Magnus Blackmore sat behind his desk at the Pythagoras Academy and looked out at all of the little faces staring up at him. He had been in this job - as a maths teacher - for almost a year and no matter how he tried, he could never really get the children to get too excited about mathematics.
And their lack of enthusiasm had an affect on him.
He had always been keen on Maths from an early age, but after he had taken it up as a career, it had started to bore him going over the same things over and over again. He wanted a more exciting life and maths just wasn’t that exciting.
He was about to set the class another task to perform when the school bell rang and the children burst into life, clamouring for their bags and putting their learning pads into their rucksacks. It was the end of the days lessons and they were all eager to get out.
“No running, thank you,” said Blackmore, knowing full well that nobody could hear him.
He sighed and slumped back into his chair. He waited until the last of the children had left the classroom and then went over to close the door.
He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the silence, his forehead resting on the glass in the door. Bliss.
He was snapped out of his daydreaming when the communications console started beeping. He quickly crossed to the far side of his desk and pressed a button on the monitor.
A face appeared and Blackmore felt the colour drain from his face.
It was a face he knew well. An old-ish man with long, grey hair tied behind his back, dressed in a black suit with a white tie. He had a grey goa-tee beard and his eyes were dark and sunken in.
“Good afternoon, Magnus,” said the man, his voice cheery but with dangerous undertones.
“Good afternoon, General,” said Blackmore, sitting back down in his chair, all the time keeping his eyes transfixed on the mans face.
“It’s been a long time,” he purred. “Too long. I see you have yourself a new job.”
“Teaching at the academy, sir,” said Blackmore with a little smile. “It pays the bills.”
“And it’s exactly where we want you,” smiled the man. “We have another little job for you.”
Magnus wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He’d done these little jobs before and they always paid well, but they were questionable to say the least.
“A job?”
“Yes. The Eyeglass has been keeping a close eye on you since that job on Neptune.”
“That was a few years ago now,” said Magnus, laughing nervously.
“And we’ve been watching you all that time,” smiled the man who Blackmore had called the General.
“How much?”
The General smiled. “Nothing.”
“Well then -”
“Nothing but admission into the Eyeglass itself.”
Magnus stopped mid-sentence. He had always been fascinated by the Eyeglass as a boy and when he had been approached to work for them as a freelance seven years ago, it had been almost a dream come true. Again, many of the jobs were questionable, but it was something he had always wanted to do. A boyhood dream.
“The pay would be continual. You’d work undercover for us. And you’d be protected,” he added at the end.
“Of course, it’d be an honour. The work that Eyeglass do-”
“- is to benefit the Human race,” said the General, finishing Blackmore’s sentence for him.
Blackmore stroked his chin and smiled. “I’d have to leave this job, yes?”
“Yes. Well, eventually.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your Academy are planning to join up with colony fleet Apax next month.”
“Yes,” said Blackmore, remembering the selection of teachers who had signed up to go. He had declined, instead deciding to remain with the rest of the Academy back on Earth. “The Headmaster - Tinton - is going as well. We’ve got a handful of families signed up and ready. There’s a few good teachers going. We’ll miss them.”
“You’re going to join them as well. As Mathematician.”
“I can’t,” laughed Blackmore. “Graham Svendsen’s already on the list. He’s head of Maths.”
“He’s not on the list anymore,” said the General calmly. “He’s come down with an unfortunate bout of Attasian flu.”
Blackmore frowned. Attasian flue was only found on the outer reaches of the solar system. “But, sir-?”
“Don’t ask questions,” said the General calmly. “You’ll put yourself forward to join the Apax fleet and then we’ll be in contact as soon as you’ve boarded.”
“It’ll take three and a half years to get to Apax, though. I don’t fancy hanging around for that long.”
“You won’t be there for three and a half years,” said the General. “Remember, we’ll be in contact. The Eyeglass are watching. Always.”
The screen faded to black as the General cut transmissions. He sat there for a moment, his fingers interlocked on his chest. He had no intention of leaving Earth and his job here, but this was the Eyeglass. The biggest and most intelligent network of undercover ops in the galaxy. He couldn’t turn this one down. It was his childhood dream!
Two Months Later
Blackmore had been on the Pythagoras for almost a month and he still hadn’t received any contact from the Eyeglass.
And he was getting bored.
He had always been interested in space travel, but had never wanted to be stuck on a colony fleet. It depressed him. He wanted to see worlds and visit planets. Ever since the Neptune job where he had stolen detailed scientific records on a particular weapon for the Eyeglass.
Some would call their actions criminal, but he truly believed that it was all being done for the good of the Human race, despite how dodgy some of their dealings were.
He crossed over to the small window in his incredibly small quarters and looked out. Nothing but a blanket of stars glittering on what looked like black satin. All around there were ships of all shapes and sizes dotted about. Cargo ships carrying all the materials they needed for colonisation, fuel ships and hundreds and hundreds of ships full of families and ministers and other important people.
And it was very rare that he had any contact with those people, however. Occasionally they would speak over the communications network to each other, but to save on energy and fuel most of the ships would only communicate in emergencies, and anyone found to be in danger would most likely be left behind. It was cruel, but it was space travel. The one important thing was to get the fleet to Apax.
In the month he had spent on the ship he had gotten to know the rest of the team. There was the art teacher, William Reynolds, Hideo Sanada - science, Annie Phipps - English language and literature and himself. Their headmaster, Arthur Tointon, would also teach alien cultures once a week.
They were a decent bunch - he had barely spoken to them at the Academy back on Earth - but none of them seemed to be on the same wavelength as him. They were happy to keep quiet, teach their lessons and wait to arrive on Apax.
There was a knock on the door and Reynolds stepped in, his grey hair swept back, but his fringe always threatening to flop forward over his face.
“Hey, Will,” said Blackmore, turning from the window.
“How are you?” asked Reynolds. “You’ve been keeping yourself to yourself since you got here.”
“I’m just eager to get to Apax,” said Blackmore. He was lying, of course.
“Well you’ve got a long wait,” chuckled Reynolds. “Three and a half years, my boy.”
Blackmore smiled. “I’d just prefer to keep myself to myself.”
“Suit yourself,” said Reynolds, arching his eyebrows. “But space is very lonely. Don‘t lock yourself away in here.”
He turned and walked out of the door.
“Dinner is served in thirty minutes,” came his voice as he disappeared down the corridor.
Blackmore sighed and sat on the end of his bed. Had the Eyeglass forgotten about him? Surely not. The General had told him he’d be in touch. He was about to lie down and get a bit of sleep when their came another knock at the door.
“Come in,” he sighed.
The door opened and Annie Phipps walked in. At the site of her, Blackmore wanted to groan. She was a very pretty woman, but she was so bloody nervous all the time. She was too timid and didn’t seem to be able to make decisions for herself.
But right now, standing in the doorway, she looked different. She looked confident, and her mouth was curled into a slight smile.
“What can I do for you, Annie?” asked Blackmore.
“Never mind what you can do for me. The real question is: what you can do for the General?”
He voice was even different. No nervousness, no worry and apprehension. Now she sounded confident, edgier and slightly dangerous.
“You work for the Eyeglass?” asked Blackmore, not quite believing what she had just said.
“Have done for a good few years now,” she smiled, slinking into the room and closing the door. “Since I left school actually.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” asked Blackmore, getting up off the bed. “I’ve been here for a whole month. Never mind the amount of time at the Academy. You could have said something!”
“Undercover, sweetheart,” smiled Annie. “Undercover.”
Blackmore swallowed. “So what does the General want?”
“He wants you to crash the ship,” smiled Annie, a twinkle in her eyes.
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