Hector Trogg's Perfect World. P. A. Booth
hit the target.
Hector paid attention. He appreciated that in a computerised tank you had to know what you were doing to fire the gun, and he was determined to fire the tank’s gun. He asked several questions, clarifying the steps needed to load, aim and fire the gun.
Kate tried to feign interest in the long ramble about trajectories, tanks and shells and how these affect accuracy. Hector, on the other hand, made no attempt whatsoever to look interested as soon as he had worked out which controls did what. Accuracy was for those without talent. Clearly, if he fired a shot it was going to hit; that was the way of the world, or at least the way of Hector’s world. Hector was brilliant, in Hector’s opinion, and it was the only opinion that mattered.
‘Wow, a moving target,’ yelled Hector while looking through the gun sights and pointing. ‘This is going to be great.’
‘Are you serious?’ asked the soldier, ‘If there is something moving we cannot fire.’
‘Why not, he’s got his gun pointed at us,’ replied Hector.
The soldier let out a resigned sigh, and took a look through the gun sight.
‘Ohhh,’ was all he managed to say before a massive explosion rocked the tank and threw him to the floor.
‘Oops,’ said Hector. ‘I think this is for real’.
The soldier indicated to Kate that she needed to get their tank moving, but Kate was ahead of him, and already they were picking up speed. He began yelling something about a tiger into the radio.
‘Tiger?’ questioned Hector.
‘An old German Tiger tank,’ the soldier replied.
‘No,’ said Hector, looking into the gun sights, ‘there are three of them.’
‘You two have some terrible enemies,’ the soldier said, as another nearby explosion rocked their tank, and he began to shout into the radio again. Next, he armed the main gun and told Hector to move over so he could aim.
‘No,’ said Hector, ‘this is my go.’
Before the soldier could reply, another explosion rocked them, and the soldier turned to tell Kate to vary her course more.
‘You want me to zig zag?’ she shouted.
‘No, but not so straight, and do not keep an even speed,’ he said, just as Hector muttered ‘Got ya’.
‘No!’ the soldier instructed, but it was too late. Hector had fired.
‘You’ve wasted one of our shots,’ the soldier said angrily.
‘No, I haven’t. I got him,’ declared Hector.
Moments later the soldier had seen the wrecked tiger tank for himself, and loaded the other shell. Hector was already tracking one of the other tanks.
The next few minutes were fraught, as Kate took them behind hills, slowed and accelerated. Explosions echoed around them, some closer and some not so near.
‘They are not very good’ said the soldier, ‘but they can still get lucky.’
‘He’s tipped over, he’s tipped over,’ yelled Hector suddenly. It was true, one of the Tiger tanks had run up an embankment and toppled over. ‘They must be real idiots.’
As if to wake them from Hector’s confidence, another blast rocked the tank, and this one was much, much closer. The tank lurched to the left.
‘It’s going to the left’ yelled Kate, ‘I cannot go straight or right.’
‘They’ve damaged our tracks,’ said the soldier. ‘They’ve been lucky’.
Then, bit by bit, the tank slowed to a halt.
‘We are sitting geese,’ yelled the soldier, ‘get out!’
‘Sitting ducks,’ Kate corrected, as Hector briefly reflected on just how annoying his sister could be at times.
‘Too late, the Tiger tank is here,’ said Hector, looking through the sights.
There was a boom, and then silence.
‘Got it,’ said Hector, in the same matter of fact voice he used when completing a well-known level on a computer game. The soldier let out a long sigh. Then he started talking into the radio, as Kate and Hector heard the squeak and rumble of arriving French armour.
Kate and Hector exchanged looks. Hector grinned and Kate looked worried. They had survived again, against all the odds. Hector thought about school, and how much fun he was going to have telling his friends about all of this. Of course, some would not believe him, but there might be newspaper reports.
‘That doesn’t look like our tank,’ said Hector, just as the soldier took a look himself.
‘Leopard. Leopard tank. It is a Leopard,’ he stuttered, a look of shock on his face.
‘Any more shells?’ Hector asked quickly.
‘No no. We’re dead. Where did they get a German Leopard Tank?’ the soldier said to no one in particular.
‘They’ve been stealing old planes from collectors. Maybe they stole the tanks from collectors,’ said Hector, in a matter of fact tone. Hector believed the tank’s armour would protect them against anything.
Kate began pressing all of the buttons.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Hector.
‘Causing a distraction, or at least trying to,’ said Kate.
‘Too late, all too late,’ said the soldier, shaking his head.
As if to confirm the worst they heard the boom of the leopard tank firing its killing shot, and they all crouched a little lower.
After a moment or two the soldier looked up, and Hector looked through the sights.
‘The tank’s on fire. Something must have gone wrong,’ said Hector, just as he saw a familiar figure walking towards the burning tank. It was Pierre, and he was holding some equipment.
The soldier looked through the sights and muttered something about a Eyrx anti-armour missile. Then he slumped to the floor shaking and cried a little. Kate put her hand on his shoulder as he muttered things in French.
‘What’s an ear-wax missile?’ asked Hector.
‘Eryx not ear-wax, you idiot,’ Kate answered, ‘and show some sympathy.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Hector patting the soldier on his arm in a cheerful and utterly insensitive way, ‘this happens to us most days now, and we always survive. Actually, I quite like it.’
‘Hector,’ Kate exclaimed, but she could not decide what offended her most; the way he ignored someone else’s distress, or his wild and utterly unjustified optimism.
‘Well it’s simple, isn’t it,’ Hector explained, ‘I’ve decided there is a God and he wants me to get to that cake shop. Come on, I bet Pierre’s got a car. I hope it’s a sports car.’
Hector continued to mutter as he got out of the tank. ‘Maybe he’ll let me drive. After all, I didn’t get my go at driving the tank. It’s not my fault it’s ruined. Kate was driving, and she went very fast.’
As Hector walked from the tank he caught sight of Pierre. ‘Pierre, Pierre! Sorry the tank’s ruined.’
‘Get down!’ yelled Pierre, and Hector was roughly pushed to the ground by another soldier who had run up from behind.
‘We have to wait until the area is safe,’ said Pierre, as the sound of a helicopter grew louder.
Hector realised that his hopes of driving a fast sports car from the scene of a tank battle straight to a cake shop were not going to be realised.
CHAPTER FOUR