Space Plague

by Zac Harrison

  At the end of the corridor, the doctor paused. “Try and stay positive. Kaal cannot speak but if he can hear you, it is better that he doesn’t know how worried we are.”

  John nodded again. Dr Kasaria placed her hand on a wall panel. The door slid open. John walked quickly past the Meteor Medic by the bed and looked down on his room-mate.

  More tubes had been inserted into Kaal’s flesh. An oxygen mask covered his face. John had to force himself not to step back. Even from a metre away, he could feel the heat rising from his friend’s body. Kaal’s normally bulging muscles looked as if they had deflated. His skin hung loose and, as John watched, began to change colour, turning from green to a violent shade of red. The only sounds in the room were the hissing of oxygen and hushed beeps from a bank of monitors.

  John reached out and put a quarantine-suited hand on Kaal’s arm, feeling burning skin through the gel. “All right, mate?” he said, trying to make his voice sound as cheerful as possible. “You missed a really harsh exam today...”

  Kaal remained completely still and silent as John talked, the only sign of life the constantly changing colours of his skin and the rising and falling of his chest as oxygen was pumped into his lungs. John forced himself to go on, keeping his voice cheerful – even as he realized that his best friend was dying.

  Chapter 10

  John talked and talked, hardly taking time to draw breath, his gaze fixed on Kaal’s face. He talked about the fun they would have playing their virtual-reality games when Kaal recovered, about their adventures on Zirion Beta and Archivus Major, winning the Robot Warriors’ competition, visiting the scholars of Kerallin, and the deadly battle they fought at the Space Spectacular.

  “It’s been a really full-on couple of months,” he told his friend. “Let’s hope we can get through next term without being in grave danger every five minutes.” He paused for a moment, then continued quietly, “That’s if I make it back next term. I totally messed up the Hyperspace History exam.”

  For the first time, Kaal’s eyelids flickered. John leaned forward. “Kaal?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

  The Meteor Medic floated forward. “Visit terminated,” it said.

  “But he can hear me,” said John. “His eyes moved. I’m getting through to him.”

  “Leave immediately,” the droid droned, “or the Examiners will be informed.”

  There was no choice but to leave. Telling Kaal he would be back as soon as possible, John walked out of the isolation room and into the reception area. It was empty now. He paused, guessing that the doctor had gone to the new emergency ward in the 4-D cinema. Turning, John looked through the screen to the quarantine ward. Emmie lay on a bed near the far end of the room, her fearful eyes staring up at the ceiling. As he watched, a pale blue tear ran down her cheek.

  John felt his heart lurch in his chest.

  Dr Kasaria didn’t say I couldn’t visit Emmie, too, he told himself, already moving towards the disinfectant field that led into the ward. I won’t disturb anyone; I’ll just spend a few minutes with her.

  “Stop,” droned an electronic voice behind him. “Rule number five-zero-four: no student is to enter the quarantine ward.”

  Unseen by John, an Examiner had floated through the medical wing’s main doors.

  But John didn’t stop. “It’s OK!” he called over his shoulder. “Dr Kasaria knows I’m here and I’m immune, there’s no dang—”

  A haze of green appeared around John, holding him in place, one foot through the disinfectant field.

  “Rule number zero-zero-eight-three: Examiners are to be obeyed at all times. Punishment for non-compliance—”

  A ball of light flashed through the wall and sparkled into the form of the headmaster. “I will deal with this,” Lorem said sternly.

  The force field flicked off. Able to move again, John turned to face Lorem. The headmaster looked grave.

  Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now.

  “Take a walk with me, John,” Lorem said, striding towards the door.

  The tone of his voice made John’s feet start moving before Lorem had even finished his sentence. “I just wanted to see Emmie, sir,” he explained, as he followed the headmaster out into the corridor. “I wasn’t going to stay long...”

  Lorem raised his hand, and John immediately stopped talking, walking in silence as the white-robed headmaster turned and strode along an empty corridor that ended at one of Hyperspace High’s observation decks.

  Ignoring the comfortable MorphSeats, Lorem crossed the floor, standing at the edge of the deck. John knew that a transparent dome surrounded them, but, even so, he had to stop himself from lunging forward to drag the headmaster out of danger. It seemed as if he were standing on the very edge of space. Nervously, John joined him, standing by his side and looking out at the glittering clusters of stars.

  For a few heartbeats neither spoke. Eventually, John cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry. I thought it might make Emmie feel better to see a friend.”

  Lorem looked down at him. “Don’t worry about that,” he said kindly. “I would have done the same thing in your position. Still, it is never a good idea to disobey the Examiners. Next time wait for Dr Kasaria to return and ask permission.” The headmaster resumed watching the stars again.

  “So, I’m... err... not going to be punished then?”

  “John, I sense how troubled you are by your friends’ illness. I know exactly how you feel. When I was a young boy, many centuries ago, my best friend contracted Zhaldarian Flu. I still remember how helpless I felt watching him suffer.”

  “What happened to your friend?” asked John. “He got better, right?”

  Lorem shook his head, his purple eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry to say that he didn’t make it.”

  “But you said that you’d seen the future. Isn’t everything going to be OK?”

  “I said that I hope one possible future will come to pass, but, as I told you, it depends on the choices that certain people will make.” Lorem continued, “It was thought that Zhaldarian Flu had been wiped out over two hundred years ago after the entire universe had been vaccinated against it. There hasn’t been a single case in all that time. However, it appears that Doctor Graal opened a box containing a rock sample from Zhaldaria in class a few days ago. The sample was infected.”

  John’s eyes widened as he remembered Kaal reaching out to touch Doctor Graal’s precious rock sample in their Galactic Geography class. “All this suffering is Doctor Graal’s fault, then?” He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.

  “Do not be so quick to judge, John,” the headmaster replied, holding up one finger. “I know you dislike Doctor Graal, but it was not her fault.”

  “If she had checked before she opened the box, Kaal wouldn’t be fighting for his life... sir.”

  Lorem sighed. “No one has thought much about Zhaldarian Flu for two centuries. Most planets have stopped vaccinating their children against it. Everyone believed that it had been eradicated completely, and there was no way Doctor Graal could have known. Would you have thought to check a tiny rock sample for an ancient disease?”

  John’s shoulders slumped. “There’s no cure, then?” he said eventually, shaking his head. “We just have to wait and see who survives and who dies?”

  With a solemn nod, the headmaster said, “We know how to produce an effective vaccine, but once the disease has taken hold there is nothing anyone can do. We will keep the patients as comfortable as possible and treat their symptoms, but there is no known cure.” He paused for a moment, then continued thoughtfully, “Though I have been doing some research. My friend Scholar Aristil, who you met on Kerallin, tells me that just before Zhaldarian Flu disappeared, a group of scientists on Gwaterra Four claimed that they had discovered certain microbes that could cure the disease.”

  John felt a surge of hope rising in his che
st. “Can we get some?”

  For a moment, Lorem’s eyes sparkled with their usual brilliance. But it faded so quickly, John thought he might have imagined it. Wearily, the headmaster replied, “Zhaldarian Flu vanished soon after they made their discovery. Other scientists challenged the Gwaterrans findings and, with no patients to test their theory on, it remains uncertain whether the microbes are an effective cure.”

  “It must be worth a try, though,” John said eagerly.

  The headmaster nodded slowly. “Perhaps. But the microbes are very rare. They only exist in the core of the Zaleta Nebula. The Gwaterrans thought that when Zhaldaria’s star exploded, destroying the planet, the radiation changed the structure of the flu virus, creating a new strain that adapted to live at the heart of a nebula. According to their theory, these new microbes would cure the disease they originally created. Microbes that can dwell in such a hostile environment are unheard of, but if they do exist it is likely that they would have highly unusual properties.”

  “If we know where they are, why hasn’t anyone gone to find some?” John asked with a frown.

  “Because it is an extremely dangerous task. The microbes are very delicate and would only be found in the hot gases at the very core of the nebula. No robot has ever successfully made the trip – their circuits have all been scrambled by radioactive interference. The only possible way would be if someone were brave enough to dive to the centre of the nebula and collect the microbes by hand.”

  “But someone has to try,” John replied bluntly. “People will die—”

  “I have contacted the Galactic Council,” Lorem interrupted. “No one is willing to take a chance on an unproven hypothesis.”

  “Then someone from Hyperspace High?”

  The headmaster shook his head again. “During an emergency, the priority for staff is to look after sick students. There are few enough of us left as it is.”

  “A student, then. Why couldn’t a student go?”

  Seconds ticked by as the headmaster stood, looking at John in silence. Finally, he spoke, his voice more serious than John had ever heard it before. “The Galactic Council would never allow me to send a student on such a dangerous mission.”

  “Then what can we do?”

  “We can wait, John. Wait and hope.”

  Chapter 11

  As the headmaster turned into a ball of light and zipped away, John remained where he was, staring out into space with his hands in his pockets.

  Somewhere out there might be a cure for Emmie and Kaal.

  A strand of blond hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it away and blinked. “Zepp?”

  “Yes, John,” replied the computer’s voice.

  “Would a human being be able to withstand... no, actually, nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Telling his thoughts to the ship’s computer was a sure way of inviting failure before his plan was even fully formed. Zepp would be duty-bound to inform on him.

  “Very well,” Zepp replied. “If you need help, just let me know.”

  John pulled his ThinScreen from his bag. His fingers tapped across it, delving into the wafer-thin computer’s almost limitless data banks until he found what he was looking for. His eyes fixed on the screen, he began walking towards the nearest TravelTube, fingers moving deftly as he searched for more information and boarded the lift.

  “Dormitory level sixteen.”

  John tucked the ThinScreen back into his bag as the door slid open onto the common-room area outside the dormitories. At this time of day, it was usually buzzing with conversation as students relaxed between classes. Now, it was virtually empty. Dol, Kritta, and Werril were sitting by the fountain in the middle of the room, talking in hushed voices. A few metres beyond them, Mordant Talliver was slumped in a MorphSeat, staring into space in stony silence, his Serve-U-Droid hovering silently beside him.

  “Are you immune, too?” asked dolphin-like Dol as John approached.

  John nodded. “So Dr Kasaria says. And you?”

  “Yes. There are a few of us and some, like Kritta, who were vaccinated against Zhaldarian Flu. Some planets still do it.”

  “Thank goodness,” Kritta said, clicking her insect-like mouthparts with feeling.

  “Is anyone else left?” John asked, hoping there were other students unaffected. Although he liked the three of them, he needed help and none of them were well suited to the task he had in mind.

  “We’re the only first-years,” said Werril, nervously rubbing the horn that sprouted from the middle of his face. “There are a few older students scattered around, but another flu wave went through the ship like a hurricane about an hour ago. Lishtig’s down with it now, Gobi... everyone.”

  John crossed his arms. “OK, then I need one of you guys to help me.”

  Kritta turned her enormous compound eyes on him. “Help you do what?”

  As quickly as possible, John repeated what the headmaster had said about the microbes at the centre of the Zaleta Nebula. “I’ve checked it out,” he finished. “Properly protected, I should be able to withstand the environment in the middle of the nebula for about thirty minutes. There are nebula-diving pods in the main hangar. All I need is for someone to fly the ship while I go in and get what we need.”

  Three faces stared at him in confusion.

  “You want to steal a ship, fly to the Zaleta Nebula, and go looking for microbes that may or may not have any effect on the Zhaldarian Flu?” Kritta asked after a few moments.

  “And probably kill yourself in the process,” added Werril.

  “If we don’t try, our friends are going to die,” John said, hoping one of them would rise to the challenge.

  “They’ll probably die anyway,” Werril pointed out. “There’s no proof these microbes will help.”

  “But they might work,” John replied quickly. “It’s got to be worth the risk.”

  “I don’t think so,” Werril said, taking a step backward. “You’d never manage to get off Hyperspace High. And even if you did, it’s a completely crazy plan.”

  “Listen to Werril,” Dol said. “It’s madness. Besides, Lorem said himself that he could never allow you to risk your life.”

  “No,” John replied quietly. “He said the Galactic Council would never allow it. He also said that the choices we make could change the future.”

  “You’re hearing what you want to hear, John,” Kritta said gently. “The headmaster didn’t mean that you should fly off and get yourself killed.”

  John looked from face to face to face. It was already obvious that none of his classmates was prepared to risk their lives. Nevertheless, they were his only hope. He would never get to the Zaleta Nebula and back on his own.

  “Think of Kaal,” he pleaded with Kritta, who he knew had a soft spot for his friend. “We have to try and help him.”

  As Dol, Kritta, and Werril looked back at him blankly, there was a rustle from behind. Mordant Talliver was standing and looking at John grimly. Groaning inwardly, John turned to face him, preparing himself for a torrent of abuse.

  Instead, Mordant said simply, “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you.”

  Chapter 12

  “Are you serious?” John asked, almost choking on the words. He goggled at the half-Gargon. Mordant Talliver was the last person he would have expected to volunteer for a life-saving mission. A thought went through his mind: Of course he’s not serious, you fool. Any moment now he’s going to start laughing at you.

  Mordant’s face remained set in its grim expression. “Do I look like I’m joking?” he snapped. “There are sick people who need our help. What are you waiting for?”

  “But... but... you—”

  John did not have a chance to finish the sentence. At the end of the common room, a TravelTube door slid open, and an Examiner floated out. “Emergency quarantine rule zero-zero-twelve. No further interaction between
students is permitted,” it droned. “All students confined to their dormitories until the flu epidemic has passed.”

  John glanced at Mordant. He was still unsure if the half-Gargon was trying to make a fool of him, but if they were both stuck in their dormitories, they would never get to the Zaleta Nebula.

  There’s no choice, I have to take the risk.

  As the Examiner floated closer, John shouted, “NOW!”

  Instantly, John, Mordant, and G-Vez dived through the open door of the TravelTube from which the Examiner had just exited. John quickly looked back. Lights flashed across the Examiner’s spherical head. Any moment a green force would paralyse them both. He punched a panel on the inside of the TravelTube, hearing the Examiner’s voice: “Rule zero-zero-eight-three...” as the door snapped shut.

  “Deck three!” Mordant yelled.

  The TravelTube hurtled straight down.

  “No, we need to get to the main hangar, not deck three!” John shouted. “Computer—”

  A tentacle slapped across his mouth before he could give the new order. “The Examiners will be looking for us,” hissed Mordant, “and they’re hooked into the ship’s systems. If we take the TravelTube to the hangar, that’s where they’ll start searching. Understand?”

  John nodded. Mordant removed the tentacle and continued, “We’ll have to do this fast. G-Vez, you set off an alarm to distract the Examiners.”

  The silver droid bobbed at Mordant’s shoulder and said, “Yes, Master Talliver. It will be my pleasure to assist you, sir.”

  Looking at John, Mordant said, “Running from deck three to the hangar should take about five minutes. When we get there, you find a nebula-diving pod. They’ll be in the storage bay. I’ll get us a ship.”

  “Can’t we just be quick and grab the first one we see?”