glasses,â said Gorman vaguely.
Zac put the glasses on.
It looked exactly like he was sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet. Zac grabbed the controller. On screen, it looked like he was touching real fighter-jet controls.
âWoah!â said Zac. It was the most realistic virtual-reality flight simulator ever.
âIsnât it incredible?â said Gorman. âEver piloted a fighter-jet before?â
Zac hadnât, but he couldnât wait to try. He took hold of the steering yoke. He sped off down the tarmac. He engaged the throttle. Then, with a loud, realistic whoosh of air, he was airborne!
Up Zac flew. He burst through the clouds. He was 20,000 feet and climbing.
He fiddled with the controls. One was for speed, one was to turn left and right. This flying thing doesnât look so hard, thought Zac.
Then Zac heard a warning siren.
A message flashed on his virtual computer screen.
. . . STORM ALERT! . . .
The sky went dark. Purple lightning slashed the sky. The plane shook violently. Zacâs fighter had been struck!
The fighter jerked one way, then the other. Zac couldnât get control of the steering. His computer screen flashed again.
. . . LOSING ALTITUDE! . . .
The plane nose-dived.
Helpless, Zac watched the altitude drop from 20,000 to 10,000 feet in a few seconds. He broke through the clouds. Right below was a mountain range.
He was going to crash!
Zac braced himself for impact. The fighter spun onto its back and slammed into the mountains. It burst into flames.
. . . GAME OVER! YOU LOSE! . . .
Zac ripped off the virtual-reality glasses. He was sweating. The plane crash had felt so real!
âAll right, Zac?â asked Gorman. âComputer games are so advanced these days. And so addictive! They really play mind games with you.â
Ghost-white, Zac nodded.
âWell, donât worry. Weâre at the airport now,â said Gorman cheerfully.
The van turned into a secret side entrance. The tarmac was just ahead. And there, waiting for Zac, was a miniature fighter jet.
âProbably shouldâve told you before,â said Gorman, absent-mindedly. âYouâre flying yourself to Bladesville. The flight simulator was your training.â
Zac said nothing.
A spy always keeps his cool.
âThatâs OK with you, isnât it, Zac?â
CHAPTER
THREE
Zac strode casually across the tarmac towards the mini-fighter jet. He raced up the stairs to the cockpit. The controls looked almost the same as the ones in the flight simulator. A radio headset sat on the pilotâs seat.
Zac put it on and heard a voice.
âZac Power, this is Air Traffic Control.
The time is 8.09pm. Weather conditions fine. Youâre cleared for take-off on runway three.â
Zac took hold of the yoke. He engaged the throttle and the engine growled.
The fighter jet taxied across the tarmac. Zac angled the yoke upwards and pushed harder on the throttle. The jet gathered speed. Then, with a loud thump as the wheels folded up, Zac was in the air.
But this time, it was for real!
Steadily, Zac climbed. He pierced the clouds. The sun was out and there was no wind. Perfect flying conditions!
Zac tipped the yoke forward. The plane dipped down. He pulled the yoke up again. The plane shot upwards. He pulled the yoke sharp right. The jet flipped over onto its side!
Cool! Zac tried the left-hand side. He shot into a wicked loop-the-loop.
Maybe this wasnât getting him to Bladesville as fast as possible. But it was so worth it!
A voice crackled in Zacâs radio headset.
âCome in, Zac Power.â
âPower here,â said Zac, as confidently as he could.
âWeather conditions in your airspace have declined,â said Air Traffic Control. âA freak electrical stormâs heading your way.â
Zac looked around. The brilliant sunshine had gone. Heavy black clouds were everywhere.
The fighter started to rattle and bump. Turbulence!
âSuggest
Zac put the glasses on.
It looked exactly like he was sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet. Zac grabbed the controller. On screen, it looked like he was touching real fighter-jet controls.
âWoah!â said Zac. It was the most realistic virtual-reality flight simulator ever.
âIsnât it incredible?â said Gorman. âEver piloted a fighter-jet before?â
Zac hadnât, but he couldnât wait to try. He took hold of the steering yoke. He sped off down the tarmac. He engaged the throttle. Then, with a loud, realistic whoosh of air, he was airborne!
Up Zac flew. He burst through the clouds. He was 20,000 feet and climbing.
He fiddled with the controls. One was for speed, one was to turn left and right. This flying thing doesnât look so hard, thought Zac.
Then Zac heard a warning siren.
A message flashed on his virtual computer screen.
. . . STORM ALERT! . . .
The sky went dark. Purple lightning slashed the sky. The plane shook violently. Zacâs fighter had been struck!
The fighter jerked one way, then the other. Zac couldnât get control of the steering. His computer screen flashed again.
. . . LOSING ALTITUDE! . . .
The plane nose-dived.
Helpless, Zac watched the altitude drop from 20,000 to 10,000 feet in a few seconds. He broke through the clouds. Right below was a mountain range.
He was going to crash!
Zac braced himself for impact. The fighter spun onto its back and slammed into the mountains. It burst into flames.
. . . GAME OVER! YOU LOSE! . . .
Zac ripped off the virtual-reality glasses. He was sweating. The plane crash had felt so real!
âAll right, Zac?â asked Gorman. âComputer games are so advanced these days. And so addictive! They really play mind games with you.â
Ghost-white, Zac nodded.
âWell, donât worry. Weâre at the airport now,â said Gorman cheerfully.
The van turned into a secret side entrance. The tarmac was just ahead. And there, waiting for Zac, was a miniature fighter jet.
âProbably shouldâve told you before,â said Gorman, absent-mindedly. âYouâre flying yourself to Bladesville. The flight simulator was your training.â
Zac said nothing.
A spy always keeps his cool.
âThatâs OK with you, isnât it, Zac?â
CHAPTER
THREE
Zac strode casually across the tarmac towards the mini-fighter jet. He raced up the stairs to the cockpit. The controls looked almost the same as the ones in the flight simulator. A radio headset sat on the pilotâs seat.
Zac put it on and heard a voice.
âZac Power, this is Air Traffic Control.
The time is 8.09pm. Weather conditions fine. Youâre cleared for take-off on runway three.â
Zac took hold of the yoke. He engaged the throttle and the engine growled.
The fighter jet taxied across the tarmac. Zac angled the yoke upwards and pushed harder on the throttle. The jet gathered speed. Then, with a loud thump as the wheels folded up, Zac was in the air.
But this time, it was for real!
Steadily, Zac climbed. He pierced the clouds. The sun was out and there was no wind. Perfect flying conditions!
Zac tipped the yoke forward. The plane dipped down. He pulled the yoke up again. The plane shot upwards. He pulled the yoke sharp right. The jet flipped over onto its side!
Cool! Zac tried the left-hand side. He shot into a wicked loop-the-loop.
Maybe this wasnât getting him to Bladesville as fast as possible. But it was so worth it!
A voice crackled in Zacâs radio headset.
âCome in, Zac Power.â
âPower here,â said Zac, as confidently as he could.
âWeather conditions in your airspace have declined,â said Air Traffic Control. âA freak electrical stormâs heading your way.â
Zac looked around. The brilliant sunshine had gone. Heavy black clouds were everywhere.
The fighter started to rattle and bump. Turbulence!
âSuggest
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