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  Napoleon looked around the gondola, but there was nowhere to hide. It was only a small compartment anyway, and the officers took up most of the room.

  ‘We have to get out of here, Skin,’ he shouted. ‘ASAP!’

  But it was too late. The gondola had suddenly become fully solid. When Napoleon looked up at the German officers, they were staring straight back at him.

  ‘What do we have here?’ said one of the men, pulling out his pistol. ‘A spy, I bet!’

  ‘I’m not a spy,’ Napoleon replied, his words coming out in German. ‘And I wouldn’t fire that thing in here. There’s a lot of hydrogen in that big balloon above us, and tons of bombs on board. You might cause an explosion, and then wed all be dead’

  The German kept his gun trained on Napoleon. ‘For just a boy you seem to know a great deal about zeppelins. I still say you’re a spy Working for the British, are you?’

  Napoleon could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck as the German cocked his pistol and took aim.

  ‘Put that gun away.’

  A wave of relief swept over Napoleon. It was the captain of the airship.

  Any fool can see the boy is not a spy. He’s just a stowaway. I have no idea how he got past security. But now he’s here he’s part of the crew’ The captain clicked his heels and offered his hand to Napoleon. ‘Welcome aboard the L-31, young man. This is our maiden flight.’

  The L-31, Skin said via the thought channel. That means he is Captain Heinrich Mathy, one of the most decorated zeppelin pilots. Even the British held him in high regard. It also means that the date is 28 July.

  Napoleon smiled and shook the man’s hand. ‘Honoured to meet you, Captain Mathy.’

  ‘What?’ The officer was startled. ‘You know me?’

  ‘I do. You’re one of my heroes. I hope to be a great pilot like you one day. That’s why I stowed away. So that I could learn more.’

  Captain Mathy puffed out his chest and beamed with delight. ‘You sound like my kind of lad.’ He slapped Napoleon on the back. ‘Come. Let me show you around my beauty.’

  The captain led Napoleon on a guided tour of the zeppelin. Skin eagerly recorded the details.

  ‘The L-31 is the latest in airships,’ said Mathy. ‘And the largest. Six hundred and fifty feet long, powered by six engines, with a hydrogen capacity of more than one and a half million cubic feet. That means we can carry four tonnes of bombs and fly as high as 18,000 feet above sea level’

  ‘That’s impressive,’ said Napoleon

  ‘I agree.’ Captain Mathy gazed out the window of the gondola at the other zeppelins in the distance. ‘Aren’t they beautiful? Whoever would have thought it possible? Huge ships floating in the air.’ The captain smiled at Napoleon. ‘Yes. This is only the beginning. By the time you’re a grown man, zeppelins will fill the skies. They’ll fly all over the world, luxury cruisers of the heavens’

  ‘But what about aeroplanes?’

  ‘Bah! Not a chance. They can only carry a couple of people at the most, and they’re always falling out of the sky. No, zeppelins are the future, mark my word.’

  Captain Mathy checked his instruments and made a few adjustments.

  ‘Of course, they’ll be much bigger than these. Two, three times, perhaps. We even have plans for airtrains – whole strings of zeppelins joined together.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Napoleon, still gazing out the window at the other airships. He couldn’t help thinking how very like ghosts they were. Perhaps he was imagining things, but they seemed to be fading again before his eyes.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said the captain. ‘But perhaps I shouldn’t say any more,’ he added with a laugh. ‘Just in case you really are a spy’

  Napoleon laughed too. But when he looked more closely at the captain, it seemed that he was fading as well.

  What’s happening? he thought-channelled Skin.

  Energy shutdown occurring, Skin replied. Monitoring situation, but be prepared for anything.

  A siren began wailing onboard the zeppelin. It blared out loudly. So too did a warning voice: ‘Achtung! Enemy aircraft! Achtung! Battle stations!’

  But both voice and siren faded quickly until Napoleon could barely hear them. Nor could he hear the German airmen rushing about and shouting to each other; or the machine guns they were firing.

  Soon he was folded in an eerie silence. That’s when he realised that the airship itself was becoming transparent once again.

  ‘Total dematerialisation occurring.’

  No sooner had Skin said this than Zeppelin L-31 and all its crew completely vanished.

  ‘There’s nothing left,’ said Napoleon. ‘Everything has gone.’

  For a millisecond he was left floating in midair, his mouth wide open.

  And then he was falling.

  ‘Activate HoverVest,’ he shouted.

  ‘HoverVest not responding.’ Skin’s voice crackled. ‘Nothing resp—’ And then Skin fell silent too.

  ‘Where are you, Skin? Talk to me!’

  Napoleon was falling so fast that he could feel himself losing consciousness. He glanced at his Battle Watch. It was flashing on and off with acceleration warnings.

  That was the last thing Napoleon saw before he passed out.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. But he’s not from around these parts, that’s for certain.’

  ‘P’raps he’s a German?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘He could be. Might’ve jumped out of one of them blimps as it floated over.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. He’d be dead as a doornail, and fair splattered all over the ground like a smashed watermelon.’

  Napoleon could only just hear the voices. His head was ringing loudly. And aching. His whole body was aching, top to toe. He just wanted to lie there and forget about everything.

  But what about Skin, he wondered? He felt a slight pulse ripple across his body and sighed with relief. At least his SimulSkin was okay; damaged maybe, but not totally out of action. Skin should be operational again before too long … surely.

  In the meantime there were still those voices, and Napoleon didn’t like what he was hearing.

  ‘Look. His chest is going up and down. He’s alive!’

  ‘Who cares? We’re just gunna rob him. Makes no diff if he’s dead or alive.’

  ‘I’ll have his coat, then. You take his trousers, and we’ll toss for the boots. Whaddya say?’

  ‘Suits me.’

  Bony hands grabbed hold of Napoleon. He forced himself into action.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ he shouted, and rolled over, lashing out with his fists.

  Two boys were staring down at him, both older than Napoleon. They pulled back at once and watched warily as he sat up and looked about. He was in a dark narrow alley.

  ‘Where am I?’ he groaned, holding his head in his hands.

  The boys were dirty and dressed in rags. One was smaller than the other. ‘Charing Cross,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Cor blimey,’ said the bigger boy. ‘What sort of question is that? London, of course, you noodle’

  Napoleon winced with pain. He wished they would go away and leave him alone.

  ‘I reckon he’s simple,’ the older boy muttered behind his hand. ‘Or he’s had a bad knock to the head. Either way he should be a pushover.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Napoleon said and stood up. ‘Keep back.’ He felt unsteady but tried not to show it.

  ‘Heard what? I didn’t say nuthin. Must be hearing things too. Sign of madness.’ The boys began to circle Napoleon slowly. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Napoleon.’

  ‘Ooo! La-di-dah. That’s French, ain’t it? Are you from Paris?’

  ‘No. I’m from … oh, never mind.’

  Napoleon’s head was throbbing. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. But these two were circling him like vultures.

  ‘Sounds like he dunno where he’s from,’ the small b
oy snickered. ‘That’s not good.’

  ‘Not good at all,’ added the older boy. ‘So what day is it, Frenchie? Can you tell us that, then?’

  Napoleon thought back to what Skin had told him on the zeppelin. ‘Yes. It’s 28 July 1916.’

  The boys burst out laughing.

  ‘Or 29 July,’ Napoleon added. ‘What’s it matter anyway?’

  ‘You’ve really got it bad,’ the big boy said. ‘You’re nearly a year ahead of yourself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s 1915, Master Bonaparte. 13 October to be exact. Not your lucky day

  What? I must have fallen out of that Battle Bubble into this one, Napoleon thought to himself. He suddenly felt swamped by a wave of confusion. If only Skin would hurry up and repair.

  ‘But it’s our lucky day,’ said the small boy, tugging at Napoleons coat. ‘I need some new clothes.’

  ‘I said keep away from me,’ Napoleon shouted, lashing out and knocking him over.

  But the big boy attacked Napoleon from behind and caught him in a headlock. ‘Pull his boots off!’

  ‘No, not my boots. I need them.’

  Napoleon kicked and struggled with all his might. But the boys were too strong. They wrestled him to the ground and leaped on top of him.

  ‘Got ’em,’ yelled the little boy, holding up the boots like trophies.

  Let’s scarper, then,’ said his mate, ripping off Napoleon’s coat. ‘Before someone comes.’

  ‘Wait!’ Napoleon called after the boys. But there was no stopping them.

  He slowly got his feet. ‘Oh, no,’ he moaned. ‘What’ll I do now?’

  Napoleon heard a familiar beeping sound, and a wave of warmth passed over his whole body. Skin was back.

  ‘Full Operational Mode activated. All circuits tested and repaired. Defaults reset. Ready for action.’

  ‘You’re a bit late, Skin,’ sighed Napoleon.

  ‘Emometer detects sadness and distress. What is your emotional concern, BB005?’

  ‘A couple of street kids have just taken off with my boots’

  ‘Is one of these thieves tall and the other small?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’

  ‘My external scanner beam is locking onto them as we speak. They are approximately 250 metres from here. Proceed with haste and we should apprehend them.’

  Napoleon hurried down the alley and into an even narrower lane where he came upon the thieves. The taller boy had just pulled on the boots.

  ‘Look who it is,’ he said. ‘It’s Frenchie again. Come to beg for your boots, have you?’

  ‘I’m not begging. I’m telling,’ said Napoleon. ‘Hand my stuff over now, or else.’

  ‘Not a chance. I’ve taken a shine to these.’ The big boy strutted about.

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Napoleon pointed his Helping Hand at the boots. ‘Give him a workout, please, Skin. And make it something he won’t forget in a long time.’

  A blue beam shot from Napoleon’s hand, and the boy immediately began running on the spot.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted, staring down at the boots.

  ‘Just a little demo. You know what they say: test and try before you buy. Give him the works, Skin.’

  The boy ran faster and faster; on the spot at first, then in circles and figures of eight. He jumped up and down, did backflips and somersaults, tap danced, rap danced and kicked a wild cancan. To finish off, Skin activated the Boot Boosters a few times, so the boy shot up into the air, then crashed to the ground.

  He fell to his knees, crying, ‘No more. Please!’

  ‘But you haven’t seen half the things your new footwear can do,’ said Napoleon. ‘That was only the start.’

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ the boy said, ripping off the boots. He threw them at Napoleon, stood up and ran away as fast as his aching feet would let him.

  The small boy tore off the coat, shaking with fear. ‘I don’t even want to know what this thing can do,’ he said. He tossed it aside and ran after his mate.

  Napoleon pulled on his boots at once. ‘Thanks, Skin.’ He picked up the coat and put it on as well. ‘You do know we’re in another Battle Bubble, don’t you?’

  ‘I suspected as much, BB005, but I cannot establish time and space co-ordinates as yet. We are in London, but exact location unknown.’

  ‘It’s called Charing Cross,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Yes, that corresponds. Searching for date —’

  ‘I know that as well,’ interrupted Napoleon. ‘It’s 13 October 1915.’

  There was a pause and then Skin gave a loud warning beep. ‘Situation extremely serious. Danger level maximum.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘In less than 60 seconds, one of the deadliest zeppelin attacks ever carried out by the Germans will begin; the Theatreland Raid. And we are in the worst possible position, near Exeter Street, off the Strand.’

  As if on cue, an enormous zeppelin appeared overhead, lit by searchlights. Napoleon stood gaping, fascinated by its sinister beauty.

  And then there was a massive explosion, followed by another and another.

  ‘What do we do, Skin?’

  ‘Evacuate immediately. Activating ShieldField in Cone Mode, plus HoverVest and Boot Boosters with turbo thrust. Taking off now!’

  But at that very moment a bomb exploded right next to Napoleon.

  The explosion was stupendous. It caught Napoleon as he took off, and blew him sideways. He bounced from one building to another, ricocheting in a wild upward spiral.

  In no time at all he was above London. He caught glimpses of the mayhem; people scrambling for cover, buildings burning, sirens blaring, anti-aircraft guns blasting away, and the zeppelin poised over the city like a huge evil slug spewing out bombs on all below.

  But then Skin gave another warning beep.

  ‘Unusual energy spike occurring.’

  ‘What? What does that mean?’

  Napoleon soon saw what it meant. The ShieldField began to spin faster and faster.

  ‘The explosion has damaged the gyroscopes and locked them into lateral turbo thrust,’ Skin explained as they spun into a blur.

  But that was only the beginning. As the ShieldField whirled, it started to glow. And the faster it spun the more it glowed. Red hot, at first. Then white hot. And then cold blue heat.

  ‘Analysis indicates that the energy from the bomb has mixed with our launch energy, setting off a multiplication effect that appears to be self-generating.’

  ‘What does that mean in English, Skin?’ Napoleon gasped. The temperature inside the ShieldField was soaring. He felt as if he were being cooked.

  ‘It means that any moment now we will combust, explode.’

  ‘Oh, is that all? I thought for a moment … WHAT?’

  The words had barely left Napoleons lips when an almighty blast flung him twisting and writhing through the air. He felt as if he were being torn apart by a mix of heat and light and sound. Torn apart, and yet still alive! Still aware of himself spinning through… What was he spinning through?

  The next thing he knew, he was wrapped in a quiet, white, almost-silent cocoon.

  A miracle.’ Skin’s voice broke through the quiet. ‘Scientifically impossible, of course. And yet I must admit I do not have a rational explanation for what has just happened.’

  ‘Don’t you mean, what has NOT happened?’ Napoleon said as the whiteness began to fade around him. ‘I thought you said we were going to explode.’

  ‘I did. But the Battle Bubble we were in exploded instead.’

  ‘The whole Battle Bubble exploded! The forces must have been huge.’

  ‘Precisely. They should have destroyed us. But instead they have blown us into yet another Battle Bubble.’

  Napoleon looked down. He was floating over the sea again, as in the first Battle Bubble. The HoverVest gyroscopes must have repaired themselves. But this time he could see land as well. ‘Is that the coast of Engl
and?’

  ‘Correct, BB005. And those city lights to the south are London.’

  And there’s a zeppelin.’

  The airship was ahead, its engines off, drifting on the breeze, trying to get as near as possible to London under the cloak of silence.

  Napoleons Boot Boosters gave a spurt and he edged closer. ‘That’s the L-31 again, isn’t it?’

  Skin’s commuters whirred and buzzed. Affirmative.’

  ‘So we’re back where we started?’

  ‘Negative. The GeoChron co-ordinates indicate that this is a different Battle Bubble. It appears to be a later one’ There was a pause while Skin made a series of calculations. ‘Analysis sets the date as 1 October 1916.’

  Napoleon flew even closer to the zeppelin so that he could actually make out the officers in the command gondola. Heinrich Mathy was at the controls.

  ‘Hey, there’s Captain Mathy again. He sure flies a lot of missions.’

  ‘Correct. This is his fifteenth,’ said Skin. ‘It will also be his last.’

  ‘His last! Do you mean that he —?’

  Before Napoleon could finish the question, his words were drowned out by a deafening roar.

  The zeppelin had fired up its engines, all six of them.

  ‘They are going in for the attack,’ said Skin. ‘It will be full speed ahead from now on.’

  The L-31 dipped its nose and dived towards the city, engines screaming.

  But at the same time a blaze of searchlights began sweeping the sky, and planes could be heard taking off from an airstrip below. There were six searchlights, and they quickly picked up the zeppelin. Anti-aircraft guns opened fire, blasting away at the L-31 with everything they had.

  ‘Timing is crucial,’ Skin said. ‘The Germans need to fly in, expel their deadly payload, and exit as quickly as possible before the British planes can challenge them.’

  As Skin spoke, bombs began falling from the zeppelin. Moments later the ground below burst into a series of explosions. Over fifty bombs rained down from the airship in a wave of destruction.