A big shadow like an arrowhead began to take shape in the swirling dust.
‘That’s a plane,’ said Kelly. ‘A very big plane. And we’re on the end of its runway.’
Ben turned the ignition key. The engine coughed and spluttered but wouldn’t turn over.
Kelly waved her paw at him. ‘There must be dust in the filter. Quick, get out!’
Ben snapped the door catch up and jumped out of the microlight. He ran round to Kelly’s side, noticing as he did so that the plane was looming bigger in the sky, its engine noise deafening. He released the catch on her door and she tumbled out and started running. They sprinted along the fence, away from the approaching monster.
The light was under the plane’s belly. It illuminated a vast grey fuselage and a big row of wheels. The back wheels touched down and Ben felt the impact reverberate through his bones. The nose came down, obscuring the light on the belly of the craft. A wave of sand blasted towards him and Kelly. They shrank back against the fence, shielding their eyes with their hands. The engines screamed in their ears as the pilot put the brakes on.
The engine whine diminished. When they opened their eyes, the plane had slowed right down to a sedate taxiing speed. The clouds of dust were settling around it.
The plane came towards them and then turned. Ben and Kelly gasped.
It was massive — almost as long as a football field and as high as a six-storey building; big and grey with a rounded nose. The wheeled undercarriage alone was huge — a mass of wheels and struts.
Kelly was transfixed by the plane. ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken,’ she said, ‘that is a Galaxy Starlifter. It can take off and land on a dime. It doesn’t need a runway or air traffic control because it’s got all the weather radar on board. It can fit six entire Greyhound buses in its hold.’ She was back in teacher mode.
‘Delivering buses by plane?’ said Ben. ‘Isn’t that like buying a dog and barking yourself?’
‘I thought you’d be impressed. That’s one of the world’s largest aircraft. It travels as fast as a jet plane. Don’t boys like things like that?’
Ben was definitely impressed — it was just more fun not to show it.
The plane was heading for the open doors of a giant hangar. At the front end, the nose sprang open and folded back over the cockpit. It looked like someone had cut the nose off a shark and hinged it upwards. The dust settled a little more, enough for them to see there was lettering on the plane’s taiclass="underline" USAF — United States Air Force. Then the doors closed. All that remained of the plane was the red dust blowing over its massive wheel-ruts.
‘There’s your real big bird that disappears,’ mused Ben.
Kelly stood up straight. ‘We’re on home turf,’ she said. ‘These guys are Americans. I think we’d better go and say hello.’
‘It’s your home turf,’ grumbled Ben as he set off behind her. ‘You Americans — you think you own the world.’
In the distance, a figure was standing outside one of the huts. He wore a military-looking uniform of faded blue. He seemed to be on a smoking break. He threw a cigarette butt down onto the ground and stubbed it out with his foot. Then he opened the door and went back inside.
Kelly looked around. The microlight was close to the perimeter fence, in the shadow of the gigantic dome. ‘I think we can leave our little buzzmobile here. It’s not in anybody’s way. Come on.’ She pushed her headset down around her neck like a torque and set off in the direction of the door, bandaged hands swinging purposefully. She looked a peculiar figure: her flying suit grimy with desert dust, open to the navel to reveal her orange T-shirt, headset discarded around her neck, bandaged hands like two white mittens. Ben looked down at his own flying suit. It was none too clean either. He tried to brush the worst of it off as he walked. Somehow he thought it might not make a good impression to look as if he’d just climbed out of a dumper truck.
It took them a good five minutes just to walk past the dome. It was massive: at least 80 feet tall — only half as tall as the Millennium Dome, but then that wasn’t out in the middle of the Australian desert. The surface was covered in a thick white plastic material. It looked like a set for a Star Wars movie.
Ben’s mind was working furiously as he walked along beside Kelly. An American base in the middle of the Australian desert? He felt in his pocket and pulled out the flyer from Oz Protectors:
Not far from Adelaide, in the Great Victoria Desert, the Americans built a listening station. Ever since, the people of Coober Pedy have been stricken by a number of strange sicknesses.
‘Kelly,’ said Ben, showing her the leaflet, ‘do you remember this? This is the place they’re talking about.’
‘Probably.’ Kelly nodded.
‘It’s the place that’s been making everyone sick in Coober Pedy.’
‘Oh, that’s just anti-American propaganda.’
Ben shrugged. It probably was, but as he tucked the flyer back into his pocket he had a moment of déjà vu: putting the flyer in that same pocket while the café owner in Coober Pedy said, I had this terrible itching. I thought my skin was crawling with insects …
They reached the door where they had seen the figure in the blue uniform. Kelly stood aside for Ben to open it.
He still had misgivings. ‘Should we really be here?’
Kelly glared at him. ‘Why not?’
He looked at that curled lip and the interrogating eyes and couldn’t quite think how to begin.
She didn’t give him long to explain. ‘Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat. I’ve been on these bases before. My dad’s in the army, remember? It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go in.’
Inside was a dark corridor and an open door into a lighted room. Kelly led the way.
The room was some kind of laboratory. Ben was reminded of pictures he’d seen of mission control in Houston during the Moon landings. Except that the whole place seemed to be manned by just two people. They were surrounded by so much electronic equipment that it took him a few seconds to spot them. Each man had three computer monitors. Along the walls were metal racks holding more banks of equipment covered with flashing lights. Some of the equipment had a home-made look. The knobs and lights were different sizes, as if they had been fitted at different times. The numbers and lettering on the labels didn’t match. It looked like a prototype machine that someone was constantly building and refining; like something out of Ben’s dad’s workshop in the back garden. Except that everything here was emblazoned with the insignia of the US army.
Both scientists wore the muted blue uniform. They seemed wrapped up in their work and didn’t take much notice of the newcomers. Ben’s dad was like that when he was concentrating.
‘The frequency’s stabilized,’ said one of the men. A label on his shirt said his name was Grishkevich. He was looking at one of the screens. On it was a satellite picture like the ones on weather programmes. Grishkevich pressed a cursor key. The map view moved down a few centimetres. He looked at it carefully and then at another map picture on another screen, comparing them.
The other scientist, whose name tag said Hijkoop, looked over his shoulder at his screens.
‘It doesn’t seem to have made any difference,’ said Grishkevich. ‘The wind’s died down to five knots but it could kick up again any minute.’
‘Hi,’ said Kelly.
Grishkevich continued to ignore her but Hijkoop looked up. ‘Ah, you got here at last. Are you guys new? I haven’t seen you before.’
Grishkevich spoke too, but he kept his eyes glued to the screen. ‘Sorry — you must have had a rough ride on the way in. We’re having a lot of trouble with it today.’ He continued to move the picture with his cursor.