Open Fire Read online

  ‘That’s armour?’ Napoleon laughed. It didn’t look anything like the armour Monty and Caesar wore for their war games.

  ‘Don’t be fooled, BB,’ said the professor. ‘It might look like skin, but you won’t find better protection anywhere.’

  She held up the body suit. Napoleon could see through it.

  ‘It’s made from a mix of Kevlar and cloned spider web. It can withstand swords, spears, arrows, bullets, explosions and high levels of heat.’

  Napoleon shook his head. How could that be? The outfit felt so fine.

  ‘It’s true,’ Professor Perdu insisted. ‘I tested the prototypes. I was hacked with swords, whacked with axes, jabbed with spears. They even peppered me with an AK47 and tossed in some hand grenades for good measure. I came out bruised, but that was all.’

  Napoleon was beginning to wonder if this was a dream. His head was spinning so much with all the information that he nearly didn’t hear what the professor said next.

  ‘The SimulSkin is also wired with hundreds of nano-computers, intelli-chips and microcircuits.’

  ‘What!?’

  ‘It is what we call a Data-Collecting Device – a D-CD. It records and feeds information to you on the battlefield as well as to me back here at base. There are more than twenty “eyes” located over its surface. They watch everything all the time. It will also collect the DNA of anyone you touch. We’re building a bank of warrior genes, you see. In time, we could clone a whole army.’

  Napoleon imagined an army of super soldiers, with Professor Perdu at the head. But how did he fit in to all of this?

  ‘So when I put on the SimulSkin, I become a Human Data-Collecting Device,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Correct – an HD-CD. And that is your main task in Operation Battle Book. We’re sending you back to these battles as a kind of undercover agent. You’ll be spying on the past, collecting information and solving the mysteries of history. And there are many secrets hidden within the Battle Books.’

  The professor stood back and eyed Napoleon for a moment. ‘Well? Are you interested?’

  Of course he was. He’d start straight away if she wanted him to. But before Napoleon could reply, the professor held up her hand.

  ‘Don’t decide now. Think it over. I’ll call you.’ She delved into her pocket. ‘On this.’ She handed Napoleon a black watch.

  ‘This is your Battle Watch. It looks like an ordinary watch but it has some very interesting features. You’ll soon see what I mean.’

  Napoleon hardly slept that night. Early the next morning he lay staring at the ceiling, still thinking.

  He glanced at his new watch. It was almost six o’clock. He could hear Monty and Caesar getting dressed for their big parade day. He’d be dragged along to watch for sure – now that really was boring – enough to put anyone to sleep.

  Suddenly the Battle Watch throbbed and a message flashed across the screen:

  Report now? At six in the morning? What would he tell his family? The watch throbbed again, and this time the professor’s face appeared on the tiny screen.

  ‘Hurry up, BB,’ she said. ‘Don’t just lie there. You won’t want to miss this for anything.’

  Napoleon climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes. He scribbled a note to his parents, explaining that he’d gone to the library early to work on a special project. Then he crept down the hall.

  His brothers were standing to attention in the sitting room, their backs to him. His father was too busy inspecting their uniforms to notice him tiptoeing past. Soon he was pedalling furiously through the early morning mist.

  He was Battle Boy 005. On a mission.

  His first!

  His nose grew red in the cold air and his heart pounded through his jumper.

  In record time he was standing outside the Special Reading Room. He pressed his hand against the palm pad and the door hummed open in the steel wall.

  ‘Welcome, BB005,’ the door said. Napoleon stepped into the main chamber and the door hummed shut behind him. ‘Enjoy your first mission.’

  You bet, thought Napoleon.

  Professor Perdu was at the control panel, her face lit by flashing lights. ‘At last,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d never get here.’

  ‘But I came as fast —’ said Napoleon breathlessly. If he was going to be a spy, maybe he should think about getting fitter. James Bond never seemed to get puffed.

  ‘Listen.’ The professor interrupted him. ‘The very book I hoped would come on the boil has indeed done so.’

  ‘Number 33?’

  ‘Well noted, BB.’ Professor Perdu nodded at the Tome Tower. ‘The book is in advanced Delta Phase. I can open it to release the pressure, which means we lose the opportunity to discover vital historical data. Or you can open it and have the adventure of your life.’

  She fixed him with her intense eyes.

  ‘Five seconds to decide, Battle Boy. That’s all I can give you.

  4

  3…’

  Napoleon was far too excited to speak. All he could do was nod. Again and again.

  ‘Excellent!’ Professor Perdu hit a button and a panel opened into a change room. ‘The SimulSkin is ready. Not a moment to lose. Tuck the Battle Watch under the sleeve.’

  Napoleon undressed in the change room and pulled the SimulSkin tight over his body until it fitted like his own skin. As he stretched the last bit over his head, a new voice crackled in his ears.

  ‘Hello, BB005.’ The SimulSkin was talking to him in a crisp electronic voice. ‘We will be working together. I will help you as much as possible in this learning stage. You may call me Skin.’

  Napoleon had no idea how this was happening. But there was no time to worry about that. Skin was already giving him instructions. ‘Apply friction to your hands.’

  Napoleon looked around him. Was that a lotion or something?

  ‘I mean rub your hands together,’ said Skin, ‘and open them like a book.’

  Napoleon did so, and when he opened his palms they became an LCD screen, showing details of the operation.

  Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why Professor Perdu had led him to aisle 3a in the military section. She had planned the whole thing.

  ‘It will be a short operation, ideal for your first mission.’ The professor was speaking over the intercom now. ‘And this is what you’ll wear over Skin.’

  A cupboard slid open in the change room to reveal a set of calico trousers, a heavy cotton shirt and a pair of worn-out shoes.

  ‘Don’t be fooled by the shoes,’ said Professor Perdu. ‘They’re fitted with the latest edition of MasterSole, Version 4.2.’

  ‘What?’ Napoleon asked.

  ‘Skin will brief you on that when and if it’s necessary. There’s no time right now. Let’s just say they could be handy.’

  Napoleon inspected the shoes as he dressed. They just looked like old shoes to him, except that the soles were quite thick.

  ‘We’re sending you to Drake’s ship, the Bonaventure,’ said the professor as Napoleon was dressing. ‘You’ll be disguised as a stowaway. You will no doubt be hauled before Sir Francis to explain yourself.’

  ‘But don’t stowaways get fed to the sharks, or have to walk the plank?’ asked Napoleon nervously.

  ‘No, Sir Francis Drake was one of the fairest captains you’d find on the high seas.’

  ‘What do I say to him?’

  ‘Your name is Will Smythe, a peasant boy seeking to serve your queen. Skin will give you details as you need them.’

  Napoleon stepped out of the change room. Professor Perdu checked him all over.

  ‘You won’t need the translator device in Skin for this mission,’ she said. ‘The people you’ll encounter do speak English, but an older form. The translator will modify your words and accent so you sound like them.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ Napoleon said in a strange voice. He giggled.

  ‘As Skin has already explained, your mission is simple,’ the professor contin
ued. ‘Obtain Drake’s DNA. All you have to do is make some sort of physical contact with him. Even touching his clothes will be enough. Is that clear?’

  ‘Clear as a ship’s bell, Captain,’ Napoleon said, and was again surprised at his words. He hadn’t known he was going to say that. It was almost as though Skin was inside his head.

  ‘Ready?’ the professor asked, pressing a button on the control panel. A circular hatch opened into the Tome Tower.

  Napoleon took a deep breath. ‘Ready!’ he said.

  The Tome Tower was hotter than last time, and the humming even louder. Napoleon stared up at the Battle Books. Number 33 was shaking and rattling, and about to fall off the shelf. It really was on the boil!

  ‘Steady, BB,’ the professor said over the intercom. ‘Lift it down very carefully.’

  He did as he was told. The Battle Book rumbled, hot in his hands. He placed it on the floor in the middle of the chamber. The book glowed a dark red, smoke seeped out, and its sides bulged.

  ‘Now, BB. Undo the catch,’ said the professor.

  Napoleon tried but the latch holding the book shut was too hot to touch.

  ‘I can’t,’ he yelled. ‘It’s too hot!’

  ‘Then kick it,’ the professor shouted back.

  ‘Now!

  Before it

  explodes!’

  Napoleon lashed out with his shoe. The latch broke at once and the titanium cover sprang open. A shaft of white light burst from the book and a deafening roar filled the chamber.

  ‘Prepare for entry!’ said the professor.

  ‘What! How?’ shouted Napoleon. ‘What do I have to do?’

  The book had opened completely and the column of light bursting from it was blindingly bright. Then he heard Skin’s voice, clear and crisp.

  ‘Leap, BB005,’ Skin said. ‘Leap into the light.’

  Napoleon’s heart was beating at super speed. This was madness but he couldn’t stop himself. He clenched his fists and charged forward, throwing himself at the shaft of light.

  It sucked him out of sight.

  Noise and fog and screaming wind were all around Napoleon. The skin on his face stretched as tight as a drum, and he thought his ears would burst.

  ‘WHOA …’

  He heard his scream echo around him.

  ‘Please relax, BB005,’ said Skin. ‘We are currently travelling through time and space.’

  Skin sounded so calm, and this helped Napoleon feel calmer too. But then Skin added: ‘Checking GC-Locator is functioning correctly.’

  Napoleon had no idea what the GC-Locator was, but he also hoped it was functioning correctly. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he yelled.

  ‘The GC-Locator’s purpose is to put us

  down in the right place at the right time in history,’ Skin explained. ‘Conditions today are more complicated than usual. We must land on a ship at sea. A moving target is less predictable.’

  The fog around Napoleon cleared a little, and he could see the sea far below. There were sailing ships, too.

  ‘Co-ordinates locked in,’ said Skin. ‘Drake’s fleet is ahead. We are on course for his flagship, the Bonaventure.’

  Napoleon felt like a human rocket as he headed for the ship. ‘Do we slow down for landing, Skin?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Affirmative,’ Skin replied. ‘That is theoretically correct.’

  ‘What do you mean theoretically?’ said Napoleon. ‘This thing has been tested, hasn’t it? I mean —’

  ‘Cease verbalisation,’ Skin interrupted Napoleon. ‘Please focus. Serious GC miscalculation. Co-ordinated response needed.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Napoleon shouted as they dived towards the ship.

  ‘Incorrect landing approach. We are short of target.’ Skin’s voice came in sharp bursts.

  Napoleon suddenly realised what was happening. They were going to land in the sea about a hundred metres before Drake’s ship.

  ‘MasterSoles activated,’ said Skin, as two small skis slid out from the bottom of Napoleon’s shoes. ‘Adopt ski mode, BB.’

  ‘What? Me? Ski?’ Napoleon yelled. He’d never skied before, but he was about to learn. He braced himself.

  ‘Yahoo!’ Napoleon shouted as he skimmed across the top of the water.

  Then he saw that he was heading towards Drake’s ship at top speed.

  ‘We’re going to crash!’

  ‘Negative,’ Skin replied calmly. ‘Use small wave ahead to gain altitude.’

  ‘You mean, get air?’

  ‘Precisely. Maximum air required!’

  Napoleon hit the wave and bounced high into the sky, high above the Bonaventure.

  As he spun through the air, the skis retracted into the old shoes.

  ‘Positioning accurate,’ said Skin. ‘Prepare for landing.’

  THUMP!

  Napoleon hit the deck.

  Luckily he landed on a pile of rolled-up sails. But then he bounced high in the air and came down backside first on the hard deck.

  THUD!

  ‘You call that slowing down?’ he howled. ‘That’s the worst landing I’ve ever had!’

  ‘Statement incorrect,’ said Skin. ‘It is the only landing you have ever had.’

  Napoleon felt a tingling sensation pass through him.

  ‘Body check indicates minor bruising, mainly in the buttocks area,’ said Skin.

  ‘If you mean my bum, you’re spot on. It kills!’

  Napoleon leaped up and hopped around the deck, clutching his backside. But then he stopped. Something very odd was going on. Or not going on.

  Everything was totally still. And silent.

  All over the ship sailors were frozen in the middle of whatever they’d been doing – climbing masts, hauling ropes, setting sails.

  A boy next to Napoleon was holding a broom in the air. His mouth was wide open, as if he were singing, but there was no sound. The sails billowed, but there was no wind. A small wave next to the ship hung in the air, about to break. A seagull was caught in mid-flight.

  ‘This is Epsilon Phase.’ Skin’s voice interrupted Napoleon’s thoughts. ‘Time freezes while the Battle Energy Bundle adjusts to the arrival of a foreign object, namely you, BB005. I calculate we have five to sixty seconds to collect data.’

  Napoleon hurried about the deck. It was as if he’d stepped into a photograph, except that the things in this photo were real. He could reach out and touch them. And as he went, Skin collected data.

  ‘Excellent images, BB,’ Skin said, recording everything. ‘But keep moving. We will enter Kappa Phase soon.’

  ‘What happens then?’

  Napoleon had only just asked the question when the sea began to heave, the wind blew, the ship creaked and groaned, and all the sailors burst into action. It was as if a switch had been turned on.

  ‘This is Kappa Phase,’ Skin replied. ‘The Battle Book has activated itself. We are now part of the Battle Energy Bundle.’

  Napoleon gawked. He was standing on Sir Francis Drake’s ship in 1587, heading for the Battle of Cadiz. He was astonished, unable to speak.

  In the next moment he was unable to move as well.

  A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

  ‘Got ye!’

  The ugliest face Napoleon had ever seen was pressed close to his. A scar sliced it from top to bottom. An evil eye peered out – there was a gaping black hole where the other eye used to be – as the cruel mouth twisted into a snarl.

  ‘A stowaway, eh? Ye’ll be sorry. Stowaways ain’t welcome on this ship. Especially Spanish spies!’ The sailor snarled and shook Napoleon.

  ‘Nay!’ Napoleon yelled. ‘Ye be wrong. I ain’t a spy. Well, not really. I mean I ain’t that kind of spy …’

  The rest of the crew was gathering around, murmuring menacingly. They watched as the ugly sailor lifted Napoleon off the ground by the scruff of his neck.

  ‘What do you say, lads?’ the sailor shouted. ‘Feed him to the sharks?’

  ‘Aye!
’ they shouted back.

  ‘He’ll be a tasty morsel,’ yelled a sailor in the rigging, and they all cheered.

  The ugly sailor dangled Napoleon over the edge of the ship. There really were sharks below. He could see their fins circling in the water.

  ‘Ah, Skin,’ he said. ‘HELP!’

  ‘Do not worry, BB,’ Skin said in a perfectly calm voice. ‘He will not drop you. We will not let him.’

  ‘We?’ Napoleon squeaked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You and me. With assistance from the professor’s FightRite software. Just hold on to him. I will look after the rest.’

  Napoleon twisted round and grabbed the sailor’s arm. His hand felt so much stronger than usual. The man laughed.

  ‘That won’t do thee any good. Your dinner guests are waiting. In ye go!’ The sailor flung his arm out. ‘And good riddance.’

  Napoleon closed his eyes. This was it. The end. And he’d only just begun.

  But Napoleon didn’t fall into the sea. He hung on. The man kept laughing and shook his arm. But nothing he did could get rid of Napoleon. The sailor grew angry and shook harder, but it was no use.

  ‘Get off me, ye wee devil!’ he yelled.

  But Napoleon’s grip became even tighter. Somehow, Skin had cemented him to the man’s arm.

  ‘This particular program is called SupaGrip,’ Skin said. ‘Tighten two degrees more. Raise pain level on subject.’

  Napoleon felt his hand squeeze harder.

  The sailor cried out and stumbled back from the railing, dragging Napoleon with him.

  ‘Enough,’ he hollered, and fell to his knees. ‘Let go!’

  Napoleon was in charge now. ‘What be that?’ he said, leaning over the bully and squeezing his arm even tighter. ‘What did thee say?’

  ‘Let go!’

  ‘Sorry. I be thinking ye left out a word. It starts with a “p” and ends with an “e”.’