is no way back.”
*
Jack was sweating. He could hear the high-pitched whine from the powerful generators, even though they were well insulated within the underground complex. He glanced across at Angus who stood next to him on the platform, grinning inanely, still not believing his luck. He didn’t seem remotely concerned that he was about to be flushed down a wormhole to four hundred years in the past and a world that they would find totally alien. In front of them, Jack could see the small heads-up display. Taurus was counting down:
18. . . 17. . . 16. . .
Last time this had happened, Jack had been so frightened he had not noticed the physical changes around him in the Taurus chamber as they approached the event horizon – the point of no return. Around his feet he could see shimmering eddies of light. He supposed they were some sort of electrical disturbance, a bit like the ion-charged curtains of blue, red and green, that were known as the Northern Lights. The shimmering became stronger and it was as if he were standing in the rippling waters of an illuminated whirlpool. The atmosphere within the Taurus structure was also changing and the control room beyond appeared darker and fuzzier – as if you were looking at a badly tuned TV screen.
Suddenly, through the blast screen, he saw the Rector draw his hand dramatically across his throat, as if to say “Stop”. He was shouting and waving frantically, and immediately there was a flurry of activity in the control room. The Rector’s distorted words came through the audio feed.
“Abort! Abort!”
There was something wrong. But the countdown just continued.
7. . . 6. . . 5. . .
Jack felt panic surge through his body and he glanced over at Tony and Gordon for guidance. But there was nothing they could do. They could hear the Rector’s voice, desperately shouting, “Abort system – time fix malfunction… abort this mission – NOW!”
3. . . 2… 1
Jack looked down. Suddenly the flashing electrical whirlpool beneath them vanished and they were staring down into a black abyss.
The last thing he heard was his mum screaming, “Jack!”
Keep Your Head
Jack opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, staring into a bleak, grey sky. Suddenly, three large, golden lions floated gently across his field of vision. Jack blinked. It had happened. He was dead. He was in heaven; mystical golden lions were flying across the sky…
“Get up!”
Angus’s ruddy face loomed over him as he shook Jack by the shoulders.
Jack blinked again. Then he understood. He was staring at a giant flag that fluttered in a strong, wintry breeze just above their heads. The flag was split into quadrants – the upper left and lower right quadrants had dark blue backgrounds, each displaying three identical symbols that looked a bit like flowers. The other two quadrants each had a crimson background on which appeared the three golden lions – the lions that Jack had seen as they fluttered in the sky above him. Jack recognised the design of the flag from Miss Beattie’s book. They were English lions and French fleurs-de-lis. The English royal standard.
“I’ve no idea where we are, but there are loads of people down there…”
Jack pulled himself to his feet and rubbed his head. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
“What’s going on? What…”
But Jack was silenced by the view in front of him. It tookhis breath away. They were perched on top of a vertiginous, crenellated tower which rose high above one side of a massive medieval castle. They could see for miles in every direction – a flat, sparse landscape of muddy fields, marshes and scattered woodland. There was no foliage on the trees and it was bitingly cold. The stonework beneath their feet was wet from a recent downpour. Below them – it must have been over a hundred feet below – a slow-moving river meandered gently through the countryside. Nearby, there was a fine stone
Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller