The Armoured Ghost Read online

  Snow looked hurt. She had hoped he’d be more impressed with her discovery.

  ‘OK,’ she murmured.

  ‘You were smart to notice it, though,’ Rake told her, trying to make her feel better. ‘You need to be sharp like that to be a Gladiator.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ she said. ‘Whatever. See you later, Rake.’

  They headed off in different directions. They had training next, and Rake didn’t want to be late. But as he hurried towards the cadet training block, the discovery of the fake blood was really bothering him. Something dodgy was going on in the Gladiator Games.

  Chapter 4

  Stick Fighting

  THE STICK WAS padded, but it still hurt as it smacked into the side of Rake’s head.

  ‘Aargh!’ he yelped.

  ‘Gotcha!’ his opponent cried, cackling to himself.

  A light flashed on the end of the boy’s weapon to show he had scored a point. Rake raised his own stick into guard position and stopped the next blow before it could hit him in the ribs. He knocked the other boy’s stick aside and jabbed him in the stomach. His own stick flashed. The boy grunted and fell to the floor, holding his belly. His name was Hoax, and he was Rake’s best friend.

  ‘You OK?’ Rake asked.

  Even with the sponge padding round the sticks, and the mats on the floor, the cadets picked up plenty of bruises.

  ‘Sure,’ Hoax replied. ‘This reminds me of that time I was attacked by that tiger in India. It was like these sticks, soft on the outside but hard on the inside. Only with really big claws. I barely escaped with my life.’

  Rake rolled his eyes and helped his friend up. Hoax was a hopeless liar. His first reaction to any question or any sign of trouble was to lie. Once you got used to him, you could normally tell when he was actually being honest. Often, it was when he looked awkward and a bit shifty.

  With red hair, white freckled skin and pale blue eyes, Hoax could put on an innocent face instantly. But he was loyal to his friends and Rake trusted him . . . most of the time. As sparring partners they were well matched. Hoax was a little younger and smaller, but they were about the same build and skill level. Even so, Rake always had a slight edge.

  ‘How big was that tiger?’ Rake asked.

  ‘It was, like, this wide,’ Hoax exclaimed, spreading his hands as wide apart as they’d go.

  Rake hit him across the chest with the sponge-covered stick, knocking him over again. Lifting his own arms, he held the flashing stick over his head, shaking it in a victory dance. All around them in the training hall, the other cadets paused for a moment to watch Rake parade around his fallen opponent. Snow was there too, over in one corner. Rake had noticed her giving him some funny looks.

  ‘You snea— sneaky clacker!’ Hoax coughed, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘That’s what you get for lying,’ Rake told him.

  ‘Go chew a shoe!’ Hoax got to his feet, holding up his hand as Rake came in at him again. ‘Hang on a second. Gotta . . . gotta get my breath back.’

  They waited there for a minute, as the smacks and thuds of the stick-fighting training went on around them. The instructor looked over, but she didn’t shout at them. She knew Rake and Hoax were keen enough – they didn’t take breaks unless they really needed them.

  ‘They’ve moved me to another department,’ Hoax said, as he rested on one knee.

  ‘What? Where?’ Rake asked.

  Like him, Hoax had worked for Domestic Services.

  ‘The Costume Department,’ Hoax muttered.

  ‘Where?!’ Rake laughed. ‘The Costume Department? Not even the Armour Department? You’re going to be making costumes?’

  ‘Keep your voice down, you rump,’ Hoax hissed. ‘Everybody’ll hear!’

  Rake smiled, but did as his friend asked. Whenever the Gladiators weren’t in their armour, they all wore flashy costumes if they were appearing on television, or in front of an Arena audience.

  ‘At least there’s lots of girls there,’ Rake chuckled. ‘And you’ll get to work with some fabulous colours and fabrics!’

  ‘Get lost,’ Hoax retorted. ‘I’ll probably meet more Gladiators than you’ll ever see mopping floors in the Arena. Mad Jack is in there every other week, looking for his new look. You know they make the costumes for every single Gladiator, right there in that department? Even the ones for warriors that come from other planets. The place is huge!’

  Rake was going to point out that this couldn’t be true. Gladiators came from all over the galaxy. Why would all the costumes be made in one place on Earth? That reminded Rake of Snow’s discovery – the fake blood. He hadn’t told Hoax yet, but he wanted to. Maybe this evening, when they could go somewhere quieter.

  Hoax nodded when he was ready to start again, but as they raised their sticks, Stamper walked into the hall. He was dressed like the cadets in a tunic, loose trousers and a belt with an identity disc in the clasp. But while they wore white, he was dressed in brown, the colour of an assistant instructor.

  ‘Oh, fantastic,’ Rake sighed.

  Stamper went up to the instructor and said something into her ear. She nodded.

  ‘All right, hold up!’ she shouted and the hall came to an immediate standstill. ‘I have to leave early. The assistant instructor will finish the session.’

  With that, she walked out. Stamper clapped his hands and grinned at them.

  ‘OK, I’m going to show you a new move,’ he said. ‘I’ll be unarmed. Who wants to attack me with a stick?’

  A hush settled over the hall. The cadets knew what Stamper was like.

  ‘I’ll have a go!’ Rake called up.

  Some of the other cadets shook their heads. Rake was always first to volunteer – anything to get attention.

  ‘Ah, Rake,’ Stamper said, smiling. ‘Thought you might.’

  Rake quickly moved up opposite the older boy, who held up his hands like a magician to show that they were empty. Rake raised his stick and, in one quick move, swung it down towards Stamper’s head. Stamper stepped to the side, deflected the stick with his arm and slammed his forearm back into Rake’s chest. As he did, he hooked his foot in behind Rake’s ankle, tripping him up. Stamper dropped onto the younger boy as he fell, knocking the wind out of him. He got his victim in a painful armlock. He put it on a lot harder than he needed to.

  ‘I told you to clean my room yesterday, you worm,’ Stamper whispered in Rake’s ear, so no one else would hear. ‘Mess with me and I’ll mess you up. Got it?’

  Grabbing the hair at the back of Rake’s head, he lifted the younger boy up onto his feet. Rake hissed, trying not to show the pain.

  ‘Right, who wants to see that again?’ Stamper asked the cadets.

  ‘I do!’ Hoax exclaimed.

  Chapter 5

  Identity Discs

  RAKE SAT OUT on the roof of the cadet training block. Cadets were forbidden to come out here, but he needed some quiet time. And from here, he could see some of the city. Nu-Topia. Since joining the Academy, Rake had only been into the city twice – both times, he had been in a group of cadets taken out for a day tour. With their soaring towers and gentle curves, the shining polished buildings of Nu-Topia looked like another world. Sometimes the Academy felt more like a prison.

  It had been a hard session that afternoon, finishing up with half an hour on the running machines. Rake rubbed the back of his neck where Stamper had nearly pulled the hair out at the roots. The dinner bell would ring in a few minutes. He’d have to rush his meal if he was going to get out and clean Stamper’s room before the older boy got back.

  Stamper and some of the other young Gladiators used the junior cadets as their slaves. They got them to do jobs for them, bullied them and sometimes even practised some of their nastier fighting moves on them.

  Rake had stood up to Stamper when he first came to the Academy. And ever since, Stamper had targeted him for the worst treatment. Rake lifted his hands to his face. He wasn’t a wimp, but Stamper was a Gladiator now. He co
uld make Rake’s life a misery. If Rake told on the older boy, nothing would happen and everybody would hate him for being a squealer.

  ‘You shouldn’t have offered to hit him with the stick,’ Snow said from behind him. ‘Maybe if you stop giving him all that attitude, he’ll leave you alone.’

  Rake looked up. Snow was standing on the concrete slope, behind and to the left of him. Sitting down next to him, she stared at him with her big innocent eyes. Rake often wondered how this quiet little girl had ended up in the Academy, training to be a Gladiator.

  ‘I’ll never stop,’ he told her. ‘Stamper can go and rot. Someday I’ll be a Gladiator too, and I’ll kick his backside from one side of the Arena to the other.’

  ‘I bet you will,’ she said. She even sounded as if she believed it. ‘Listen, I was talking to Oddball in training. He was helping me on the chariot simulator. I’m still useless at it. Anyway, you know Oddball works in the Armour Department, right?’

  Rake nodded. Oddball was a bit of a geek, but he was OK. He was mad into doing little experiments and liked to make things with bits of scrap he dug out of the bins in the Armour and Weapons Departments. He talked about weird stuff all the time, as if his mind was on some other planet. Rake shook his head. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Snow and Oddball would be friends.

  ‘Well, I asked him about Mad Jack’s helmet,’ Snow said. ‘You know, to see if they were fixing it. To find out if there was anything strange about the helmet. And he doesn’t know about Mad Jack’s armour, but he’s been watching the guy who’s in charge of making the armour – that old guy, Salt.

  ‘So, Oddball, he’s pretty good at making stuff himself. He reckons that Salt is fooling with the armour sometimes. Oddball thinks that Salt is designing some of the armour so that it’s made to break when someone hits it.’ Snow frowned, puzzled by it all.

  Rake’s face was twisted up, not because he was confused, but because he was getting angrier by the second.

  ‘Why would they do that?’ Snow asked. ‘Why use fake blood to pretend someone’s injured, or make armour that’s designed to break when it gets hit?’

  ‘Because somebody’s cheating,’ Rake growled. ‘Gladiators come from all over the galaxy to compete in the Games. When the Armouron Knights disappeared, the Gladiators became the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Billions of spectators watch every fight from the stands or on the web. People can make a lot of money by betting on who will win a fight. Imagine how easy it would be to get that money if you knew someone was going to lose on purpose. Or if they lost because their armour was easy to break.’

  He looked out at the city and took a deep breath.

  ‘And the audience loves it when a Gladiator gets hit so hard his armour cracks open. You get extra points for that in a competition. The crowds go wild. Somebody is cheating – they’re fixing the competitions so they can make money. And if Salt is messing with the armour, then he’s right in the middle of the whole mess.’

  Rake stood up and turned towards the door that led into the stairwell.

  ‘There’s something else he told me,’ Snow said, pointing at the medallion on Rake’s belt, the one that marked his cadet grade. ‘Our medallions – they’re not just plastic discs.’

  ‘I know. They have all our identity info on them,’ Rake said.

  ‘And each one has a tracking device,’ Snow added. ‘If you’re wearing your belt, the instructors know exactly where you are.’

  Rake stared down at his belt. Any cadet who was found out of their dorm without their belt on was severely punished. He gritted his teeth and headed for the stairs.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Snow asked him.

  ‘I’m going to find out what the clack is going on,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ Snow chirped, as she followed him down the stairs.

  Chapter 6

  The Investigation

  IT TOOK RAKE a while to convince Snow that she couldn’t come with him. It was past lights-out: they were both supposed to be in bed. Cadets caught anywhere outside their dorm rooms after lights-out would catch hell from the instructors. And to make things worse, Rake was leaving his belt under the mattress of his bed. He didn’t want to be responsible for getting her in trouble. And he wanted to do this alone.

  Creeping along the dimly lit corridors, he made his way to the manufacturing block of the Academy. This was where the armour, weapons and chariots were made for the Gladiators. This part of the complex was made up of workshops and rooms filled with heavy machinery. Some of the lights were still on. As part of their training, the cadets had to learn about each section of the Academy. The large room that Rake had come to was Salt’s workshop, and the old man was still working.

  The door was only open a crack and Rake peeked through, watching the old engineer. Salt was a tall, stocky man. He looked about sixty, but could have been older. Despite his lined face and grey hair, he looked in excellent shape. There was a welding mask covering his face now. Salt put down the blowtorch he was using to weld a joint in a shield. He took off the mask and sighed, wiping sweat from his face.

  A hand came down on Rake’s shoulder, nearly making him jump out of his skin. With a thumping heart, he turned, expecting to see one of the instructors behind him. But it was only Oddball.

  ‘Hey! Snow said you’d be here,’ Oddball whispered. ‘I want to join your investigation.’

  He was a big guy, older than Rake, but like Rake he was a Grade Three. Dark-skinned, with short dreadlocks, Oddball wore a pair of goggles that never seemed to come unstuck from his face. Rake wondered if he slept with them on.

  ‘I’m not “investigating” anything,’ Rake growled back. ‘I’m just checking out some stuff. Get lost!’

  ‘Nope,’ Oddball said, shaking his head. He always spoke very quickly, as if he couldn’t get the words out fast enough for his hyperactive brain. ‘You’re going to need me. You don’t know your way around here well enough. And you don’t know anything about armour and materials and chemistry and stuff. If something was wrong, you wouldn’t be able to see it. Me, I’ve got the grey cells.’

  Rake was about to argue that he had enough grey cells of his own, when he spotted Salt coming towards the door. He pushed Oddball in front of him into a room on the other side of the corridor, closing the door after them. They watched through a narrow gap, as Salt came out of his workshop and headed off down the corridor, striding along with a walking stick and a heavy limp.

  The two boys crept out into the corridor after he was gone, and made their way cautiously into the workshop. The place was filled with workbenches, racks of hand tools, power tools and pieces of armour. Rake wasn’t sure where to start, so he went over to examine the shield Salt had been working on. He recognized it. It belonged to a Gladiator known as The Boulder.

  ‘It’s been made so it will break into pieces,’ Oddball said from behind him, reaching round to point at it. ‘See the lines, here and here? This gets hit and KA-BAM! It’ll break like a piece of glass.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rake said. ‘These are weak seams. The Boulder’s going to be in for a real shock when he goes to protect himself with this. So Salt is making faulty armour on purpose. We have to report him to the instructors. But we’ll need proof – something that’s small enough to sneak out of here. Let’s have a look and see what else we can find.’

  They had just started searching around when Oddball suddenly pushed Rake down behind a workbench that held a huge power drill. Someone was at the door of the workshop. They held their breaths, thinking that Salt had come back. But it was a much smaller figure that slipped in through the doorway. It was a girl, taller than Snow, but shorter than Rake. She moved quickly and quietly around the room, exploring every inch of the place.

  The girl was tanned, with an untidy mop of brown hair and a wiry build. Rake and Oddball exchanged looks. They didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t a cadet. Her clothes were like those of someone from the city. Brown baggy trousers with pockets on the legs,
a grey sweater with a hood and grey trainers. The intruder wore no medallion on her belt, no identity disc at all.

  She had a backpack with her and she was picking up some of the smaller pieces of armour and tucking them away into her pack. So the girl was a thief. She was coming closer to the workbench, but stopped at one of the computer consoles. Switching it on, she started to use the hologram screen to search the Academy database.

  ‘Grab her!’ Rake barked.

  Oddball jumped up and went to snatch hold of the girl. She kicked him in the stomach and leaped over the bench – but Rake was already moving around to the other side and he caught hold of her left arm as she landed. She tried to punch him with her right fist. He blocked the strike and spun her round. He forced her against the bench, locking her arm behind her. The girl wriggled and thrashed and spat at him.

  ‘Japes! It’s like trying to hold onto a fish!’ he grunted. ‘You’re not going anywhere, I’m good at this. Who are you and how did you get in here?’

  ‘Go smack yourself,’ she retorted.

  ‘Are you in with Salt?’ Rake pressed her. ‘Are you helping him fix the fights?’

  ‘What?’ she said, frowning. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Rake and Oddball looked at each other. If they took her to the Academy’s security guards, they’d have to explain why they were in the workshop themselves. Salt would be called for. They’d have to accuse the head of the Armour Department of cheating, right to his face. Suddenly, they were both very frightened. They weren’t sure what to do. What if he could explain the faulty armour? What if the security people were in on it? Then it occurred to Rake that this girl might be useful.

  ‘The old guy, Salt,’ Rake said to her, loosening the armlock a little. ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘Not much – but I know he’s hardcore,’ she replied, giving in a little as she twisted her head round to study Rake’s face. ‘I . . . I was caught stealing last night, by three of the White Knights.’