THE LONDONERS: 2. Silent Running – Opening Chapters
1
THE ANTIGRAVITY SPACESHIP
The red planet, Mars, was serenely orbiting the Sun. A number of robotic devices had touched its surface, some even spending years crawling across its skin. Six such pesky devices were crawling along its skin right now, drilling, analysing and gathering samples. And Mars had no idea that the people who created and sent all these devices were planning a personal imminent visit …
In South Ockendon, just north of the Dartford Tunnel not too far from the Thames estuary, four children were glued to their living room TV monitor. In order of the oldest to the youngest, they were Catherine, Kevin, Sean and Libby. Catherine was aged twelve and she was the oldest and wisest. She was the leader of the Londoners. Kevin was eleven, athletic, strong and good at computing and technology. Sean was also eleven but about six months younger than Kevin. He was brave and imaginative, but sometimes too impulsive and overenthusiastic, often acting before putting his brain into gear. And last but not least, there was Libby, the youngest, aged nine. She was quite shy but with a happy disposition. Nevertheless, despite being easily scared she was very brave and sometimes cheeky, often forming a comedy duet with Sean. Catherine, Sean and Libby were siblings and Kevin was their cousin. They were all Campbells and they were highly adventurous. They called themselves the Londoners—and so did everyone else.
Just then, Catherine, Sean and Libby’s older sister Courtney popped her head through the living room door—at sixteen, she was too old to be a member of the Londoners.
“How long to lift-off?” she asked.
“Just under 42 minutes,” said Kevin. “See, look? There’s a countdown at the bottom of the screen,” he added, pointing at the bottom of the large 76-inch TV screen.
“Ah, I see,” answered Courtney. “42 minutes 23 seconds and counting. I’ll just make myself a mug of tea and join you for the lift-off. Anyone else want a mug of tea?”
“They’ve all got their own fizzy drinks,” said Catherine, without taking her eyes of the TV screen. “But I wouldn’t mind a mug of Rosie Lee. Milk, two sugars as usual.
Minutes later …
“Hey, is that Mum and Dad on the telly?” asked Courtney, wandering into the living room with two mugs of tea, one for herself and one that she handed to Catherine before taking a seat beside Libby on the settee.
“Yeah,” said Sean from his armchair. “They’re fitting and checking out the astronaut spacesuits for lift-off in the Pre-Flight Astronaut Preparation Room. This is the best job Mum and Dad have ever had. I knew Mum and Dad were working on the Mars project, but I didn’t think they’d get to do jobs like this and be on the telly. And it’s all because they won the Plant Growing Mars Mission assistants job after winning the European Space Agency competition aimed to create local interest in the project.”
“But there’s only 37 minutes and a bit to lift-off,” said Courtney. “How can they get to the spaceship and be ready for lift-off?”
“It’s less than a five-minute walk from the small Main Space Centre Building to the launch pad,” said Sean. “It’s not like those big rockets we’re used to. This is a small spaceship using antigravity propulsion. The spaceship’s just about as big as the ground floor of our house. The lift-off is very calm and almost silent. Just a soft hum that will hardly be heard above any breeze on a pretty sunny day. In fact, I can’t even see the point in them being suited up. There can’t possibly be a need for them to be wearing a spacesuit on take-off. There’ll only be taking them off the moment they clear the Earth’s atmosphere. And they certainly don’t need Mum and Dad to help suit them up. They’re trained to suit each other up ready to take a walk on the Red Planet. It’s more of a tradition than a protocol, I suppose.”
“Do you really think this anti-gravity business is for real?” questioned Kevin. “Perhaps this is one hell of a wind-up, a humongous hoax. I mean, antigravity propulsion? That can’t have just been invented out of the blue.”
“Oh, it’s definitely true, all right,” said Sean. “Dad told me they’ve already tested it. They did it in secret. Went to the blooming Moon, landed on it, and came back. They didn’t even bother to go for a moonwalk, as they just wanted to get on with it and go to Mars. Took off and landed on the same launch pad, there on Darnet Island. Dad says the European Space Agency is all hush hush about the origin of the antigravity space propulsion unit. Between you and me, I think it’s alien.”
“No wonder the dreaded Spy Ring has been reported as attempting to steal the antigravity unit,” said Libby. “If that device was to get in their hands, just imagine the mischief they would get up to.”
“And what makes matters worse,” added Sean, “this is the only known existence of the antigravity unit. The scientists have been unable to reverse engineer it or understand how it works.”
“Seems to be a bit risky putting the unit out in the open,” put in’s. “The Spy Ring thugs are bound to try some sort of theft or sabotage, no matter how tight the security is on Darnet Island.”
“Dad says everyone directly involved in the launch has been vetted, so I just can’t see how the Spy Ring can affect anything,” said Sean. “One of the reasons for the launch is to get the antigravity space propulsion unit out of the Spy Ring’s reach while the leading anti-crime agencies in the world make every effort to take them out. What better way than to deliver the unit to Mars where it will surely be safe. Apparently they have enough provisions and know-how to survive on Mars for at least a year and the additional two-month journey time, a month there and a month back.”
“Thank goodness, everything’s going well,” said Catherine. “In 20 minutes the space ship will be up and away and we won’t have to worry about the Spy Ring. Now that there are such high stakes, I’m sure the Spy Ring will be captured and locked up. And that will be that.”
Catherine dusted her hands in a confident gesture, but she had perhaps gestured too early because …
Just then, the live feed from the Darnet Island Space Centre was lost.
“Oh dear,” said Catherine, “perhaps I spoke too soon.”
“I hope Darnet Island hasn’t been bombed,” said Libby, looking extremely worried.
2
UNSUSPECTING ASTRONAUTS
BUT JUST THEN, on the living room TV, the European Space Agency TV presenter for the Plant Growing Mars Mission, appeared in her London-based studio with a reassuring smile on her face.
“Sorry about that, but all our video feeds from the Darnet Island Space Centre building have been terminated. No reason has been given but we have had an audio call to say everything is fine and the lift-off is still on schedule.”
“Phew, that’s a relief,” said Libby. “It’s a pity we probably won’t see any more of Mum and Dad on the telly.”
Meanwhile in the Pre-Flight Astronaut Preparation Room of the Darnet Island Main Space Centre Building …
“I put a spanner in the works of the CCTV system. Mike,” said Co-Captain Anthony Simpson. Usually, the handsome black American astronaut had a perpetual grin on his face, but now it displayed a concerned grimace.
“Huh?” questioned Mike Campbell the father of the Londoners.
“I sent the signal to switch off the TV broadcast signals. Everything I warned you about has come to pass.”
“What?” put in Sandra Campbell the mother of the Londoners.
“Yes, we’ve been scuppered as we expected,” said Co-Captain Simpson.
“You’re joking, right?” said Mike.
“Nope. Now you know the real reason I put so much effort and time into allowing you to use the spaceship’s piloting simulator. You and Sandra were unlikely to be suspected as being able to fulfil the Mars mission by the Spy Ring. There’s nothing you can’t do with the Darwin, and it’s your choice, but you and Sandra can take a ride in her to the Red Planet. Couldn’t tell you until now. Sure you get it.”
“No, I don’t get it. I really don’t. But why can’t you go?”
“We have been mortally poisoned,” put in Co-Captain Lana Suzuki, who happened to have been born in the same town as Mike—Slough, or Langley Village in the suburbs of Slough to be more accurate. Lana’s Japanese parents were proud of her selection as the British astronaut to take part in the Plant Growing Mars Mission.
“Yeah,” added botanist Beatrice Dubois, “we could just about make it into orbit, but we’d die an hour into the mission. So Sandra now you know why I insisted on giving you some in-depth training on the plant growing aspect of the Mars mission. I had to try every trick in the book to gain your interest. Pay bonus, promise of a qualification. Thank goodness I never gave up.”
“That’s about the rub of it,” added the fourth and final astronaut, Dr Raja Patel, a well-spoken Indian astronaut, he was the Medical expert and Chief Scientist of the mission. “We’ve been poisoned with a radio-active material. Polonium isotope 210, that’s polonium-210, to be precise. I realised it just after the pre-mission breakfast this morning. I only tested for it because we all suddenly experienced mild stomach pains and because we expected some sort of sabotage, and me being an expert in radiation. If I was not on the lookout for such an attack, I would not have discovered it. Mike and Sandra you have everything you need to complete the mission.”
“We can’t go to Mars, Mike,” said Sandra, a look of fear mixed with concern in her eyes sheltered beneath tightly clenching eyebrows.
“Why not?” questioned Co-Captain Simpson. “If you don’t go to the Darwin right now, the mission will fail and the technology will be taken by the Spy-Ring using their criminal methods.
“It’s not that,” said Mike. “My wife has a medical problem of her own that makes it unlikely she could take the trip.”
“Are you sure it is not preventative?” questioned Dr Patel. “I checked Sandra out myself. It was one of the needs of the competition. You had to be healthy. What medical condition do you have?”
“Mike,” said Sandra, “I know you; you’ll go because it’s the right thing to do. You’ll sacrifice everything. I know you will. So, I’ll just have to go too.” She turned to Dr Patel. “Forget my medical problem. I’ll cope. After all, I have survived the condition a handful of times before. And each time it gets easier to get through. And the Darwin is safe enough.”
“What is the medical problem?” asked Co-Captain Suzuki.
Sandra whispered something into the co-captain’s ear.
Co-Captain Suzuki’s eyes lit up and a brief smile stretched across her recently pained face. She turned to her fellow astronauts. “It’s nothing to write home about. She’ll be just fine. I think she best keep her condition to herself.”
“If it goes away, will it come back?” asked Dubois.
“Not before the mission is hopefully over, at least,” said Co-Captain Suzuki. She turned to Sandra. “Will it ever come back in the future?” Co-Captain Suzuki had a cheeky look on her face.
Sandra turned to her husband, Mike. He just shrugged his shoulders, murmured something illegible and stared at his feet and struggled to stop his cheeks filling up with blood.
“Right, Mike,” said Co-Captain Simpson, “quickly; you and Sandra get the spacesuits on and get yourselves off to the Darwin ready for lift-off. As we practised, you need to operate emergency avoidance manoeuvre 7.3 option 5, which you also know as the Silent Running protocol. The trolley loaded with duplicate panels and various rubbish is ready by the entry airlock. You know what to do.”
“No probs, Captain,” said Mike.
“And there’s definitely the four extra reserve spacesuits onboard the Darwin?” asked Sandra.
“Of course,” said Co-Captain Simpson.
“Okay then Mike, let’s get our spacesuits on and get going before we think of bottling out,” said Sandra.
Ten minutes later, back in the Londoners’ South Ockendon living room on their huge 76-inch TV, the European Space Agency TV presenter for the Plant Growing Mars Mission, appeared in her London-based studio with a big smile on her face.
“Great news!” she said with genuine excitement. “The outside launch pad TV cameras are operational. We will soon see the four astronauts leaving the small Main Space Centre Building and heading to the Darwin to shortly take off. Taking you to the live feed …”
The TV showed the launch pad area.
“There she is,” said the TV presenter over the live feed. “The Darwin. A spaceship unlike any other. Looking little more than a highly technological metal-skinned bungalow gleaming under the late summer sun. Oh, and here come the astronauts … well two of them anyway.”
“That’s strange seeing just two of the astronauts leaving the Main Space Centre Building on their own,” said Catherine. “You’d think they would all walkout together, wouldn’t you?”
“Hey, just a minute!” exclaimed Sean, standing up in shock from his armchair.
“What is it, Sean?” said Libby. “What’s up with you?”
“Those two astronauts—they’re Mum and Dad! Mum’s the leading astronaut. I’d recognise her drunken bear-like wobble from anywhere—even wearing a spacesuit. And Dad’s just behind her. Surely you recognise his slouching gorilla-like barrelling walk.”
“Oh my goodness,” said Catherine, standing up from the settee. “It is them. It’s definitely Mum and Dad. What are they up to? Why are they wearing spacesuits?”
“The two astronauts are heading up the landing ramp of the Darwin …” said the TV presenter. “They are in the spaceship, and now the landing ramp is slowly lifting up and hinging closed. But what happened to the other two astronauts?”
“This is Space Centre Control,” said a voice-over on the live TV feed. “Due to a medical emergency, the Plant Growing Mars Mission will now be using just two astronauts. None of the original four astronauts are able to make the journey having been poisoned. Instead, the two brave astronauts taking their place are none other than Mike and Sandra Campbell, the parents of the famous Londoners. They were secretly trained to take on the mission in the case of Spy Ring sabotage. The countdown is underway with just 90 seconds to lift-off.”
“Oh my goodness,” said Sean. “Dad told me Co-Captain Simpson was allowing him to have a go on the Darwin flight simulator, but I thought it was just for fun. Dad told me that with all the practice he has had that the Darwin was easy to control and fly. He said he had succeeded in all possible scenarios. You know, orbits, space walks and landings and stuff.”
“Space Centre Control to the Darwin, ready yourselves for the 10-second countdown.”
“This is new Co-Captain Mike Campbell to Space Centre Control. Co-Captain Sandra Campbell and I are ready for the 10-second countdown to launch.”
Space Centre Control began the 10-second countdown …
“Ten … Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One … LIFT-OFF!” sounded the voice of the Chief Space Centre Controller.
The Londoners and Courtney watched their TV as the Darwin rose silently from the launch pad and accelerated up into the blue late summer’s sky.
“The antigravity internal and external systems are all nominal,” said the voice of Co-Captain Mike Campbell. “There is absolutely no g-force. The only sign that we are accelerating upwards are the instrument panel readings and the few puffy clouds whooshing past and down beneath us. Erm, leaving Earth’s atmosphere now. There are no signs of any stars because our initial flight path heads us towards the sun.”
“Warning! Warning!” rang out the voice of the Chief Space Centre Controller. “Satellite missile launch detected!”
“We see it, Space Centre Control,” said Mike. “Taking evasive manoeuvre 7.3 option 5. I reckon even my son Sean could pull off this manoeuvre.”
Seconds later, up high in the sky a bright mushrooming explosion of light could be seen above the launch pad, magnified by the TV live feed.
White noise sounded over the TV …
“This is Space Centre Control,” said the Chief Space Centre Controller. “We are sorry to give you the sad news that all communication with the Darwin has been lost and our satellite radar detection system is only picking up debris consistent with the Darwin’s materials. It seems manoeuvre 7.3 was unsuccessful.”
The living room of the Londoners was shocked into a dreaded silence.
3
MARINA PARK BOARDING SCHOOL
TWO WEEKS LATER the four Londoners found themselves forced to attend and live in a small private boarding school in a town called Hoo. The Marina Park Boarding School on 185a Vicarage Lane, Hoo Marina Park, was six miles from their home in South Ockendon, and a ten-minute ferry ride to the recently vacated Space Centre on Darnet Island.
Right now, the Londoners were spilling into the School Refectory, which was more or less just a large dining room where food would be served through a small kitchen serving hatch. They queued and collected their lunchtime bread and soup and took a seat at a large pinewood table near the window that looked out upon the nearby fields. Heavy rain spattered against the windowpanes.
“What a miserable day, not that were ever allowed outside this prison of a school to experience it,” said Catherine.
“Yeah, and this soup looks more watery than ever,” added a miserable looking Libby.
“How can such a cruel school exist?” questioned Sean, his face crumpled into a dark look of gloom.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that Mr and Mrs Fothergill are working for the Spy Ring,” said Kevin. “They’re owners of the school; headmaster and headmistress and teachers of four school subjects. This is a school of minimal staff and maximum cruelty. I bet they’re being paid a pretty penny to keep us imprisoned here. Let’s face it; this prison is a boarding school only in name.”
“Yeah, and what sort of school has only five pupils?” questioned Libby. “See, look? There she goes to the small table in the far corner of the refectory. Just one other pupil, and she doesn’t even talk or sit with us. And oh, doesn’t she look so really sad.”
“Don’t we all,” added Sean.
“Well,” said Catherine, “if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go to the mountain.” Catherine pushed her chair back and stood up, causing the table to judder the four soup bowls. She made her way to the small table in the corner.
“Hi, Panjali,” said Catherine to the sad looking 11-year-old. “How are you?”
“What?” blurted Panjali looking slightly confused.
“We Londoners were just wondering how you are.”
“Surviving. Now get the lost and let me tuck in to my gourmet watery spam and cabbage soup.”
“But don’t you want any friends, Panjali?” Catherine gave Panjali a concerned look, and took a seat facing her.
“I don’t make friends with people who are friends of Kevin Campbell, thank you very much. And I prefer to be called Pan rather than Panjali. Now unless you don’t want to be covered in watery spam and cabbage soup, get lost!” Pan’s eyebrows scrunched together, giving her face a rather intimidating look.
“Look, Pan. We’re all suffering in this prison of a school, so whatever your beef with Kevin is, surely you can get over it, although I can’t see what your beef can possibly be.”
“Listen, you idiot. You don’t know what suffering is.” A huge shiny teardrop rolled down Pan’s face. “Have you ever wondered why I wear long sleeves and dark clothing?”
“Er, what? What do you mean?” Catherine looked befuddled.
Pan slowly lifted up to her elbow the arm of her dark-brown sweatshirt.
Catherine gasped and found herself jerking back in her seat in shock. Pan’s brown-skinned forearm was covered in bruises. They were black, purple and browny-yellow, and some were leaking blood.
“I don’t understand,” stuttered a confused Catherine slowly leaning forwards, morbidly magnetised by the severe bruising of Pan’s forearm.
“I’m covered in bruises from head to foot. Mr and Mrs Fothergill beat me every night. They take turns punching me, and they threaten they’ll have my dad murdered in prison if I tell anyone. And that’s why I hate Kevin. It was his parents that were put in prison for poisoning the four Plant Growing Mars Mission astronauts. And they must have said that my dad was in on it. Otherwise, why would my dad be imprison?”
“Huh, I don’t know what you’re talking about? Kevin’s parents most definitely had nothing to do with the radioactive poisoning of the astronauts. So I guess your dad must be Mr Singh the Darnet Island caretaker. We Londoners always thought that your dad must be part of the Spy Ring.”
“Of course he isn’t. If your mum and dad were still alive, I’m sure they would tell you that my dad could never be part of the Spy Ring or break any laws. He’s been set up.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t Kevin’s parents who set your dad up. It’s obvious that all three of them were set up by the Spy Ring. It’s a cover for the real poisoner or poisoners.”
“Do you really think so?” Pan looked solemnly into Catherine’s eyes.
“Definitely. Now, why don’t you come and discuss it with us at our table by the window?”
“I’m scared to sit with you.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr and Mrs Fothergill might give me an even greater beating for having friends.”
“They go out at lunchtime to the pub. Haven’t you noticed how they smell of booze in the first lesson after lunch?” Catherine gave Pan a confirming nod.
“You sure?”
“Certain.”
“What if the cook tells them I sat with you?”
“I don’t think it matters anymore, Pan. Because having seen your forearm and realising that you must be covered in these ferocious bruises all over your body, you and we Londoners are going to escape this prison at the first possible opportunity.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. Now, come on, Pan. Come and join us.”
Over the next few minutes, Catherine explained to the other Londoners the reasons behind Pan’s reclusive behaviour. When they saw Pan’s forearm, they were stunned. Libby almost puked up in her spam and cabbage soup.
Minutes later …
“So, we are going to plan an escape with Pan?” questioned Libby.
“Yes,” said Catherine. “We’ll turn it into one of our famous adventures.”
“Well, we need to escape not just from the school, but to somewhere secret,” said Kevin. “Where will we go?”
“I know where we can go,” said Pan.
“Where?” asked Catherine.
“Darnet Island!”
“What?” Catherine looked surprised. “How would we get there? There’s no ferry going to Darnet Island anymore. The place has been closed down, hasn’t it? I suppose we could build a raft or something like that. We could never risk swimming, because the currents in the River Medway are too strong and unpredictable.”
“There’s a service tunnel from the Kingsnorth 500kV Substation, which was updated to provide a smooth, consistent electricity supply for the Space Centre on the island,” revealed Pan. “It’s called the Darnet Island Service Tunnel. My dad always used the Darnet Island Service Tunnel when he went to work or had to attend meetings back in the substation. There’s a building there that is for sole European Space Agency use.”
“Can we get into this tunnel?” asked Kevin. “Surely there’s some security to prevent illegal use.”
“I’ve got my dad’s security pass reserve copy,” said Pan optimistically. “I took it before the authorities dumped me off in this disgusting school. I hoped one day that I might be able to use it to get to the island for an adventure or two.”
“Maybe everything is all closed off,” suggested Sean. “Kevin and I have spied a few dimmed security lights coming from the island from our bedroom window, but we’ve seen no sign of any movement. No helicopters visiting the island. No vehicle headlights firing through the night.”
“Ah yes, but if there are security lights, then there must be an electrical supply,” pointed out Kevin. “I would expect that there is some sort of light maintenance going on. You can’t just close down a Space Centre, can you? And I’m pretty sure that means the Darnet Island Service Tunnel will still be usable. We’ve got to just hope that we don’t attempt to use the tunnel when any maintenance crews are using it.”
“Pan, do you know if there is any food and drink on the island?”
“Loads.” said Pan. “Especially in my dad’s old CCTV Security and Caretaker Building. If we can just get there without being detected, then I’m quite sure we can stay undetected for months on end if we’re careful.”
“So have you been through the Darnet Island Service Tunnel with your dad?” asked Catherine.
“Loads of times. He brought me to his building early in the morning on many weekends. No one even knew I was there. It’s quite easy to remain unseen if you know what you’re doing. You can travel through the Darnet Island Service Tunnel behind a side alcove that allows access to the electrical cabling that the tunnel is mainly used for. In fact, there is a fork in the tunnel that leads directly to the CCTV Security and Caretaker Building. So if we can get into the tunnel, we just have to hope there is no one at the exit to the CCTV Security and Caretaker Building.”
“What would be the best time to attempt to use the tunnel, Pan?” asked Catherine.
“Well, tomorrow’s Wednesday. If we could escape tonight at about 10 PM, that’s an hour before my beating is due, then as the Kingsnorth Substation is less than half a mile eastwards down the coast, we could easily get to the tunnel before 11 PM before our escape from the school could be detected and reported to the police. I’m pretty sure there won’t be much security, if any, around the tunnel entrance at this time of night, and almost certainly no one will be in the CCTV Security and Caretaker Building. Anyway, what better choice do we have?”
“We’ve all got a backpack and a suitcase that we can take on the escape,” said Catherine. “Basically, we can escape from the school with exactly the same things we arrived with. How about you, Pan?”
“Same, as it happens. And there should be plenty of washing up powder and a washing machine and dryer in the living quarters of the CCTV Security and Caretaker Building. We just have to hope that there’s been no clearing out. I don’t think there would have been as surely the European Space Agency who more or less co-own Darnet Island along with the UK government must be considering some alternative future use of the Space Centre. Even if it’s just to sell it off.”
“That settles it then,” said Catherine. “We’re going to escape tonight.” Catherine slammed her fist down on the table causing five empty soup bowls to rattle.
