Books about the elite society when I was younger,” he shrugged. “I thought it might help me if I ever got into the Academy.”
“Did you read anything about me?” Lois questioned him, her eyes flashing with curiosity.
“I did read your father’s biography, once. It mostly detailed his life on Earth and the high position his family held in Government. It was nothing about you in there, but there were a few paragraphs about your mother.”
Lois’ face fell, the mention of her mother causing her mood to sour.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mother,” Matina chimed in, ignoring Will as he tugged on her sleeve in a futile attempt to stop her from speaking. “What does she look like?”
“She’s dead,” Lois said bluntly, causing Matina’s mouth to fall open in horror.
“I’m so sorry, Lois” she gasped. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” Lois shrugged. “It was a long time ago. She caught a disease that spread over the Mayfly when we were children. A few people died from it, but my dad told me my mum didn’t suffer”
“That’s strange,” Finley frowned. “The book I read said your mother died of natural causes. There was no mention of a disease.”
Lois opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Calcon, striding down the corridor with impatience and ushering his students into class. Desperate to avoid the teacher’s cold, metal stare, Will ducked his head down, dashing into the classroom and taking his seat with urgency. Not wishing to incite Mr. Calcon’s wrath, he pulled the tablet from his desk and began working on his Trigonometry download, terrified that any slacking off would put him in danger of experiencing the robot’s notoriously harsh punishments. Despite his best efforts to concentrate, he found his mind beginning to wander, filling with daydreams of himself flying through Space in his personal rocket, the Academy students cheering wildly as he led the rest of the racing team to victory against Weltraumschule.
His fantasies of the event occupied his mind for the duration of the two-hour Arithmetic lesson and proceeded to distract him for the remainder of the day. He sat zombie-like through his evening meal, his mouth hanging open as he visualised every possible outcome of his first racing event, favouring, in particular, the scenarios which resulted in his glory.
When dinner was over, Will went to his bedroom alone, laying out his spacesuit and helmet in preparation for his early morning start. Convinced that his nerves would make sleep impossible, he clambered into bed, ordering his personal bot- Billy- to wake him up at five-thirty sharp the following day. After staring at the ceiling for the best part of forty minutes, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself drifting off, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins for most of the day subsiding to make way for a deep and peaceful sleep.
When his eyes snapped open the following morning, Will was overcome by a powerful sense of determination, pushing him out of bed with vigour as he silenced the shrill alarm emanating from somewhere within Billy’s mechanisms. Too exhilarated to be scared any longer, Will strode from his room and out of the second-year the dormitory, speeding through the grounds and into the main school building, where he jumped into the lift, ascending to the Launch Bay where the competition would begin.
Entering into the large, steel hangar, Will found his fellow teammates standing in a tight huddle, their arms folded as they discussed their tactics in hushed voices. Noticing Will’s arrival, Spencer flashed him an awkward smile, gesturing for him to stand in the space beside him. Will shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he moved to join the circle, the pressure he felt to perform well in the race mounting with each passing second.
Before anyone had a chance to speak, the door to the Launch Bay flew open, revealing the famous Rocket Racer, Symon Schoestein, swanning into the room with his arms outstretched in a collective greeting. Will’s mouth hung open as the tall, middle-aged man approached them, unable to believe he was seeing one of his heroes in the flesh. Upon reaching the team, Symon began to beam from ear to ear, flicking his grey hair out of his eyes as he pulled Rachel into a tight embrace, squeezing her tightly between his rough hands.
“Hello, my wonderful niece,” he said, his voice resonating from every corner of the room. “So lovely to see you.”
“Hello, Uncle Symon,” Rachel smiled. “I’m glad you could make it today.”
“Of course!” Symon exclaimed. “I usually try to avoid public appearances, but when I was asked to commentate at my Rachey Roo’s first international racing event, I could hardly say ‘no’ now could I?”
Trying to conceal his amusement over the nickname “Rachey Roo”, Will stepped forward with his teammates and shook Symon’s hand, wishing he was brave enough to ask him for an autograph. Once Symon had properly introduced himself, he busily attached a small headset to his ear, tapping on the microphone as he tested its functions. Will swallowed as Rachel ordered the team into their rockets, instructing them to prepare for launch as Symon commenced his commentary.
“Good morning, students!” Symon boomed, his voice echoing from a large speaker system in the spectating area, erected at the edge of the school’s protective biodome. “It is with great pleasure that I welcome you all to the first international racing competition between the Space Academy and Weltraumschule. I now ask that the teams prepare themselves for take-off, whilst I briefly run through the rules.
“Now, as I’m sure most of you watching are aware, school racing and professional racing are two vastly different events. In professional racing, a group of highly-skilled flyers are let loose in an enclosed stadium, each one vying for first place- which I might add, I personally have won no fewer than fifteen times during my successful career, but I digress. In a school competition, two teams of seven are released into Space, the aim of the event to complete a complicated obstacle course as fast as possible. The first person to cross the finish line receives two-hundred points for their team, the second one-hundred and fifty, the competitor in third place is awarded one-hundred points, and so on. At the end of the race, the team with the most collective points will be declared the winner. So, it is without further ado that I ask each team to prepare for launch. The race will begin shortly.”
Will and his teammates steered their rockets along the metal tracks that lined the floor, arranging themselves into a staggered formation at the entrance to the tunnel.
“Where are Weltraumschule launching from?” Will asked Spencer, having expected to see their opposition arrive for take-off.
“They’re using the private launch bay in Miss Fortem’s living quarters,” Spencer called back from the rocket beside his. “We’ll see them at the starting line.”
Will shuddered as he remembered the one and only time he had seen Miss Fortem’s private Launch Bay, back when it had belonged to Admiral Allance. He didn’t have long to dwell on the ordeal, however, as Symon began counting down from ten, indicating the start of the race was imminent. His heart racing, Will flicked a switch on his control pad, causing the rocket's glass roof to snap over his head as the engine hummed into life, vibrating beneath his feet as he stood at the helm of his spacecraft.
On Symon's command, the racers zoomed into the tunnel, entering into the silent, vacuum of Space beyond. Following Rachel's lead, Will and his teammates navigated their rockets over to the starting line, where Weltraumschule’s competitors were already waiting. A set of lights were suspended in the air, flashing red as they awaited to signal the beginning of the race. Will glanced over his shoulder, noting the semi-circular stadium of seats facing out towards them, which had been built to hold the entirety of the Academy’s student population. He couldn't hear anything through the glass of the biodome, but he was able to see his fellow students cheering, some of them getting to their feet to clap as the lights at the starting line switched to amber.
With only seconds to spare before the event would begin, W
ill took a quick scope at the obstacles he would shortly be facing. The same hurdles from his try-outs had been placed at strategic intervals, requiring the racers to duck and weave around them, careful to avoid the steel jaws of several metal hoops that were floating imposingly around the track, their inner circumference covered by sharp, jagged spears. Will was surprised Miss Fortem and Herr Webber would allow such dangerous items to be part of the event, but he supposed that their ominous appearance had been designed to add extra suspense to the competition.
Will didn’t have much time to contemplate the matter, however, for moments later the lights turned green, causing Will and the other thirteen racers to surge forward in a flash, each one vying to pull ahead of the group as they soared towards the obstacles. Will felt a wave of endorphins flood his brain each time he overtook one of his fellow contenders, swerving and diving as he bypassed his own teammates, his sense of comradery diminished by his desire to win.
After dodging past a disgruntled Rachel, Will pulled up behind Weltraumschule’s Captain Heidi, who was neck and neck in first place with Spencer. Will swung his rocket left and right as he looked for a gap between their rockets, hoping to force his way through to the front, the finish line looming in the distance. He was about to take his chances by overtaking them, when something glinted in his peripherals, causing him to swivel his head around as he attempted to find the cause of the distraction. His mouth fell open with shock as he saw a fleet of Miss Fortem’s security bots flying through Space towards him.
Instinct informed Will that something was terribly wrong, and he pulled his rocket up, ascending just quickly enough to avoid the frightening army of robots crashing into him. Their heads bent with determination, they zoomed forward, swarming around Heidi’s rocket as they clawed and scratched at the metal, their strong arms pulling as they attempted to rip the spacecraft apart. Heidi began to panic, spinning out of control as she was knocked off-course, her rocket catapulting into the edge of one of the speer covered hoops. The jagged spikes pierced into the attacking robots, who fell from Heidi’s rocket as she rolled through the obstacle course, metal splinters flying into the air around her like pieces of silver confetti.
The Secret Society (The Mayfly Series Book 2) Page 17
