Martin King and the Space Angels (Martin King Series) (7 page)

‘I don’t understand why you need our help,’ said Tommy.

‘Well, as beautiful as this telescope is, I can’t get the damn thing to work. I have had countless engineers look at it, but none of them have even begun to understand how it works. My contact said that only a boy named Martin King could help me.’

‘I don’t know anything about telescopes,’ he began, but Harvey cut him off.

‘Perhaps, perhaps. But please try.’

Martin paused. ‘All right. I’ll try. But if I fix it you have to give me something in return. I want the Monograph.’

Harvey chuckled. ‘Martin, don’t forget my boys downstairs. They’re carrying guns!’

‘Come off it,’ said Martin. ‘That doesn’t frighten me. You might have managed to get out of fraud but murder would be a little harder to deny.’

Harvey was not shaken. But he laughed again. ‘You’ve obviously done your research. I like you, Martin. I like you a lot.’ He paused. ‘Oh, what the hell! You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. If you manage to get the telescope working you can have the damn sphere.’

Darcy squeezed Martin’s hand. Harvey placed his eye over the telescope’s eyepiece.

‘Whatever I try,’ he said, ‘the telescope won’t work. It’s just black inside. Look—’

Martin looked into the telescope. He couldn’t see anything except darkness.

‘I see what you mean. Maybe it’s broken.’

Harvey sighed. ‘Perhaps.’

Think
, thought Martin.
We need that Monograph, so I need to find some way to fix Harvey’s telescope. But how? I wouldn’t even know how to repair a toaster, let alone an alien telescope.

Martin rested his hand on the body of the telescope and peered into it again. As his fingers brushed the polished mahogany, something began to happen. The telescope began to get warmer, and there was a low whirring sound, like the turning of clockwork.

‘It’s doing something,’ shouted Harvey. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing,’ said Martin.

Martin took a step back from the telescope. Suddenly, the noise stopped. Harvey couldn’t hide his disappointment.

‘Damn it,’ he shouted.

Tommy stepped forward and peered into the eyepiece.

‘Harvey?’

‘Yes?’

‘Take a look.’

Harvey looked through the telescope, and he gasped.

‘Is that… yes, it is! It’s a galaxy! A real galaxy!’

He turned to Martin, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Thank you, Martin, thank you so much!’

Martin put his eye to the eyepiece. It was incredible—a swirling, spinning vortex of stars and stardust. But how had he made it work? Why had it responded to his touch?

‘OK,’ said Harvey. ‘You’ve done your bit.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden Monograph. ‘Here you go.’

Martin took the Monograph with both hands and stared at it. On the bottom was the number
321
. Could the Monograph really bring them one step closer to saving the planet?

‘Thank you,’ said Martin. He turned to his friends. ‘Well… let’s find out what XO5 is so desperate to get its hands on…’

Chapter 8:
Kara

Michael Slater held the shining Monograph with both hands.

‘And now we shall see,’ he said.

They were back inside
Valiant Star
, sitting in a circle and waiting to discover the Monograph’s secret. Mr Slater activated the sphere, and they watched.

‘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 Isis Crystal.

‘I have added a microscopic sample of the Isis Crystal to a stable bio-suspension solution. I will now proceed to pour a small amount of the solution over three geometric shapes. The shapes are made from a simple polymer material.’

The doctor on the screen carried out the experiment; the three shapes transformed into different objects.

‘It seems our fears were justified. The Isis Crystal is unsafe, and as such, must be hidden in the City of Serenity, on Planet Earth, 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.’

‘So that’s what we’re looking for,’ said Tommy.

‘The
Isis Crystal
…’ said Slater. ‘The name means nothing to me. But I do recognise one name from the Monograph—the City of Serenity.’

‘You’ve heard of it?’ said Darcy.

Mr Slater smiled. ‘Every little Axis boy is taught about the City of Serenity.’ He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘Before you understand what it is, you must first learn a little about the history of my people. Many millions of years ago, the Axis Lords were a primitive and warlike people—much like the inhabitants of your world today. But, as the centuries passed, our people continued to develop intellectually until we abandoned war completely.

‘There followed a time of peace. The Axis Lords had advanced to a point where they were masters in virtually every field—mathematics, history, science, technology… the Axis Lords became rightfully known as the most accomplished race in the galaxy.

‘However, the Axis Lords still lacked one thing—imagination. Now, I do not speak of the imagination required to build machines or to formulate mathematical theorems, but of the imagination required for a child to make up a story, or for a sculptor to create a work of art. Among all the billions of Axis Lords, there was not a single poet, or an artist, or a novelist.

‘But one man changed everything. His name was Angalax, and he was born on the Axis world of Hal-Minor. Angalax was not a promising student; he performed poorly in school and failed most of his final exams. However, at the age of eighteen, Angalax did one thing that no Axis Lord before him had ever done. Angalax wrote a poem. Nobody had experienced anything like it; poetry was still an unknown concept in the entire Blue galaxy.

‘But Axis Lords have always been quick learners. Angalax’s poem—a work of intense beauty—sparked off a massive cultural revolution on the Axis planets. Over the next six months, thousands of poets, novelists, painters and sculptors began to spring up all throughout the Axis Belt. These were exciting times.

‘But the Axis government was frightened. They were frightened that the cultural revolution would lead to a political revolution. Indeed, many Axis Lords began to call for a new way of ruling—you would call it a democracy.’

Mr Slater smiled a sad smile. ‘I am sure you can guess what happened next.’

‘War?’ said Martin.

Slater nodded. ‘War. The government made a new law stating that all of the arts were henceforth forbidden. Poetry, painting, dance, drama… as quickly as these concepts had come into existence they were outlawed. But the new creatives were not about to be silenced so easily. They challenged the government’s right to rule, and demanded an election.

‘The events that followed came to be known as the Three Hour War. All of the Axis Lords who refused to accept the new governmental decree were rounded up and imprisoned. Their leader—Angalax, the first poet—was publicly executed. The rest were given a choice—conform or die.

‘None conformed. Of the approximately 10,000 rebels, around 3,000 were killed. The remaining 7,000 were exiled to an island prison called the City of Serenity—a place they would never be able to leave.’

‘And this place is on Earth?’ said Darcy.

‘Yes. The City of Serenity is located on an invisible island in the North Atlantic Ocean, not far from Bermuda. It is shielded from human detection with Axis technology. It has been many thousands of years since the Three Hour War, and the Axis Lords living in the city have developed a large and complex society.’

‘And the Isis Crystal—the thing we have to find—is hidden there…’ murmured Tommy. ‘So how do we get in?’

‘Getting
into
the City of Serenity will be simple,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Getting
out
will pose much more of a problem. Like I said, the city was designed to prevent any escape. In nearly 8,000 years, only one person has ever managed to escape—an Axis Lady named Moonstone.’

‘Nice name,’ said Darcy.

‘A nice name, perhaps. But Moonstone is the most evil, the most
debased
being the Axis race has ever produced.’ Mr Slater turned to Martin. ‘Do you remember the time a few weeks ago when you heard a strange voice coming from inside my office?’

Martin nodded.

‘That was Moonstone. Her voice was disguised, but that was her. Although she managed to escape from the City of Serenity she is still unable to leave this planet. An Axis satellite is in continual orbit around the Earth, which is programmed to respond to the DNA of the descendants of any Axis rebels. It would shoot her down the moment she left the planet’s atmosphere. She cannot leave, so she seeks to destroy the Earth instead—a last vengeful act of pure evil.’

‘And you’re helping her?’ said Martin.

Mr Slater uncomfortably tugged the lapels of his tweed jacket.

‘This is difficult to explain—and it will be even more difficult for you to believe me—but I am only
pretending
to help Moonstone. She has provided me with invaluable information in my quest to find what we now know is the Isis Crystal. It was Moonstone who sold me the Foreteller, who helped me to get the teaching job at Gateway School, who told me that Harvey Longfellow possessed the Monograph we so sorely needed. Without her, none of this would have been possible.’

Martin looked at his friends. None of them were sure they could trust Slater.

‘So,’ said Tommy, ‘let me get this straight. You’re saying that Moonstone wants the Isis Crystal too, right? She wants to help us find the crystal so she can steal it from us—and use it to destroy the Earth.’

‘Precisely,’ said Slater. ‘She has only been helping me for her own ends. But she does not realise that I do not intend for her to ever gain possession of the Isis Crystal. If Moonstone ever got her hands on it the consequences would be, quite literally, disastrous.’

‘Even though we don’t know what it does?’ said Tommy.

‘We do know from the experiment you just watched that the Isis Crystal has amazing creative powers. And anything that can be used to create can—sadly—be used to destroy.’

The chiming of a bell rang out suddenly throughout the ship, and Slater leapt to his feet.

‘That’s a distress call!’ he shouted.

They followed Mr Slater as he ran to the control room; once inside, his eyes darted around at the several displays. The control room was spacious, and was filled with various wooden panels and brass switches. A large, golden-framed window looked out onto the sky.

‘A distress call from who?’ said Darcy.

‘The signature is unmistakeable,’ said Slater. ‘It is one of my people. An Axis Lord is in danger.’ He sighed. ‘Forgive me, but we cannot delay. I must set the coordinates straight away—I have to help.’

Mr Slater jumped into the operator seat and punched in some coordinates, his fingers sliding quickly over various controls. Then Mr Slater took hold of the wheel, which looked like a ship’s rudder. Through the window that lay in front of them, Martin watched as the ship began to move.

Valiant Star
drifted away from the roof of Gateway School, gradually picking up speed and altitude.

‘Where’s the signal coming from?’ said Tommy. ‘Somewhere on Earth?’

Slater nodded. ‘Quite close, in fact. Somewhere in Cambridge.’ He turned his neck to look at them. ‘We will be there in ten minutes. Make yourselves comfortable in the lounge.’

‘In other words—get lost,’ muttered Darcy, out of earshot.

They returned to the lounge, sat down, and waited. Through the portholes, they could see clouds rushing past as
Valiant Star
sailed through the sky. A few minutes later, they heard Slater’s voice over the communication system.

‘We are about to land,’ he said. ‘Make sure you are seated for the descent.’

They were already sitting down, so they did nothing. The ship’s engines became louder as it touched down, and then the ship fell silent. Mr Slater marched out from the control room.

‘You can wait here if you wish,’ he said. ‘However, I would be much obliged if you could offer assistance.’

‘Of course we’ll help,’ said Darcy. Martin and Tommy nodded.

Slater smiled. ‘Thank you.’

The teacher opened the exit hatch, and he climbed out of the ship, followed by Martin and the others.

The ship had landed on a large, damp lawn. Two once-grand fountains lay nearby; now they were covered in moss. A Georgian manor lay fifty meters away from them; the house, too, was run-down.

‘So where’s the trouble?’ said Darcy.

Slater peered around the lawn. Everything was eerily quiet. There was no danger in sight.

And then they heard the scream.

‘I think it came from that direction,’ said Martin, pointing towards the hall.

Without wasting a second, Mr Slater, Martin, Darcy and Tommy started to run towards the crumbling manor, their feet slipping on the saturated grass. As they got nearer, they heard another scream, and realised that it didn’t come from the hall.

‘This way,’ said Slater breathlessly, pointing towards a massive greenhouse that stood next to the house. The greenhouse was about a third of the size of the main building, but equally grand. Twisted glass spires rose up towards the sky like crystal smoke.

As they reached it, Slater glanced through the glass.

‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘It’s a Pendulum Officer.’

Martin looked. Inside, standing amongst thick vines and plants, was a sleek robot, covered in a gold floral pattern. Inside its head, spinning cogs were visible. Martin had seen one of them before—it was the same kind of robot that had attacked Levanté at the end of his magic show.

Martin told Mr Slater this, and he sighed.

‘I should have known. The Pendulum Officers are—effectively—policemen. Or at least they were.’ Slater sighed again, and turned to face them. ‘Fifty years ago, the Pendulum project was discontinued throughout the Axis Belt. The thing is, the technology inside each Pendulum Officer is extremely advanced and extremely dangerous. When the project was ended, the remaining droids were captured and reprogrammed by various groups all across the Blue galaxy.’

‘What kind of groups?’ said Martin.

Slater grimaced. ‘Mainly criminal gangs and terrorist cells.’

‘So how do we stop it?’ said Tommy.

Mr Slater reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket, and pulled out a gun.

‘We don’t stop it. We
destroy
it.’

The teacher pushed open the greenhouse door and marched inside. The teenagers followed. A woman was cowering on the soil floor of the greenhouse, behind a makeshift barricade of plant pots, watering cans and other gardening equipment.

The Pendulum Officer’s eyes burned red, and a laser beam burst out at the sobbing woman. A bubble-like shape shimmered around the woman; Martin realised that it was a shield or force field of some kind.

‘You will come with me,’ said the robot. ‘You will come with me, or be obliterated.’

Slater approached the robot and held the gun towards it. Before it turned around, he pulled the trigger. A thin blue streak of laser light shot out; the metal creature cracked open and burst into flames. Slater fired the laser again, and the robot completely disintegrated.

Martin stared at the Mr Slater. He was becoming more suspicious of the teacher every day.
Why was he carrying a gun?

‘Are you all right?’ said Mr Slater, hurrying to the woman on the floor. She was wearing a bizarre dress that looked as if it was made from leaves. She got to her feet.

‘You are not taking me,’ she muttered. ‘You are
not
taking me!’

Mr Slater reached out to her, but she pulled away.

‘I am not here on behalf of the Axis Lords,’ said Slater, ‘I am on this planet by choice. I am looking for something here.’ Mr Slater turned to Martin and the others. ‘We Axis Lords and Ladies always recognise a fellow member of our species. It is a kind of instinct we have.’