Send Simon Savage #1 (4 page)

There was a short silence before the Chieftain raised his jewelled right hand. ‘I am most displeased. However, our work will go on. Did you find gold?’

‘The treasure room is full of gold plate, gold bars, all sorts of gold,’ Damien confirmed.

‘And there are guards?’

‘There are four but they are often sleepy. They drink a lot of wine.’

The Chieftain crossed his arms over his broad chest. ‘You will steal the gold in two days’ time. So make sure your companions are ready. Who will you take with you now?’

‘My other sister—Alli,’ Damien said. ‘She’s worked with us a few times already.’

‘Yes, she’s reliable,’ the Chieftain replied. ‘And you can take that new boy. His name?’

‘His name’s Lee. Yes, Chieftain, he’ll make up the team.’

The Chieftain waved his hand dismissively. ‘Very well, you may go.’

Damien stood, bowed and turned away. He crossed the flagstone floor of the cave and retreated through a doorway carved out of the solid rock. He didn’t look back.

For ten seconds, the chamber remained silent.

‘Has he gone now, O’Bray?’ the Chieftain asked. ‘O’Bray, where are you!’

A thin, bald man dressed in a black robe entered the cave through the same doorway. ‘Yes, boss, I heard you. He’s on his way back to the Big Forest.’

‘Then switch on the lights! Douse those stinking candles!’

O’Bray flicked a switch hidden inside a tiger skull. The cave filled with electric light and the Chieftain pushed back the hood of his robe. He blinked in the brightness and ran a hand through his long, straggly white hair.

‘Get me some decent clothes to put on—and a strong drink!’ he growled.

‘Yes, boss. Right away, boss,’ O’Bray replied, snuffing out the candles. The Chieftain was in one of his dark moods. It was best to obey him without question.

6

S
imon entered Mayfield Manor’s main classroom, slid into the nearest seat and slumped down. Green light shimmered off the walls.

‘Savage, be more punctual in future,’ Cutler said from the seat behind him.

Simon glanced back. ‘Yeah, okay. Sorry … sir.’ He was trying to get used to addressing senior staff as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’. He didn’t like it much. But the Bureau was run on semi-military lines, with much of the discipline centred on punctuality, smart manners, pressed clothes and tidy rooms; and punishments that included grubby kitchen-cleaning duties or dozens of early morning laps around the jogging track. Simon was only now remembering to make his bed every morning.

Cutler made a hushing motion and nodded to the speaker at the front of the room.

Professor McPhee was Head of the Time Bureau. In the past few days, Simon had learnt that McPhee was in charge of the whole organisation, while Captain Cutler was responsible for its day-to-day operations.

The professor wore a crisply tailored dark suit, and had close-cropped hair and a beard that Simon imagined would be grey in normal light, but was currently a sickly green. The colour came from a hologram at the centre of the podium. It was a three-dimensional image of a temponaut—a figure nearly twice the professor’s height. ‘This gives you a pretty accurate look at the travel suit and equipment issued to every time traveller,’ McPhee said.

Full of curiosity, Simon leaned forward. The computer-generated figure was clothed in a thick, body-conforming suit, with a helmet and faceguard. Chunky-soled shoes integrated seamlessly into the outfit. On the outside of both thighs there were zip pouches for carrying documents and small pieces of equipment.

‘Of course, it is more than a suit,’ McPhee said. ‘Several of you have asked why we took skin and hair samples from each of you.’

There was a murmur of agreement.

‘That’s easily answered,’ he went on. ‘We took your genetic material and combined it with special fabrics and memory polymers to make a biodynamic suit that is very much like a second layer of skin. It organically becomes part of your body while you wear it. Each suit is individually made. You might say it is
grown
for you. Every time you travel you wear a new suit.’

Using a remote control, McPhee made the figure rotate. ‘In addition, the suit is waterproof. It will protect you against extremes of heat and cold. The helmet can also be retracted, like this …’

The Professor clicked the remote and the holographic helmet retreated over the head of the figure, like liquid skin, and disappeared into the collar of the suit.

Simon glanced at the fair-haired girl who had been last off the bus. She was still looking wary, glancing continually at every person and every part of the room, and twitching and shifting in her seat, as though she didn’t want to be there. Her edginess irritated him. Why had they recruited someone like her? Didn’t they want people who were steady and reliable? The girl looked in his direction. Simon focused back on the professor.

‘The suit also provides camouflage when you need it,’ McPhee was explaining, as he brought up a pattern on the holographic figure. ‘It takes on the colour and patterns of your surroundings, such as trees and foliage, even bricks and timber walls. But of course, when you travel to another time, you will often be issued with the clothing of the era to cover these suits.’

He brought the figure to a stop. ‘The main feature of your suit is this: it contains countless billions of nano-molecules that retain an exact memory of your body shape. Your size, the colour of your eyes and hair, everything. It allows us to convert your body to pure energy and transmit you across time. The nano-molecules then re-form your body at your destination. Now, any questions?’

The Chinese boy put up his hand. ‘What you just said about transmitting us across time. How do we get from place to place, and from time to time?’

McPhee nodded. ‘Good question. The technology is based on the Time Accelerator, of course. And the use of Time Positioning Satellites, timelines and wormholes.’ He stepped closer to the front row of seats. ‘You’ll learn more about this during the tour of our establishment later today. But, basically, what happens is as follows: before you depart on a mission, we send a Time Positioning Satellite—or TPS—ahead of you, to open up the timeline to your exact destination. Then, you enter the Travel Chamber.’

‘What we call the Spin Box,’ Cutler added.

‘Exactly. You enter the Spin Box,’ McPhee went on. ‘Your body is dematerialised and you reappear through a wormhole at your destination. Sometimes, the TPS will stay and hold the timeline open. At other times, it will depart, and return to fetch you at a pre-programmed time. Understood?’

‘Yes, Professor,’ the voices murmured around the room.

‘Any other questions?’ McPhee asked.

The black girl shifted in her seat. ‘So, sir, why do you use kids as temponauts?’ she asked in a clear voice with an American accent. ‘Why not use adults?’

‘We have used adults until now, mainly volunteer soldiers,’ McPhee replied, ‘but we get only nine, maybe ten missions out of them before health issues start to become a problem. We need people who can go on many time-trips. Temponauts who are aged between eleven and fifteen, and who weigh under forty-five kilos, are best. The lighter you are, the easier it is to dematerialise and rematerialise your body and send it through time.’ He held his arms out. ‘We adults are too big. After ten or so missions, it’s dangerous for us. The body starts to change, to age and to deteriorate. This is not the case with children.’

Simon raised his hand. ‘Nice threads, Prof—but how do you take a leak?’

A burst of laughter swept the room and McPhee allowed himself a smile. ‘Well, that’s right to the point. Astronauts are often asked that sort of question.’ He paused. ‘The suit has a built-in feature that allows you to release the fabric around key areas of your body. Don’t worry, full instructions are provided. Satisfied?’

The students nodded and grinned at each other.

‘Anyway, I know you’ll have other questions just as, ah, fascinating as that one,’ McPhee said, ‘and we can answer them during the tour of our facilities.’ He clicked the remote, the hologram disappeared and fluorescent light filled the room.

‘Something else to think about,’ McPhee added, lifting a hand to scratch the beard that was, indeed, grey. ‘Just as importantly, you will be learning a couple of interesting things about time travel. One, that it is not only the present that is real, but the past and the future, too.’ McPhee peered thoughtfully at the group. ‘Secondly, that what you can do today, you can also do yesterday and tomorrow.’

There were murmurs of incomprehension around the room.

‘That’s deep!’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘Beats me.’

‘Okay, that’s all!’ the professor said. ‘Just one further instruction. Don’t forget to fill out your Training Request Forms. You can ask for additional training in any area of our operations that interests you personally. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, Professor,’ everyone replied.

‘Right, that is all for the present. You can spend a few minutes introducing yourselves, then we go on our tour,’ the professor said. ‘We’ll start at the front steps. See you there in ten minutes.’

As Simon left his chair, he was bumped aside by the spiky-haired boy. He seemed in a hurry to get to the door first.

‘Watch it, sport!’ The boy grinned. ‘Don’t get in my way!’

‘Watch it yourself!’ Simon retorted.

‘That’s Nick Spenser,’ a voice said beside him.

Simon turned to the tall Chinese boy.

‘I’m Ivan Ho,’ the boy said. ‘This is Taylor Bly,’ he added, introducing the American girl.

‘They reckon we’ll all get together and socialise a bit later,’ Taylor said, ‘but most of us got to know each other on the bus already. This time-travel stuff is crazy, isn’t it!’

‘Excuse me, Savage,’ Cutler interrupted, ushering Simon aside. ‘There is someone we want you to get to know. Right away.’

Why is Cutler singling me out? Simon wondered.

The fair-haired girl sprang to her feet.

‘Hi, Simon,’ she said, pushing out a hand to greet him. ‘I’m Danice.’

Simon shook her hand. He was surprised by her firm grip. She was easily ten centimetres shorter than he was but, up close, he could see she was wiry and had muscular arms and shoulders. ‘So, where are you from?’ he asked.

Danice glanced uncertainly at the professor.

‘Danice is from a long way away,’ McPhee said smoothly.

‘Actually, she’s from another time altogether,’ Cutler added.

‘We hope you two will get to know each other,’ McPhee said.

‘So, how did they find you?’ Simon asked Danice.

Danice looked at the professor again, once more unsure of how to answer.

They recruit all kinds here! Simon thought to himself.

‘We did a deal with Danice to enable her to work here,’ Cutler said. ‘You don’t need to know any more.’

Simon glanced at Danice, but her closed expression told him nothing. He turned to the professor. ‘Do you want me to show her around?’

‘More than that,’ McPhee replied. ‘From today, you two will work together. She’s your partner.’

Simon felt a moment of confusion. Where had this partner idea come from? ‘Sir, that’s not what you told me at my first interview. You said we worked alone.’

‘I think I said that we’d train you to be self-sufficient and resourceful,’ Cutler replied.

‘Big words that mean whatever you want them to mean,’ Simon muttered under his breath.

He didn’t want to hang out with Danice, especially not in his free time. He had things to find out. He didn’t know how, but he wanted to see if he could uncover a few clues about his father’s death.

‘Savage, learn this now,’ McPhee said. ‘In this job, new situations come up all the time and we have to deal with them. We have a special mission coming up. As a result, you two will work together.’

‘We have new plans for you,’ Cutler added. ‘You had better get used to it.’

Simon glanced at Danice. ‘You mean, new plans since you recruited me?’ he asked.

‘Something like that,’ Cutler said.

Simon sighed. Danice was a complication he hadn’t anticipated. And he didn’t like it, not one bit.

Simon woke from a restless sleep. He sat up and stared for a moment into the dark corners of his room. He’d been dreaming of tunnels and wormholes, when suddenly an idea had formed. A new plan to find out more about his father.