All The Pieces 2

By Philip Berry

Volumes 6-8: The continuing adventures of Tamsin Taylor. Born into the role of Piece Finder and pitted unwittingly against the global network of Stone Splitters, Tamsin is aided by her occasionally useful brother Jake, and the ingenious pick pocket Tomas. She does battle over the newly discovered element Hyperiontium, an alien substance that has shaped the societies in which we live.

Tamsin is imprisoned, transported, brought face-to-face with her own granddaughter, and sentenced to beheading. In the final volume, with the royal family duped and on the verge of destruction, she must use every skill and trick at her disposal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Berry
• Release date: Oct 5, 2019

Book preview

Prologue

France, 2041

The two Stone Splitters picked their way across a field strewn with sharp rocks and peppered with treacherous holes. Behind them stood three structures, each part of a nuclear reactor. There was a pale dome (where the energy was released from fuel rods) and two square buildings (where engineers worked to control the energy levels and prevent any accidents).

The Splitters hurried now. It was growing dark, and with each passing minute it became more difficult to find their way. They had achieved the first part of their mission – to place the last Piece on Earth into the heart of the reactor, where it would be completely destroyed. The last trace of alien material. Once destroyed, there would be no more trouble. That was their task.

They had disguised themselves as engineers, used their fake passes to gain access to the square building on the right, and during a planned fuel rod replacement they had made their way into the dome through an underground tunnel and planted what looked like a medium sized, grey stone in the reactor. When the reactor was turned on again the last Piece would go up in smoke! The Splitters would have won the long, hard-fought battle to rid the world of this strange, impossibly powerful substance.

The only other Piece known to have caused trouble in recent times was the Cloud Marble (known latterly to readers of these books as the Red Heart Marble). Despite many searches with specially designed detectors it had not been found. The chief Stone Splitters had come to the conclusion that it had been taken back into space by the last Meteorite to visit Earth.

The older Stone Splitter, about sixty years old and called Alex, said to his companion,

Soon. Very soon. It should be reaching the critical temperature now.

Will we hear anything? asked his junior, but partner, Frank.

No. It will just disappear in a puff of smoke. It’s will be so hot in there, it probably won’t even show up on the dials. Compared to the fuel rods, it’s tiny. Don’t worry Frank. Relax! As he said this a sound – a crack in the air - caused them to turn around violently.

RUNNNNNN! screamed the older man, who was no longer so relaxed. The two of them began to skip across the field even though they could barely see where they were putting their feet. Frank twisted his ankle and ended up lying on his back, crying and unable to move. Alex ran ahead, leaving his partner behind.

Help! cried Frank.

No way! It’s going to blow! shouted Alex, who was by now fifty metres ahead. The sun had set, and he had disappeared into the night. So, Frank lay there on the grass - looking and waiting. Another crack. It hurt Frank’s ears. The domed structure split open and from it erupted a thick line of purest white. It cut across the sky and shot into space. The moon was visible that night, and the Stone Splitter watched incredulously as the light seemed to graze its hazed edge. Then the light faded. The crack in the reactor remained. Alarms sounded. There were distant shouts as genuine engineers ran away from the overheating fuel rods. But there was no explosion. Nobody had died. The Piece had proved too powerful for this fragile, human structure.

Frank struggled to his feet and found a way to walk without hurting his ankle too much. As he watched the ground for rocks and holes he noticed something. The grass seemed to be coated in a copper coloured dust. It had not been there before the explosion. He knelt down and picked a weed. He held it close to his face and studied the metallic coating. It was everywhere! It was even on his clothes. Even his skin!

By the time he had hobbled to the edge of the field (where his unhelpful companion was waiting in a van), Frank had collected several rocks and weeds. He did not share his discovery, having decided to experiment with the orange dust on his own. When he was ready he would tell his leader all about it. He had a hunch that this substance was special.

Ready? asked Alex.

Yes. Let’s go.

The engine started.

Thanks for running off, said Frank, sarcastically. He rubbed his ankle.

Don’t be cheeky with me son!

Chapter I

Miss Annabelle Blue, a primary school teacher, looked out of the window. She saw blue sky, and smiled. Her mother had named her after the clear, clean air that Earth's inhabitants tried so hard to enjoy. Below her, two hundred metres below in fact, the brown fug rippled like an ill-fitting carpet, covering all but the tallest buildings. Annabelle was lucky to work in this school; it hovered high over the city, and while she gave her lessons and looked after the children she was able to breathe fresh air.

The school looked like a square. In the middle of the square was a tree, it's trunk jutting up through the courtyard. It was protected by a fence, so that children would not pull off bits of bark or carve their initials, and most importantly so that they would not climb to the top, crawl over the height of the school roof, and fall off. If they did they would most certainly die.

The tree did not go all the way down to the ground. It floated, supported by a force-field generated by the roots which were visible beneath the school. The children gazed at them as they travelled up the fibre-line every morning. The roots shone in the sunlight, and sparkled after it had rained, plump with moisture. This was no ordinary tree. Deep within those roots, hidden, lay the red-heart marble. No-one knew this. You know this, because you have read the other books. Annabelle Blue had no idea. The power of the marble had enabled to tree to rise above the pollution, and to survive.

Annabelle was due to start her first class of the day. Through her window she could see a few stragglers flying up the fibre-line, one hand hidden within the green beam of energy, the other clasping a toy or a rucksack. They were supposed to wear their rucksacks properly, and she made a note of one boy who was clearly misbehaving - swinging on the line, trying to do a complete circle. There was no danger of course. It was impossible to become detached from the beam until they reached the fibre-line station in the courtyard.

As Annabelle walked around the school to her usual classroom she felt a vibration on her wrist. A message was coming through. She touched her the inside of her wrist and held her palm in front of her. Letters formed on her skin, moving from right to left,

-- PLEASE SEE THE HEADMISTRESS DURING FIRST BREAK --

Annabelle thought nothing of it, and taught the class in her customary happy way. At break she walked around to see Mrs Groom, the headmistress. Her door slid open when Annabelle arrived, revealing a thin lady sitting at a desk. Mrs Groom swirled around, and held up a piece of old fashioned paper. Paper! They hardly used it any more. In fact, the only people who did use it were the government departments, because they had learned long ago that using paper was the only way to keep secrets.

It’s from the Department of Education, explained Mrs Groom.

What does it say?

We are being merged.

With whom? Hotham?

No. All of them. Every school in the area. Can you believe it?

They can’t. So many children!

I know. And lots of teachers will lose their jobs. They propose a completely new building, even higher than this one.

That’s something. Annabelle thought about the fresh air, but then she began to worry. What if she was one of the teachers to lose her job? What do we do?

We need to get all the teachers together, then the parents. Then we decide whether to protest.

Annabelle was shocked. She did not think of Mrs Groom as someone who would make trouble. Mrs Groom was in charge, she was their leader, and to imagine her disobeying the Department of Education was shocking.

As Annabelle entered the staffroom she glimpsed the tree through a wide window. Its leaves, always green, were rustling in the breeze. She stopped suddenly and gasped. What about the tree? What would happen to it?

Chapter II

Things moved quickly after Annabelle’s short conversation with Mrs Groom. A visitor arrived from the Department of Education and explained that the new ‘mega-school’ had already been designed. The head teachers in other schools had agreed to be part of it. They had four weeks’ notice. Little time for meetings with teachers or parents.

At the end of the next school day Annabelle watched the children leap into the air, hands securely bound to the fibre-line. The line would take each of them to their own homes directly, but for the first part of the journey the common route allowed friends to stay together and chat or laugh or mess about. Then, when all the children had left and the classrooms were tidy, Annabelle put her coat on and carried her bag to the courtyard. She stood in front of the tree and stared at it. She had always loved it. In fact, she had grown up just a few hundred metres away, and had often looked up at the strange root system when the smog was clear. She had loved to watch the shining roots waving in the air.

She had heard stories about the tree when she was young. How it had grown on the common; how the local children had played on it. How a father who was a carpenter had built a small tree-house, and then, because it was popular, a second floor. It grew bit by bit and became a kind of park in the air.

The tree proved to be strong. It held up an entire floor on which a children’s’ club met in the summer. Wooden steps led in a spiral from the ground to the first thick branch. When someone invented force-fields in 2043 another floor was added. The club turned into a kind of school.

When the pollution problems in the city became serious something strange happened. The tree’s roots grew rapidly, became exposed and lifted the trunk off the ground. Ten years later, by which time many businesses and schools were being built hundreds of metres above ground level on massive force fields, the tree detached itself from the earth entirely. The roots seemed to generate their own force fields.

A new school was being planned. The chosen architect came to this part of the city, talked to local children and realised that the tree was the centre of the community. She had a great idea – build the school around the tree. She drew a square, worked out how to fit in all the classrooms, and submitted the plans. They were agreed, and building work began. The tree was covered for a few months to protect it from dust or damage.

On opening day, the tree’s foliage was revealed. The leaves looked healthier than ever. The force fields were turned on and people watched as the building slowly moved above the smog into the blue sky. Fibre-lines were set up, and the new teachers volunteered to go first. All went well. On the first day of term children flew up on the lines and a normal school day followed.

One year later there was a disaster. The central power unit that fed the force-fields failed. Two other schools in the neighbourhood fell to the ground, but luckily it was a weekend and there was nobody in them. However, the tree-school did not move. The roots, with their numerous small force-fields, kept it afloat. It was regarded as a miracle. Journalists came from all over the world to take photographs and tell the tree’s story. Then it was forgotten. Everything carried on as usual. The school became part of the everyday life.

And now… they planned to take it away.

Chapter III

The day arrived. All the children had been told to stay at home, and Annabelle walked through the classrooms for the last time. She noticed pictures and paintings on the walls, but it was too late to take them down and give them to the right children. She looked out into the courtyard, looked at the climbing frame (which was usually crawling with pupils at break time) and began to cry. Mrs Groom appeared in a doorway behind her,

Come along Miss Blue, you can’t delay it any longer. And I can’t leave until the place is completely empty, so be on your way. The fibre-line won’t be deactivated until the first electro-slicer arrives.

Annabelle shuddered. The electro-slicers were flying demolition machines that could reduce a building to dust in one hour.

The tree... Annabelle cried. It’s been part of our lives since we were born. Can’t it be saved?

I asked, believe me I did. But it can’t be detached from the structure of the school without a great deal of expense, and they just won’t pay for it.

It’s so sad.

It is, but it’s out of our hands. Mrs Groom stroked Annabelle head. Come along now. At least you have a job to go to.

At this Annabelle paused, and scolded herself. She was lucky. Mrs Groom was being asked to retire.

You go first, please, said Annabelle. I’ll be right behind.

You promise?

Of course.

Mrs Groom stood at the fibre-line station, checked all was clear, put her hand into the beam and dropped into the air. Annabelle took her place at the station and did the same, but instead of flying in the same direction as the headmistress she twisted the beam towards the tree’s root system. There were automatic alarms to prevent such changes to the normal fibre-line direction, but Annabelle had disabled them during her last morning in the school. She only had a few minutes before a fibre-line engineer or an order-bot flew in to sort the problem out. But in those few minutes she wanted to touch the roots and find something out. In a few moments she was hanging, quite still, in front of the shining filaments. Below her Mrs Groom grew smaller and smaller, until she disappeared under the carpet of smog. Just before this however the older woman looked up briefly and opened her mouth in shock to see her favourite stopping under the courtyard.

Annabelle reached out to touch the roots. They welcomed her by encircling her fingers. They felt cool, and made her skin tingle.

Can I come in? she asked. The curtain of roots opened up like the door to a cave and created a floor for her to walk on. She detached herself from the fibre-line with an effort (this would definitely set off alarms in the main beam generator) and jumped onto the floor of roots. If the floor was not strong enough, or if it suddenly disappeared, she would fall to her death. But the roots showed her the way. The walls grew darker as she neared the centre of the root system. For a while the light was so dim she could barely see, but then she noticed a red glow some metres ahead. After a few more steps she was able to identify its source. A glass orb, the size of an old-fashioned marble, hung before her eyes, suspended on feathery, ancient roots. Annabelle had no idea what it was, or why it was there. But she knew the secret of the tree’s powers rested here.

I’m sorry, she said. I don’t know what to do. They are coming to destroy you.

No reply. The surface of the marble moved like a fluid. Looking into it more carefully Annabelle could make out some details: a girl running, a tower (Annabelle recognised it from a history book), a boy holding hands with the girl...

And then, she fell asleep.

Chapter IV

Tamsin Taylor (yes, that is her surname, it has not been mentioned before) was brushing her teeth. Ten years old now, she was trusted to bathe on her own, get changed and clean her teeth. She still loved it when her mother or father read to her in bed, but they were often busy with