George and the Ship of Time (George's Secret Key) - Softcover

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Lucy Hawking, Stephen Hawking’s daughter, is a journalist and novelist. She is the coauthor of the George’s Secret Key series for kids, as well as the author of the adult novels Jaded and Run for Your Life. She lives in Cambridge with her son.

Garry Parsons is the award-winning illustrator of many books, including George’s Secret Key to the Universe, George’s Cosmic Treasure Hunt, George and the Big Bang, George and the Unbreakable Code, and George and the Blue Moon by Lucy and Stephen Hawking; Billy’s Bucket by Kes Gray; and What’s Cool About School by Kate Agnew. He lives in London. Visit him at GarryParsons.co.uk.

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George and the Ship of Time

Chapter One

The spaceship landed on its backside with a huge crunch. It wobbled precariously for several minutes but managed not to topple over. Instead, it was wedged into the rocky ground at an angle like a spacey version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Clouds of dust billowed around it. It would have been quite a sight—if someone had been there to see it. Around the ship, for miles and miles, stretched bleached, sandy ground, as empty as a lunar desert under a blistering milky sky.



Inside the ship, the two astronauts stayed strapped in their seats as the rocking motion shuddered to a halt.

“I feel a bit sick,” bleated Boltzmann, who hadn’t yet opened his eyes.

“Don’t be silly,” said George. “You’re a robot, you don’t know how to feel sick.”

“Yes I do,” protested Boltzmann. During his time in space with George, he had started to believe that he was not just an intelligent robot but a sentient one too. “I have feelings!”

George, who preferred facts to feelings anyway, didn’t want to discuss Boltzmann’s feelings at that moment. “Is landing complete?”

“Yes, thank you, Boltzmann!” replied his robot huffily.

“Thank you, Boltzmann,” murmured George. “Interesting landing technique.”

“We are on the surface of a celestial body. I call that landing.”

“Not being funny,” said George, “but this is Earth, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” said the robot, looking around. “But it’s hard to be entirely sure.”

“What if it isn’t?” asked George. “What if you’ve landed us on the wrong planet?” As soon as he said it, he realized his mistake. On their long journey, Boltzmann had become more and more human in his reactions. Any hint of criticism made him very tetchy.

“Look, I’ve done my best!” cried the robot. “After all, it’s because of you that we went into space in the first place.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” sighed George. “And thank you for coming on the journey with me. I couldn’t have flown this spacecraft by myself.”

“Oh shucks!” said Boltzmann, more happily. “I’ve never been allowed to spend so much time with a human before. It’s been most educational. As a robot, I never dreamed . . .” He paused. “Robots don’t dream,” he corrected himself. “I never thought that I would get the chance to have a human friend. And there is no other human I would have chosen. You are the best of your species, astronaut George.”

Unexpectedly George felt a lump in his throat. “Aw, Boltz!” he said. “You’ve been the best of robots. No, actually”—he cleared his throat—“the best of friends, robot or human.”

Boltzmann smiled, then reached over with his metal pincer hands and undid George’s straps.

“Are we getting out?”

“Yes!” said the robot. “I don’t know about you but I’m ready to stretch my legs!”

“How are we going to do that?” asked George. “Aren’t we a bit high up off the ground? Will my bones break if I jump out?”

“Fortunately,” said Boltzmann, peering out of the window, “by landing the ship upright—a clever maneuver, even if I say so myself—I seem to have crushed the bottom half and we’re much lower down than we should be. So your bones should be able to withstand the descent.”

On the day of the launch, they had boarded the huge spacecraft through an umbilical tower, which had raised them up to the entry point. As George peered out of the window, he could see that Boltzmann was correct. It was still quite a way down to the surface of this planet—Earth?—but it was jumpable, just about, although the windows must have gotten really dirty during landing as he couldn’t see much of a view—only a sort of flat whiteness.

“Where have we landed?” George checked the control panel of the spaceship to try to gain some clues as to where they were.

But the spaceship had come home to die. Once an adventurer that had charged beyond the edges of the solar system itself, now the Artemis was no more than scrap metal, blank screens, and pointless switches.

“None of my devices are connecting either,” said Boltzmann. “I don’t understand why. I hope this is Earth. I don’t feel emotionally prepared to greet a new planet right now.”

“Well!” said George. “There’s a more practical problem. If this isn’t Earth, I might not be able to breathe the atmosphere . . .”

“I’ll go first,” said Boltzmann in a noble voice, “and test the conditions. I may be gone some time . . .”

“Thanks,” muttered George, who wasn’t in the slightest bit worried about Boltzmann stepping out of the ship. Testing the conditions was in no way as dangerous for a robot as it was for a human being. He peered out of the window again. Where on Earth—literally—were they?

“Are you excited?” asked Boltzmann as he busied himself around the exit hatch.

“Yes!” said George. “I want to see my mom and dad. And Annie! And find out what’s been going on. What was that weird message she sent us? I hope they’ve managed to fix everything by now . . . and I’m hungry! I’d like some real food . . .”

“Personally,” said the robot, “or robotically, I can’t wait to catch up with my robot brethren on Earth and share my insights into the human condition. I think they will be fascinated to hear—”

“Yup!” said George, cutting off Boltzmann’s musings, which he had heard quite a few times on the space journey. “Well, come on, then. Let’s get out of this spaceship before it switches itself off and we’re stuck in here forever.”

“Ta-dah!” said the robot as the hatch swung open, giving them a panoramic view of the world beyond—except the visibility was so bad they couldn’t really see anything at all. Air blew in, carrying sticky sand and sooty particles that stuck to them.

“Bleugh!” said Boltzmann, trying to brush the tiny flakes off his metal carapace. “I don’t remember Earth being this dirty. But good news! You can breathe the air—I’ve run a test and its composition is just about safe for you.”

“What do you mean just about safe?” said George, coughing as he took off his helmet. The air tasted nasty and had a gritty feel to it.

“The carbon-dioxide content seems very high,” said the robot dubiously. “Higher than I remember. Way less oxygen and far more greenhouse gases. But I think you’ll survive for at least a few minutes.”

George spluttered a few times as he stuck his head out of the hatch and looked around. He realized that the windows of the spaceship hadn’t been dirty—there was simply nothing to see...