Minutes later, the battered engine housing was surrounded by police, ambulance crews and amazed sightseers. The nine survivors of the Berners-Lee were sitting on raised stretchers, wrapped in blankets and being attended to by medics.
A van drew up and a TV news team piled out. They barged their way through the crowd of onlookers and approached Commander Ferguson, camera and microphone pointed in his direction.
“Get out of my face!” he growled.
The news team did a smart U-turn and looked for someone else to interview. Mr Snodbury spotted them, and moved aside the nurse who was seeing to the scratches on his forehead.
The news team descended upon him like a flock of vultures.
“Can you tell us your name?” gushed the reporter, holding a microphone under Mr Snodbury’s nose. “How do you feel? What happened on the Berners-Lee? How did you feel?”
Mr Snodbury looked over at George and his friends for a moment, then took a deep breath. “My name is Snodbury. What happened was that I deliberately sabotaged the space station. I caused the deaths of most of its crew, and the destruction of the station itself. I did it because MaxiBoost Spaceways paid me to do it. They lied to me about the effect my actions would have. They intended that MegaZone Corporation would lose business as a result.”
For a second or two, the news team were too stunned to speak. They weren’t used to someone accepting blame or being honest. Then a dozen people all started to talk at once, and Mr Snodbury was lost in a jostle of legs and voices.
George saw Commander Ferguson approaching him, and felt a fresh wave of nerves. The Commander sat down beside him.
“I want a word with you, George,” he said.
“Oh yes?” gulped George.
The Commander glanced around, taking in the scene. “There’s going to be a lot of fallout from today. MaxiBoost will be in big trouble. I’ll be asked a lot of questions. Before all that happens, there’s something I want to say to you.”
“Oh yes?” gulped George.
The Commander reached up to his shoulder, to where his Commander’s badge of rank was sewn to his uniform. Taking a firm grip on it, he tore it off.
“You saved nine lives today, boy,” he said. “You’re a hero. You kept your head, you took charge, and you got us home by throwing away the rule book. This belongs to you.”
He handed George the badge. It showed a logo of a ship zooming through the stars, and beneath it, in proudly silvery letters, were the words “V.C. Ferguson – COMMANDER – Berners-Lee Orbital Platform.”
“I’m sure you worked very hard to get this,” said George.
“So did you,” said Commander Ferguson.
“Thanks.” George smiled.
The Commander patted him on the back and walked away. George waited until the Commander was out of sight before he let his face show how much that pat had hurt his aching, battered muscles.
Amira was sitting on the stretcher next to George. “Just because you’re a hero and a senior officer of the space service,” she said, “it doesn’t mean you can start bossing us about.”
Josh was sitting the other side of George. “He’s going to be a right big-head now, isn’t he,” he sighed.
“He can be as much of a big-head as he likes,” said Dwayne, who was passing them on his way to the ambulance. George gave him another thumbs-up and Dwayne grinned.
“Well,” said Josh. “One thing’s for sure. Next year’s Year 6 are going to have real trouble topping today’s school trip.”