Star Blaze (19 page)

“Johnny … Jonathan … Cavok,” Johnny replied. His brain seemed as exhausted as the rest of him and it was a struggle to
remember what Kovac had told him.

“Cavok? That Polish?” asked the man.

“Er … something like that.”

“Through you go—I'll bring down the blinds.”

Johnny nodded and ran on through the metal arch which beeped loudly. The guard didn't seem to mind and pressed a switch on the wall, whereupon metal shutters descended from the ceiling, cutting the corridor off from the crowds of people behind.

Colonel Hartman's muffled voice screamed, “Stop him!” and the metal curtain began to shake violently.

“You took your time,” said the voice in his ear as Johnny forced himself forward, round a bend that led him through one hundred and eighty degrees, right through a door until the words “Elevators to Observatory” swam before his eyes and he found himself facing a bank of lifts. “I'll accelerate the elevators,” Kovac continued. “Once at the top, take the escalator up one level and then stairs onto the roof, rendezvousing with the
Jubilee
.”

There was a ping and one of the lift doors opened. Johnny ran inside, pressed the button for the very top and breathed a sigh of relief as the cabin sealed itself. He knew he should stay on his toes and keep moving—that his job wasn't over yet—but exhaustion took hold. Before he could stop himself he was crouching on the floor, panting like Bentley after they'd been for a run. He felt the acceleration upward, so fast it was like being weighed down on a really big planet with two or three times the gravity, and collapsed the rest of the way onto the floor, rolling over as he went so he lay on his back. At least it would be over soon. Through the clear roof of the lift he could see rows of blue lights like young stars twinkling in the shaft—the top of the building was approaching very quickly.

As the cabin stopped and the downward pressure subsided,
Johnny pulled himself to his feet with the help of a handrail. The doors opened. With the last of his strength he stumbled out and saw through the wall of windows exactly how high up he was—in front of the Empire State Building, probably above even Nicky's office. Kovac was talking in his ear, but he couldn't concentrate on the words. It was as though his whole body had started to shut down once he'd collapsed in the lift. Some survival instinct, buried deep within his brain, told him to keep going upward. Falling through a set of revolving doors, he stumbled onto a narrow escalator and grabbed hold of the black rubber handrail either side. The moving staircase carried him out onto a roof space. As he reached the top he staggered forward, but stayed on his feet, though it felt as if the cold air was stabbing at his broken nose.

The edges of the roof were packed with sightseers, their faces pressed up against giant clear perspex screens that looked over the city. He just wanted to lie down again and curl up on the paved ground, but Kovac was still talking, directing him left and left again, into a stairwell. Some primordial force kept Johnny moving and he climbed again. He reached the very top, exposed to the surroundings with no more barriers. Far fewer tourists had found their way to this level and those that had were crouched in front of silver binocular stands, well protected by thick coats against the wintry air. The quantum computer's voice was being drowned out by a whirring noise, becoming louder and louder. Johnny knew he'd heard it before, that it somehow meant danger. Then, like a lightbulb switching on in his head, he realized it was the rotor blades of a helicopter. He looked upward but, apart from a stack of aerials and antennae spiking into the sky, the view was clear.

Then, Colonel Hartman's black chopper appeared from beneath his feet, rising up close to the very edge of the tower, with the Empire State Building behind. It swung round so it was
side-onto him and people on the rooftop began to scream. The few tourists in the line of sight between Johnny and it scattered. He immediately saw why. The helicopter door was open and, kneeling on the ledge, was a lone gunman, aiming a rifle straight at him. He knew he should run for cover, but his legs had turned to lead. He looked down at his top and followed the point of a red laser beam as it settled on the central star of Cassiopeia, before he raised his head to the chopper. The colonel was standing behind the shoulder of the marksman, who fired, sparks erupting into the darkness around. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and Johnny even had time to brace himself for the impact, but it still didn't come.

The first ping was followed by several more as the rifleman kept firing, but the bullets were rebounding off an invisible barrier. Then the door of a black London taxi opened out of thin air, between Johnny and the helicopter. The rest of the
Jubilee
materialized, hovering about a meter off the ground and, from somewhere, Johnny found a last ounce of strength to fling himself inside.

The shuttle lifted into the sky, while terrified tourists scrambled to clear the rooftop. The man in the chopper stopped firing. Alf looked at Johnny, a concerned expression on his face. “It is good to see you, Master Johnny, although you have looked better. I am taking you straight to sickbay when we reach the
Spirit of London
.” The android must have thought
Shields on
, because the shuttle began to disappear around them, followed by Alf and Johnny himself. He wished the pain in his nose would vanish as well but, if anything, it seemed to be getting worse. As the
Jubilee
picked up speed, Johnny wondered if he might have seen a black sphere floating alongside them, but he was too tired to speak. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Johnny woke in a blind panic. He couldn't see his arms, or his legs, or any part of him. It took a few seconds to remember he was in the
Jubilee
and still shielded. They were just entering the
Spirit of London
's shuttle bay. As the black taxi rematerialized around him, he saw there was a welcoming committee, not just of Clara and Bentley, but also Zeta and Erin. Johnny smiled to himself—the boy king was keeping as far away from the Old English sheepdog as possible.

Alf brought the shuttle down with a slight thud and the doors opened. “Welcome home, Johnny,” came Sol's voice from all around, with just a hint more emotion than normal.

“Thanks,” Johnny replied. Anything more would have been drowned out as Bentley had begun barking the second Johnny stepped onto the reassuringly familiar deck. The gray and white dog bounded over, leaping up onto his hind legs to lick Johnny's face.

With his nose still incredibly tender, Johnny fought the sheepdog off as playfully as he could, pushing him down onto all fours. “Hello, Bents … Hello, Bents,” he said, nestling his chin on top of Bentley's head. Then he caught sight of Clara scowling at him in the background, and stood up.

“Master Johnny—I must insist you come with me to sickbay at once,” said Alf, but no one was listening.

Princess Zeta stepped forward and stretched out one of her
long scaly arms, delicately touching Johnny's nose. At once it began to tingle, like he was about to sneeze, and then he felt a burning sensation spread from the point of contact out across his face. He tried to pull away, but some force kept him glued to her hand. Her lizard-like eyes were firmly shut, a look of fixed concentration across her face. Then her lids opened, she smiled and said, “It is done—but your aura remains troubled.”

Johnny took a breath and discovered his nose was working again and when he touched it, very gingerly with his forefinger, there wasn't the slightest pain. “Thanks … I think,” he said, looking into her reptilian eyes as she backed away, making room for Clara.

Johnny had never seen that expression on his sister's face before. He stood his ground, not knowing whether to try to give her a hug or run away. It was a mistake. She slapped him really hard across his left cheek as she shouted, “Don't you ever, ever, abandon me again.” More slaps followed on the two “evers,” stinging Johnny's face. “We're all each other's got.” Uncertain what to do, but not wanting to be hit again, Johnny put his arms around his sister, like a boxer hanging on. She tried to push him away, but only half-heartedly.

“If I may interrupt,” said King Erin. “Now you have resumed command of this vessel it is your primary duty to return my sister and I to our homeworld. I must insist …”

Johnny shot the king a look that stopped him in his tracks. “Not now, lizard boy,” he said and, with an arm still around Clara's shoulder, walked past the smarting orange-haired figure toward the lifts. At the last moment, before she was forced to step into the empty shaft, Clara broke free and folded herself into nothingness. By the time Johnny reached the bridge at the top of the ship, his sister was there waiting for him.

Johnny hated leaving the
Spirit of London
so soon, but he had to get back to Halader House before Miss Harutunian returned from New York. Plus, after everything that had happened, it was more important than ever to speak with Bram. Clara refused point-blank to let her brother take a shuttle and demanded the right to fold Johnny straight into his bedroom, the site of the Cornicula Worm's link with Melania.

Alf's protestations that Clara did altogether too much folding, which couldn't possibly be good for her, were met with such a withering look that the android fell silent.

Holding Bentley and wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and trainers, Johnny said goodbye to his sister and stepped through Clara's portal between his quarters on the
Spirit of London
and the attic room of the children's home. At once it was clear that someone had been in there. That wasn't meant to be allowed under Halader House rules but, whoever they were, they had cleared up. Johnny hated anyone else putting his stuff away. Miss Harutunian had been nagging him about cleaning his room, but she'd never actually tidied up after him before—he knew she'd see that as losing the “battle of wills.” While Johnny had to hope she was still in New York, he'd rather it had been his social worker going through his things than Mr. Wilkins.

Poor Bentley made a half-hearted attempt to sniff around the room, but crossing the fold proved too much for the sheepdog who crawled under the bed to curl up in front of the large, old-fashioned radiator. Johnny sat on his (for once) crumple-free duvet and wondered if, this time, he would be able to speak with the Emperor of the galaxy. Early morning sunlight was streaming through the dormer window, but that only served to disguise the fuzzy, glittering patch of air, just above where Johnny was sitting. He closed his eyes and thrust his neck forward, praying the Wormhole was once again connected at the other end. Cold air washed over his face. Opening just the left
eye first, in case an annoying Phasmeer was standing before him, he quickly followed with the right. He found himself gazing toward an eerie blue fire in the center of an ancient courtyard. It was night on the galaxy's capital, but he could make out the silhouette of a robed figure sitting, with his back to Johnny, in front of the flames. Relief washed over him—finally everything was going to be OK. “Bram,” he said softly.

His Majesty the Emperor Bram Khari stood up, turned slowly away from the fire, lowered his hood and smiled. As he walked through the darkness toward Johnny, the air around him was lit by the Emperor's sparkling white hair. “Johnny—it pleases me to stand before you now and see you safely returned to Earth.”

“It wasn't easy,” Johnny replied, “but it's a long story. Where were you?”

“I am sorry—enormously so—to have missed you, but I was on a quest.” Bram paused, as though deciding how much, if anything, to say. Close up, the Emperor's face was far more lined than Johnny remembered from his first time on the Imperial capital, as though someone had thrown a cobweb across it. “I deeply regret that you came so far and were not able to wait within the palace for my return. An explanation is in order. I have been searching for the world of my forebears.”

“Weren't you born on Melania?” Johnny asked, hoping he'd guessed the right meaning of “forebears.”

“Indeed I was, but the Imperial line, bent and part broken though it is, derives from a place named Lysentia.”

“I've heard of it,” said Johnny, remembering Alf's lessons on ancient galactic history, as well as the android's explanation of the statues on the way to the Senate.

“Would that you could tell me its location,” said Bram. “That world is lost—now no more than a legend from long ago. Yet, were I to locate it, I believe the course of this war would quickly change.
Every day the situation becomes more desperate. If Lysentia cannot be found, there will be no choice but to set forth into the great void between the galaxies and do battle there, as far away as I can from the innocents who would otherwise be harmed. Naturally, I ask you not to recount this conversation to others.”