Battle for Earth by Keith Mansfield Read Free Book Online Page B

and he’d very much like to know how the cook came to be stepping out of a deserted broom cupboard, but now probably wasn’t the time to ask. Had he been buried under the coats? As Mr. Wilkins closed the office door behind him, Mrs. Irvine focused on Johnny again and said, “Well, Jonathan?”
    He knew his face was as red as a traffic light. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “We didn’t mean any harm.”
    â€œWhat, exactly, did you see, young man?”
    â€œIt was dark—we couldn’t find the light switch and we only had one flashlight,” said Johnny, waving it in the air. “We’d just gone down to have a look around and Mr. Wilkins came out of the cupboard in the corner.” It didn’t seem wise to tell her Ashvin had picked the lock first and that there hadn’t been the slightest hint of the giant cook.
    It felt as if the Manager was X-raying him. She stared in silence, her lips pencil thin. Johnny couldn’t bear it for long.
    Compelled to talk, he asked, “Is Mr. Wilkins … Gilbey, OK?” He’d discovered the cook’s hilarious first name a few months before.
    â€œMr. Wilkins will be fine,” said Mrs. Irvine, the tone of her voice making clear there would be no further discussion on that particular matter. “And this is everything that happened in the basement?” Johnny nodded. “Let us hope so,” the Manager continued. “Have you heard the story of Pandora, Jonathan?” He shook his head, wondering where, what or who Pandora might be. “There are some boxes that are better left unopened. Once they are unlocked, it may be impossible to close the lid.”
    Perhaps Dave was right and Mrs. Irvine was going mad.
    The Manager continued, “Other than school, you shall divide your time between your bedroom and the dining room for the next fortnight. You will not set foot in the common room and on no account will you go anywhere near the basement. Do I make myself clear?”
    Johnny nodded again. He’d never been grounded before—it seemed completely unfair.
    â€œSomeone will be checking on you later, so there will be no sneaking away to meet your friends. If, for any reason, you fail to follow these instructions,” said Mrs. Irvine, “I shall have no choice but to inform the school you are unable to participate in extracurricular activities … namely soccer. There will be no second chances.”
    Johnny gulped and nodded again.
    â€œVery well, Jonathan. You may go.”

    It was ridiculous. Johnny paced the floor of his bedroom wondering exactly when someone’s face would pop through the trapdoor and it would be safe for him to leave. He’d called Sol on his wristcom and also spoken to Alf. Remarkably, the traceon Peter had briefly resurfaced on an island called Santorini, somewhere in the Mediterranean. Johnny knew he’d heard of it, but couldn’t think why. Louise was desperate to go after him, but the android had refused, saying they couldn’t afford to be without any shuttles in case of emergency. It sounded as though Louise thought this certainly qualified, but Alf had stood his ground. Johnny promised he’d be returning with the
Bakerloo
the instant it was safe to get away.
    For something to do he poked his head into the second Cornicula Wormhole. This one led to Pluto Base where the few surviving Tolimi, very short aliens rescued from the recent Alpha Centauri supernova, had set up home. Nicky had caused the cataclysm while acting as Nymac, under the control of a being known only as the Nameless One.
    Now, for the first time ever, the base was deserted. Instead of the usual hive of activity, everything he could see (admittedly not much as the Wormhole made it very hard to look anywhere other than straight ahead) had been tidied away and turned off.
    Fed up, he pulled his head out and collapsed on his bed, looking at the stars. There was the Big