The Titan War: Book Two of The George Hughes Trilogy

By Simon Dillon

From the author of The Martian Inheritance... The second spectacular adventure in The George Hughes Trilogy.

A year on from his adventures on Mars, George Hughes faces an even deadlier peril as he travels to Titan on an urgent rescue mission.

The mysterious Giles returns to help him, but assassins are once again on his tail, and a new, far greater alien menace lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Dillon
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005779696

Simon Dillon

I was born the year Steven Spielberg made moviegoers everywhere terrified of sharks. I lived the first twenty or so years of my life in Oxford, and am pleased to have spent so much time in the place where some of my favourite writers wrote their greatest works (including JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Philip Pullman). I like to think I can write a diverting tale, and as a result I have penned a few novels and short stories. I currently live in Plymouth in the UK, and am married with two children. I am presently brainwashing them with the same books that I loved growing up.

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The Titan War

Book Two of The George Hughes Trilogy

By Simon Dillon

Copyright 2013 Simon Dillon.

Revised 2022, previously published under the title George Goes to Titan.

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Foreword: This is a revised version of a novel previously published as George Goes to Titan. The plot has not changed, but the manuscript has been substantially polished and tweaked, as well as retitled.

Dedication: For Zara, Daniel, and Thomas

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Martian Student Exchange Programme

Chapter 2: A Deadly Attack

Chapter 3: A Message from Titan

Chapter 4: The Secret Base

Chapter 5: The Outward Voyage

Chapter 6: Arrival at Titan

Chapter 7: The Rescue

Chapter 8: The Parallel Titan

Chapter 9: The Scavenger Nest

Chapter 10: The Black City

Chapter 11: Zargok

Chapter 12: The Escape Plan

Chapter 13: The Pursuit

Chapter 14: Fire and Wings

Chapter 15: Alter-egos

Chapter 16: Will Stock and the Time Travelling Assassin

Chapter 17: Through the Portal

Chapter 18: The Seventh Floor and Other Matters

Chapter 19: The Return of General Grykur

Chapter 20: Diversion and Infiltration

Chapter 21: Faith and Contingency Plans

Chapter 22: Aftermath

Epilogue: Old Enemies with New Allies

Bonus Material

Chapter 1 of The Neptune Conspiracy

Chapter 2 of The Neptune Conspiracy

Chapter 3 of The Neptune Conspiracy

Chapter 1: The Martian Student Exchange Programme

George sat in class daydreaming. Since he’d already studied quantum theory at length, he stared out at the July sunshine, letting his mind drift to the imminent summer holidays.

‘Are you listening, George?’

Reluctantly coming out of his thoughts, George turned his attention to his physics teacher, Mrs Gunter.

‘Yes.’

‘Then perhaps you can enlighten the rest of us on Alan Guth’s parallel universe theory.’

‘He doesn’t really call them parallel universes. Generally, they’re referred to as inflationary universes, or the inflationary theory of cosmology.’

Mrs Gunter sighed. ‘This is not a university course. Please use terms the rest of the class will be familiar with.’

‘But it’s important in order to understand the theory. Guth reckoned when our universe began, instead of gravity keeping everything in place, reverse gravity pushed everything out; something he called a false vacuum. Scientists have all but proved the universe is constantly expanding, so this theory makes sense. Anyway, the false vacuum created loads of extra particles. These particles are the same as those that began our universe, and if the universe is as large as people think, the extra particles became bubbles like the bubble which began our universe. The more the false vacuum expanded the more bubbles were created, which basically means, if the theory is true, there are an infinite number of parallel realities with the same laws of physics as our reality.’

The rest of the class fixed George with a baffled stare.

‘Excellent summary, if somewhat advanced for this class,’ said Mrs Gunter, who looked as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. ‘But George, try to at least look like you’re concentrating on the lesson.’

‘It helps if you think of the particles of our universe as a pack of cards,’ George continued. ‘They can be shuffled different ways, and every variation is a possibility. Our reality is just one of those possible shufflings…’

Awareness that he was showing off dawned on Geroge. He didn’t mean to do this, but after years of being bullied for being too brainy whilst growing up in the now-abolished Debt Control Tax scheme, he finally felt liberated, as his talents were generally appreciated. However, his intelligence still occasionally generated resentment from students and even teachers when his knowledge exceeded theirs.

‘I’ll shut up now,’ said George.

So much had changed in the past year that it still made George’s head spin thinking about it. He had discovered Mars was inhabited by an alien race who had survived beneath the surface for centuries. Shortly afterwards, the human presence on Mars almost triggered an interplanetary war. Once disaster had been averted, and Martian dictator General Grykur had been replaced by more benevolent Martian leadership, George and his adoptive parents, Albert and Gertrude (who now ran the Mars Trust), agreed that the planet was no longer theirs to sell.

Despite the peace between the two planets, widespread mistrust of Martians was commonplace. The link terminals proved a particular cause for paranoia and conspiracy theories, as they had not yet been switched off. These terminals were the means by which the Earth had been invaded previously.

To try and counteract such negativity, the governments of Earth and Mars created an exchange programme for secondary school children whereby children from both planets were encouraged to correspond. Some were even allowed to visit each other to learn more about their respective cultures. George’s school participated in this exchange programme.

The Martian children, a couple of whom were in Mrs Gunter’s class, were shy, but also polite and respectful. George hadn’t yet had the opportunity to get to know any of them. Although humanoid in appearance, the Martians stood out due to their lack of hair and oval heads, as well as long, pointed ears that constantly moved. Their pale green skin and piercing yellow eyes took some getting used to. On Earth, they wore human clothing to try and blend in more, yet George found it easier not to stare when he was on Mars, seeing them in their natural environment.

After the lesson finished, George headed along the corridor to his next lesson. As he passed the changing rooms, he heard muffled cries from within. Yells alternated with laughter.

George entered to find Jarith, one of the Martian boys about his age, along with Curt Long and Ed Stock, two boys from the year above him. Curt held Jarith in a headlock, whilst Ed punched him in the stomach.

‘Greenskin scum,’ said Ed. ‘Reckon you can come here like everything’s alright, after what your lot did?’

‘Why do bullies always come in pairs like you two?’ said George. ‘One short and wide,’ he indicated Carl, another tall and thin.

Ed glared at George. ‘Look, Carl. The boy who lost a planet. Unlike you, our family laid claim to a world we’ll actually be able to keep.’

‘It’s a shame your father’s claim on Titan hasn’t improved your manners, Ed,’ said George. ‘With all that money in your family, you could afford some courtesy.’

George sized up Curt and Ed. Although he’d filled out somewhat since his adventures on Mars, and was now fourteen, the bullying pair were bigger still, and taking them on would be difficult. Nevertheless, George determined he would come to Jarith’s aid.

‘Let him go,’ said George.

Carl scoffed. ‘Come and get him, Greenskin lover.’

‘You’re seriously defending this Martian murderer?’ said Ed. ‘Have you heard what they’re doing? Are you really that ignorant? They’re building an army. They’ve got new weapons the likes of which we can’t imagine. And they can teleport quicker than ever. If we don’t take a stand now, it’ll be too late.’

‘Is that what you’re doing?’ said George. ‘Taking a stand? Do you really think picking on Jarith is defending the Earth from invasion? Let him go, now.’

Ed scowled. ‘Gonna make us?’

‘I’ll try. I’m not afraid of you, Ed.’

Although true, George knew he could well end up losing a fight with Ed, especially with Curt there to back him up. But after everything he’d been through, George was no longer scared of school bullies. Besides, perhaps Jarith would find his courage, and between them, they would be able to make a stand.

‘You’re mincemeat!’ cried Curt. He rushed at George, throwing a clumsy punch. But George managed to duck. Curt’s fist smashed into the wall, making an imprint in the plaster.

Jarith was free, but he stood to one side, leaving George exposed to a punch from Ed. George’s head recoiled and he felt stunned by the blow. Water rushed to his eyes, and he could taste blood. It appeared he could expect no help from Jarith. The Martian tried to run but was blocked by Curt.

‘You’re not going anywhere, space invader,’ Curt hissed. ‘Not until I’ve explained to you what I think of your kind.’

Curt delivered a punch that sent Jarith flying to the floor. Ed punched George again, and for a moment it seemed the bullies had the upper hand. But George remembered he’d survived crash landings, executions, killer robots, and multiple assassination attempts. He wasn’t going to let Ed Stock get the better of him.

George recalled the self-defence training he’d acquired from his secret agent friend Giles. George hadn’t seen Giles since his mysterious disappearance following General Grykur’s defeat, but he remained grateful for the invaluable instruction in kickboxing.

With a deft spin and lunge, George kicked Ed in the jaw, sending him flying across the room. He smashed into some lockers, hit his head, and collapsed on the ground unconscious. In a rapid movement, George turned to Curt. He tried to attack, but George dodged every punch. He could practically hear the voice of Giles in his head, as he weaved around the room, ducking and defending, until the opportunity arose for a body kick that sent Curt hurtling to the ground. Curt moaned and clutched at his sides. He wasn’t getting up any time soon.

George turned to Jarith and helped him up. But before he could say anything, Mr Richards, a somewhat overweight Sociology teacher, came bounding into the room.

‘George Hughes! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

George opened his mouth to explain, but as he looked again at the unconscious Ed and the groaning Curt, he wondered if he might have taken things a bridge too far.

George sat outside the headmaster’s office waiting to be summoned. Aware he was probably in a fair bit of trouble, he remained unrepentant. Under normal circumstances, a boy his age and size would have lost the fight, but he had overcome two bullies, both of whom were bigger than him. He would probably be punished, but at least he’d stood up for Jarith.

The door to the headmaster’s office opened. His secretary, Miss Mendes, who wore only black and never smiled, addressed George in gloomy tones. She reminded him of the Grim Reaper.

‘Mr Gulliver will see you now.’

George got up and entered Mr Gulliver’s office. The headmaster of New Sunderland High was generally regarded as an even-tempered man, but he took a dim view of those who used violence on the premises. If caught, perpetrators faced suspension or expulsion, regardless of whether they were defending themselves. George hoped the fact that he defended a Martian would provide the extenuating circumstances he needed to defend his actions.

Mr Gulliver indicated for George to sit on the orange plastic seat in front of his glass desk. His office was almost paperless, with virtual computer screens hovering next to three-dimensional family photographs. Classic Van Gogh and Turner landscapes were being projected onto the walls, and the view from the high window looked far out across New Sunderland to the edges of the blue skies, where the unremitting dark clouds hovered over former DCT Districts. The damage caused by atomic warfare and atmospheric disrupters in World War IV was still very much in evidence over that part of England.

‘Well George,’ said Mr Gulliver. ‘You present me with a serious problem. On the one hand, I understand you came to the defence of Jarith, which is admirable. I will not tolerate racial prejudice in this school, even if the race concerned is from another planet.’

George felt somewhat relieved. The headmaster was pleased he had stuck up for the Martian student. Perhaps he would be off the hook.

‘However, there is no way I can possibly justify your actions. They were not a proportional response.’

‘Curt and Ed attacked Jarith,’ said George. ‘They were holding him down and punching him. What was I supposed to do? Let them get on with it?’

‘You should have informed a teacher.’

George scoffed. ‘Yeah, that’s really worked in the past. I got bullied at my last school, and telling the teachers did nothing. I learned very quickly that I had to stand on my own two feet.’

‘That isn’t how it works here,’ said Mr Gulliver. ‘At New Sunderland High, we listen to our students and help solve their problems.’

‘And how does that prepare them for the real world? How does it help them fight their own battles?’

‘I am not going to change school policy just because it doesn’t suit your philosophy. I admire your courage, and it must be said the odds were not in your favour, but Curt has a minor concussion as a result of your actions. Needless to say, neither family is impressed. Ed’s father, Harold Stock, has demanded your expulsion.’

‘Has he been told that Ed was beating a defenceless victim?’

Mr Gulliver sighed. ‘Yes, but Harold Stock has little sympathy for Martians.’

‘I’ve heard you say we have to defend those who can’t defend themselves. You said we should stand up to bullies.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t say we should knock them unconscious.’

George shrugged. ‘They got what they deserved. I didn’t mean to concuss anyone, but they were attacking Jarith. I came to his defence, and they attacked me, so I defended myself as best I could. If they didn’t want to get hurt, they shouldn’t have started a fight.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you think. I have the school’s reputation to think of, and Harold Stock is a very influential man.’

‘So are my parents, but that shouldn’t make a difference.’

Mr Gulliver looked confused. ‘I thought your parents died years ago.’

‘I mean my adoptive parents, obviously. Albert and Gertrude Green. They run the Mars Trust.’

‘Ah, well the Mars Trust doesn’t have the clout it used to. At least, not since you relinquished your claims on Mars.’

‘So, although we’re rich, Harold Stock is richer, and you have to suck up to Ed’s parents rather than mine. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘George, be fair. Harold Stock is an enormously powerful man. He has friends in practically every government and business on Earth. What’s more, he’s about to start selling land on Titan. The Mars Trust, by contrast, has spent much on charitable schemes that have done a great deal of good in this post-DCT political landscape. Yet you know as well as I do that much of the Trust’s wealth and influence is diminished. Albert Green and the Mars Trust would not be able to defend us from the wrath of Harold Stock, should we defy his wishes.’

‘So, I’m being expelled?’

‘Almost certainly, yes. The board has yet to rule, but for the time being, you are suspended pending their decision.’

George didn’t feel so much sorry for himself as disgusted at what he saw as Mr Gulliver’s moral cowardice.

‘I’m sorry, George. I can write a strong personal recommendation to help you get into your next school, but my hands are tied on this matter.’

‘This is crazy. I haven’t been in trouble here before, and my grades are all good.’

‘I agree. You’re one of our brightest students. But as I’ve explained, the very real problem lies with…’

A red light flashed on Mr Gulliver’s desk. ‘I’m sorry, I have an urgent call.’

Mr Gulliver pressed a button on the desk and began to talk. Because he didn’t use a receiver, George realised his headmaster must have had the earpiece and microphone surgically implanted.

‘Abel Gulliver speaking.’

Mr Gulliver sat in silence with an expression of rapidly escalating disbelief. Intrigued, George watched the headmaster’s face, curious at the pronouncements muttered between long periods of silence.

‘I’m sorry, who are you?’

‘Which department?’

‘Well… Of course, I will cooperate fully… About half an hour? Very well.’

Mr Gulliver pressed a switch on his desk to end the call, staring at George with a mixture of bewilderment and fascination.

‘It seems any decision taken by the board regarding your future here will have to wait. You have friends in high places George. I’ve just been contacted by a government official who has asked for your immediate assistance in an extremely urgent matter.’

Now it was George’s turn to look confused.

‘It’s true,’ Mr Gulliver continued. ‘This man transmitted his credentials and… Well, it would appear he is very close to the Prime Minister. He has already spoken to the Mars Trust, including Albert and Gertrude Green, and they have all agreed to offer their assistance as well.’

‘Who is this government official?’ George asked.

‘He said his name was Giles.’

Chapter 2: A Deadly Attack

George stood at the side of the road outside the gates of New Sunderland High School. Compared with the other tall buildings in the area, the school was a mere seven stories in height, though more modern, and it even featured a very recent architectural innovation: wings that could literally fold up as needed. One part of the school when folded made room for a large football pitch during PE lessons. A triumph of mechanical engineering.

Great skyscrapers loomed in all directions, their windows reflecting the glare of the noon sun. New Sunderland had been built on a steep hillside commanding a view of the sea to the east and the scarred country with its thick black clouds to the west. The roads were busier than they had been a year previously, as new housing projects built on the outskirts of the city had replaced DCT Districts.

George liked his school and didn’t want to be expelled, but his thoughts turned to why Giles had returned. Despite investigations, there had been no trace of him or the government agency he had worked for. Why come back now? What did he want? George had been good friends with Giles, but despite their friendship, the agent hadn’t ever fully taken him into his confidence.

He waited for Giles to pick him up. Normally the Mars Trust would have sent their own car, but Giles had insisted upon escorting him to their premises himself, apparently for security reasons. George knew from experience if Giles had reason to suspect danger it wasn’t merely paranoia. A new threat existed. But who could possibly be after George and why? In the past, there had been attempts on his life due to the Trust’s claim on Mars, but since they had relinquished that claim, he was no longer a target for murderous opportunists. General Grykur and his followers no longer posed any threat, as they were all languishing in a Martian prison. What new enemy had emerged to challenge him?

Oddly, George didn’t feel particularly bothered by any of this. Some of his previous adventures had been so dangerous he was astounded he was still alive. Although he had experienced a relatively peaceful year since the defeat of Grykur, he had often wondered whether other dangers would find him. Now it seemed they had. It also occurred to George that if he was being threatened, it was a good excuse to have Giles back in his life. He missed the mysterious secret agent more than he cared to admit.

A large, black, water-powered Mercedes pulled up outside the school. The driver’s door opened, and Giles stepped out, dressed immaculately in a black suit and tie. He looked the same as ever; tall, dark-haired, well-built. His intimidating presence was immediately softened by the kind recognition in his eyes.

‘George,’ said Giles.

‘Where have you been?’ said George. ‘You practically disappeared into thin air.’

Giles shrugged. ‘Unavoidable.’ He glanced left and right. ‘Need to get out here now.’

‘Nice to see you too.’

George sat in the front seat.

‘Back seat would be safer,’ said Giles.

‘You’re not my chauffeur, you’re my friend,’ said George.

Giles shrugged and returned to the driver’s seat. They drove away and were soon passing through the roads of New Sunderland, heading towards the offices of the Mars Trust.

‘What’s the big emergency?’ George asked.

‘Best if you see it,’ said Giles.

‘How serious is it?’

‘Very.’

‘How very? My-life-is-in-danger very, or end-of-the-world very?’

‘Both.’

George could see Giles wasn’t joking. But he wasn’t going to just let him re-enter his life this way, not without some proper explanation about where he had been.

‘Giles, you have to tell me where you’ve been all this time.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Can’t you at least say who you’re working for?’

Giles sighed. ‘A benevolent interested party.’

‘Come on, Giles. It’s me! You never used to be this uptight.’

Giles forced a smile. ‘Nice to see you too George.’

‘But you wish the circumstances of our reunion were different.’

Giles shrugged. ‘Unlikely we’d have been reunited at all if the circumstances were different.’

‘Then I’m happy to face the danger, whatever it is. What did Mum and Dad think about your sudden reappearance?’

‘Albert was surprised. But he trusts me.’

‘And Mum?’

‘Not so keen. Think that’s because of everything that happened last time.’

‘What about the Trust? How did you persuade them to help you?’

‘Less you know at this point, the better.’

‘Ah yes. The usual could-tell-you-but-then-I’d-have-to-kill-you routine.’

‘Answers soon, George. Will tell you everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Everything.’

There wasn’t an issue of trust. George knew Giles was out to protect his best interests, unlike his former guardian Mr Stains, who after the disgrace of his conduct during the Martian invasion had been lucky to avoid prosecution.

They left the centre of New Sunderland and approached the outskirts. The Mars Trust offices were discreetly situated near an industrial estate, but to get there quicker, Giles drove through an area under development. Ahead were two tall skyscrapers under construction, with the framework of steel girders in place for both.

‘We’re being followed,’ said Giles.

George peered out the back window and saw a white BMW keeping a discreet distance, but nevertheless mirroring their movements.

‘Can we lose them?’

‘I’ll try.’

Giles hit the accelerator. George looked back and saw the white BMW also speed up. The road through the area being developed was less busy than the roads at the centre of the city, but although there were fewer cars, larger obstacles lay in their path, including diggers, dumper trucks, and other construction vehicles.

The Mercedes weaved around the traffic, and George once again felt impressed at Giles’s considerable skill. He drove the vehicle like an experienced racing car driver. Although they were travelling at dangerous speeds, George couldn’t deny a certain sense of exhilaration.

Behind them the BMW kept pace, swerving to avoid other cars. Several drivers honked their horns and occasionally pedestrians dived out of the way, swearing as they lurched onto the pavement.

‘He’s getting closer,’ said George.

Giles slowed to avoid a lorry turning into the road. He swerved around its side and the BMW did the same.

A long-haired, bearded, leather-clad man emerged from the passenger seat window of the BMW and fired a handgun at the Mercedes. George ducked, but the bullets ricocheted off the windows without any significant damage.

‘Bulletproof,’ said Giles.

Feeling as though he were in one of the old James Bond films, George glanced back and saw the long-haired leather-clad man reaching into the BMW. Seconds later, he wielded a much bigger gun. Giles stared in his rear-view mirror and frowned.

‘Now we’re in trouble. Stay down!’

George crouched as low as he could. A loud gunshot followed by an ear-shattering blast smashed the back windscreen into fragments.

‘What was that?’ said George.

‘BPGPB,’ said Giles. ‘Bulletproof glass penetrating bullets.’

George didn’t like how fast and well-equipped their pursuers were turning out to be. ‘Who on earth is chasing us?’

‘Don’t know who’s driving, but that’s Metal Matt doing the shooting.’

‘Metal Matt? Why do these hired killers always choose such ridiculous names?’

‘Never thought to ask.’

George got out his phone and tried to call Albert and Gertrude but couldn’t get a signal.

‘The phone’s dead.’

Giles reached into his jacket pocket and glanced at his own phone. ‘Signal’s being jammed, probably by Metal Matt.’

Another gunshot rang out. The car lurched. They had lost one of the back wheels.

Giles spun the steering wheel and the vehicle skidded across the road. George peeked up just in time to see the car slam into the side of a van.

‘Stay here,’ said Giles, as the Mercedes came to a standstill.

George remained low in his seat, as Giles grabbed a handgun from inside his coat and opened the door. He began to fire, and from the rear-view mirror, George saw bullets hit the driver of the BMW. The car spun and overturned, smashing into the shovel of a large excavator next to the building site.

Giles ran back to the Mercedes and opened the passenger door. ‘Get out, quick!’

George got out and ran with Giles onto the building site. Glancing back, George glimpsed Metal Matt crawling out of the overturned BMW. He no longer carried the larger weapon, but he had a gun in each hand. George had no idea how they could escape, but trusted Giles to come up with a plan.

Several rounds of gunfire pierced the air. George was scared, but because the experience was familiar, and because Giles was with him, being shot at didn’t terrify him as much as it would have done a year ago.

George and Giles took cover behind a large pallet of concrete breezeblocks. Giles reloaded his gun and returned fire. Peeking around the corner, George noted their enemy had ducked behind a mound of earth. Other possible hiding places were dotted around the building site, and George wondered if they could escape ducking and diving behind the various areas that provided cover. If they remained where they were, Metal Matt would gradually move in closer and eliminate them.

‘I suppose it would be far too simple to call the police,’ said George.

Giles shook his head. ‘Don’t want them involved.’

George rolled his eyes. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ He scanned the building site and noticed the steel girders of the building under construction. ‘How do we get out of this one?’

‘Shoot Metal Matt,’ said Giles. He thrust a gun into George’s hand. ‘I’m going to get behind him. Cover me.’

‘Wait! I don’t know how to use this.’

‘It’s easy. Hold at arm’s length. Point and shoot. Fire a few rounds at Metal Matt’s position when I break cover. Keep doing that for about five seconds. By then I’ll have reached those oil drums near that mound, and I’ll take it from there.’

George gave an uncertain nod, watching whilst Giles made a run for the oil drums he had indicated. Not wanting to let Giles down, George opened fire at Metal Matt. The assassin fired back. George kept firing until he could see that Giles had reached the drums. He then dived back behind the breezeblocks.

What struck George most about firing a gun was the volume. No wonder people wore earplugs at gun ranges. Even in the open, the sound seemed deafening. Giles said he didn’t want to attract police, but George thought their intervention was now inevitable. Despite the building site being deserted, vehicles on the road had stopped and were looking at the dead driver in the overturned BMW, as well as the smashed Mercedes. One of them was bound to call the authorities.

George continued to peek out at Giles, as he snuck around to where Metal Matt lurked. For a moment it seemed everything was going to plan and that the secret agent would succeed.

Another gunshot rang out. A muffled cry rang out across the building site, and George noticed in horror that Giles had been hit. He clutched at his shoulder, crawling back to the cover of the oil barrels.

Seizing his chance, Metal Matt stood and aimed at Giles. It seemed unlikely that he would miss. George aimed at Metal Matt, and before he could think about it too much, took a shot.

The bullet went wide, but Metal Matt once again returned his attention to George’s hiding place. George fired again, but afterwards, his gun went click. Out of bullets.

A dark smile formed on the face of the assassin, and he strode from the mound towards the breezeblocks, ignoring Giles altogether. With the secret agent neutralised, Metal Matt focussed on his primary target.

George cowered behind the pallet. He hadn’t felt this frightened since the Dark Horse incident on the return journey from Mars. Giles had been wounded on that occasion too, but others aboard the spacecraft had helped him. This time, he was completely alone. He had no ammunition, and an armed assassin was about to eliminate him. What were his options?

Run and probably be killed.

Remain and definitely be killed.

Choosing the former course of action, George broke cover and fled towards the towering iron girders. Gunshots rang out behind him, along with rapid footsteps and a harsh grunting. Occasionally George ducked, but mainly he ran. His heart pounded, and a pale sweat broke across his forehead.

A few feet ahead, George noticed an industrial blowing machine designed to clear dust from large structures. It looked like a large black rectangle with a huge grey circular tube about ten feet in diameter attached to the front end. Ducking behind the machine, George took a rapid