by Zac Harrison
“Grip the control stick firmly.”
Obeying the instructor, John felt the landing gear fold back into the craft beneath him. It was now hovering a metre above the deck. Gritting his teeth and feeling a bead of sweat break out on his forehead, John tried to keep the control stick perfectly still.
“Now, one at a time, when I call your name, pull back gently and click back the flight button on top. Ascend to thirty metres and circle the deck. Ready... Tarz, go!”
John watched as Emmie’s t-dart tilted and flew smoothly upward. Levelling off, it began to fly slowly around the hanger.
“Excellent, Tarz,” said Jegger, with a tiny hint of approval in his voice. “Rabbus, go. Keep at least twenty metres behind Tarz.”
One by one, the t-darts took off. None as smoothly as Emmie Tarz’s, but Jegger gave instructions to the pilots until they were flying in good order around the perimeter of the hangar. Soon, only two were left on the deck. “Talliver, go,” the sergeant ordered.
As Mordant’s craft rose up to join the line of ships, Jegger’s voice barked in John’s ears again. “You. Last cadet. Who are you?”
“John Riley, sir.”
“Go, John Riley.”
“I-I’m not sure this is a good idea,” John stammered.
“I don’t want to hear excuses. Get up there.”
“But I wasn’t here last—”
“Get flying, cadet.”
Sudden panic gripped John; the complete craziness of the situation hit him with full force. What was I thinking? I can’t fly a freaking spaceship, I’ve only ever ridden a bike before.
He jerked the control stick back. With a lurch, the front of the spaceship swung up until John was blinking at the distant ceiling. “Gaaah!” he yelped, his stomach twisting itself in knots.
“Gently! I said gently!” an exasperated Jegger bellowed in his ear.
John looked around for a way to escape. Sergeant Jegger glared at him from across the deck, as if he knew exactly what John was thinking and would stuff him back into the cockpit if he tried to get out. There was nothing else for it; he would have to try and fly the ship.
Squeezing his eyes shut, John pushed the stick away from him a little. The front of the t-dart dipped.
“Better. Now the flight button.”
Half opening one eye and reminding himself to breathe, John flicked the button on top of the control stick. The ship began to move forward.
“Keep the stick firm and fly to thirty metres. Join the line, keeping plenty of distance between you and the t-dart in front.”
The spaceship wobbled alarmingly ,as John’s hands trembled in their grip on the control stick. Gulping a deep lungful of air, he forced himself to relax. The ship stabilized. John moved the control stick slightly to the left, until he was moving towards the end of the line.
“I’m flying it,” he whispered through clenched teeth. I’m actually flying it.” The ship was rolling and tilting, but he was flying. Awesome.
“Thirty metres!” barked the voice in his ear, making John jump and the craft roll. Glancing at another panel that gave his altitude, John brought the little spaceship under control and managed to glide in, clumsily, behind Mordant and at the right height.
“All right,” said Jegger. “That was mostly terrible. Keep formation for a while, then we’ll try some simple manoeuvres.”
After a few minutes John felt like he was starting to get the hang of flying. The control stick was more sensitive than any video game he had ever played, but the craft was simple to fly and his t-dart flew smoother as his confidence increased. Looking down, he could see the tiny figure of Sergeant Jegger below, giving orders into a microphone. Around the hangar, ships began flipping, turning, and flying a little faster on his command. With a grin, John waved at Kaal as his t-dart shot by within a few metres and gave him a thumbs up.
“...John Riley,” said Jegger’s voice.
With a start, John realized he’d been too busy looking around and hadn’t been paying attention to the flight instructor’s voice.
“Execute manoeuvre,” came Jegger’s voice again.
Panicking, John’s eyes swept over the screens. He half-remembered Jegger saying something that sounded like axle. What was it?
Next to the power screen was a large panel with the words “Accelerate boost”. That must be it. John reached out for it as Jegger’s voice came again. “What are you waiting for, cadet? Give me an axle roll.”
It was too late to correct the mistake, John’s fingers were already touching the panel. Beneath him, engines roared suddenly. The ship leaped forward at a terrifying speed.
“What are you doing?” Jegger’s voice roared in his ears, “Slow down, slow down now! You’re going to hit the—”
John dragged the control stick back only a second before the t-dart crashed into the wall. The spaceship flipped and hurtled back in the opposite direction, with John now flying upside down. Ships scattered as students manoeuvred out of its path. He yanked the stick this way and that, trying to avoid them. Within seconds, the ship was rolling uncontrollably as it tore around the hangar.
Sergeant Jegger’s voice roared in his ears: “Get a grip, cadet. Pull back, pull back. Decrease speed.”
Not daring to take his eyes off the view ahead, John reached out and jabbed at the panels blindly, trying to slow down the t-dart while struggling with the control stick to bring it under control.
“Are you trying to kill yourself, you crazy rookie? Cut your speed NOW!”
Whatever John pressed made it worse. The ship plunged and spun wildly around the vast hangar. John felt his face freeze in terror. Another wall. He pulled the stick again, forcing the craft to flip once more. Now there was another t-dart directly in his path. John threw the stick forward, but it was too late. For a second he saw Kaal’s face, eyes staring and jaw moving as he shouted something. Then a huge crash — the sound of tearing metal.
Everything went black.
* * *
“It’s OK, he’s just stunned. Move back.”
Sergeant Jegger was above him, staring down coldly. “Kaal,” John gasped. “Is Kaal all right?”
His friend’s face moved into view above. “Fine,” Kaal grinned, showing off his impressive fangs. “These training ships have amazing safety features.”
“What happened up there?” demanded Jegger, pulling John roughly to his feet. “It was a simple manoeuvre.”
“I... uh... wasn’t—” John started. He was about to admit that he hadn’t been listening properly when Kaal interrupted.
“It’s his first day at Hyperspace High, sir. He’s never been on a spaceship before and he didn’t do the basic course last term.”
Jegger uttered what John thought must be a curse under his breath. The ship’s computer didn’t translate it. Glaring down at John, he snapped, “Is that what you were trying to tell me?”
John nodded, expecting the sergeant to react furiously. Instead, he looked John up and down, shook his head and said, “My fault, then. Report to me at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow. I’ll soon have you up to speed.”
“Yes, sir,” said John.
“Only not so much speed as today, eh?” Jegger’s mouth twitched at the corner.
Before John could reply, the chiming sound he had heard back in Ska’s Café rang again.
“Class dismissed!” barked the sergeant.
Chapter 7
John was in a gloomy mood and the next class didn’t lift it. Kaal and Emmie led him to a laboratory, where Professor Hispus, a four-armed teacher whose head looked like a snake’s, was waiting. The lesson was Advanced Life Form Biology, and John knew he was out of his depth before the professor had even finished the first sentence of his lecture.
Complex charts and symbols flashed across large screens hung around the room as John groaned quie
tly to himself. While the students around him took out ThinScreens and made notes, John tried to make himself look as small as possible in case the professor asked him a question. It didn’t work.
“You with the yellow hair next to Kaal, what is your name?” Hispus asked an hour into the lesson.
“John Riley,” John replied, sitting up straighter.
“I see you’re not taking notes, John Riley, so I can only suppose you must know all this already. Perhaps you could remind the class of the four major differences between the DNA structure of Elvians and Sillarans.”
“I’m sorry,” replied John. “It’s my first day and—”
“The Earthling’s as pathetic at biology as he is at flying t-darts,” Mordant whispered loudly. “Maybe they let him into the school to make Tarz look clever for a change.”
His hovering Serve-U-Droid spun, lights blinking, at his shoulder, “Yes, Master Talliver. Hyperspace High is supposed to be the most exclusive school in the galaxy. One wonders why the headmaster has allowed the primitive to become a student.”
John blushed. Emmie and Kaal both glared at the Mordant and his rude droid.
“That will do,” snapped the professor. “John Riley, see me after class for a reading list. It seems you have a lot to catch up on.”
Emmie and Kaal waited outside the door while Hispus gave John a short lecture on being properly prepared, as well as a long list of reading that he should complete before the next class. They looked at him pityingly as he came out a few minutes later, shaking his head. “I didn’t understand a single word,” he said glumly. “Talliver’s right: I’m pathetic.”
“Hey, it’s only your first day. You’ll catch up,” Kaal said cheerfully.
“And it’s lunch now,” added Emmie. “At least you can take a break.”
Lunch, however, was even more depressing. The first-year canteen was full of students noisily greeting each other after the holidays. John had to shout to make himself heard over the din. When he took a seat next to Kaal, a compartment slid from the table, serving a plate of foul-smelling purple cubes and a bowl of what looked like frogspawn. Rolling his eyes, John poked at the mess with the metal spike that was by his plate.
“Looks Martian to me!” shouted Kaal, peering over his shoulder. “The computer must still think you’re Prince Clo-Ra-Ta. On the plus side, Martian food’s supposed to be very good for you.”
“If you can keep it down,” mumbled John, spearing a purple cube and nibbling it cautiously. It tasted worse than it smelled. Determined to try and cheer up, he put it back in the bowl and yelled, “So what lesson am I going to be awful at next?”
“Plutonian martial arts,” replied Kaal, his mouth full of what looked like stew made from peeled worms. He winked. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
* * *
Two hours later, John staggered out of the padded gym, clutching his ribs. “I’m really, really sorry,” said Kaal behind him. “Got a bit carried away there. Don’t know my own strength.”
“It’s all right,” panted John. “I don’t mind being thrown clear across the room.” He paused, then added, “Seven times. I am so going to make you pay for that next time.”
Kaal’s teeth glinted. “It was fun, though, right?” he grinned, slapping John on the shoulder.
“Owww!” John yelped. “Don’t touch me. I’m one big bruise.”
After a lesson in early galactic history, which again left John with a long reading list and an aching head, the school day was finally over. Wearily, he dragged his stiff, hungry body down to the canteen to goggle with horrified disbelief when the table opened to reaveal exactly the same food he’d been given for lunch. Hoping it wasn’t poisonous, he tried the frogspawn this time, quickly spitting it back into the bowl.
“Yuck,” said Emmie Tarz, leaning across the table and wrinkling her nose at his meal. “You should talk to the computer about your food.”
“I’ll probably be dead from starvation by breakfast,” John grumbled in reply.
“I’ve got roasted falabird with skits and charn salad,” she replied. “It’s too much for me. Want to try some?”
John leaned over. The food on Emmie’s plate smelled better than his own and looked a little like roast turkey with beans the size of his thumb, and orange leaves. “If you’re sure you’ve got enough,” he gulped. “I don’t want you to go hungry, too.”
“Help yourself,” she said, smiling.
John spiked some of the falabird and put it in his mouth nervously. The meat was bitter, a long way from delicious, but far better than the Martian gloop in front of him. He swallowed and tried a skit. The large bean tasted like pasta. “Mmmm, thanks,” he said, chewing hungrily. “These aren’t too bad.”
“Do you want to try some of mine?” offered Kaal, who was crunching through a portion of what looked like stir-fried worms.
John quickly shook his head. Derrilian food looks even worse than Martian food, if that’s possible, John thought.
Pushing his tray away, Kaal sighed. “I’ve got that detention now,” he said. “Better go, I don’t want to upset the Examiners again. Can you find your own way back to the dormitory, John? Or you could hang out in the Centre.”
“I’d keep you company, but I’ve got singing practice and a heap of studying,” said Emmie apologetically as she stood up. “See you in the morning.”
“It’s OK, I’d better make a start on all this reading. I’ll make my own way back,” John groaned as his new friends hurried away.
Ten minutes later he was hopelessly lost. He couldn’t even remember his room number, let alone where the dormitory was. Exhausted and despairing, he padded down softly carpeted, empty corridors trying to find his way back to his room. Outside the viewing windows, the glories of the galaxy swept by but John was in no mood to admire the view. I’m never going to fit in here, he told himself.
The corridor suddenly echoed with a chiming sound. A voice said, “John Riley.”
John spun around. He was all alone in the dimly lit passage.
“Uh... yes?” he said. “Who’s there?”
“Ship’s computer. The headmaster gave me instructions to monitor Earth’s communications systems. You have received an email. Would you like to read it?”
“I guess so, but I don’t have a... what do you call them? ThinScreen?”
“That will not be a problem, John Riley.”
In the air before John’s eyes, an email appeared.
- - -
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: First Day
Hi John, your dad and I are dying to know about your first day at school. Let us know how it went if you have the time. We miss you already. The house is so quiet without you.
Sending all our love,
Mum
xx
PS: Your dad’s “borrowed” your games console. He says to tell you that he’s going to totally kick your butt at Doom Hammer by the time you get back.
- - -
John blinked back sudden tears. His parents were so far away. He hadn’t realized how much he was missing them, as well as everything else that he usually took for granted: other human beings, decent food, the sky above his head...
The computer interrupted his thoughts. “Would you like to send a reply?”
“Yes, please. How do I do that?”
A new email window opened in the space before him. “Dictate your message,” said the computer.
“Hi Mum—” John started, stopping in surprise as his words appeared in the air. After a few moments, he started again. “It’s been a really weird day. It’s like I’m trillion miles from home...” As homesickness welled up, he let all his feelings out, telling his parents how out of his depth he felt and that he was the most stupid student in the school. The only thing he left out was
that he was, in fact, trillions of miles away from Wortham Court, on a spaceship travelling among distant stars. “Love, John,” he finished eventually.
“Sending,” the computer told him.
A frown furrowed John’s forehead. “Could you tell me how to get back to my dormitory?” he asked.
“Of course. You are in dormitory sixteeen. There is a TravelTube at the end of this corridor that will take you straight there.”
“Thanks.” John walked on, silent for a few moments, but hearing a sympathetic voice – even if it belonged to a computer – made him want to talk. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said gloomily. “Us humans are too primitive...” he spat the word out, “...to belong in a place like this.”
“Perhaps some music might make you feel better,” murmured the computer.
A tune started playing in the background. It was a soothing track sung by a soft-voiced woman. John recognized it instantly. “That’s one of my mum’s favourites,” he said.
“Mine, too. Earth music is excellent,” the computer replied. “No species that can make such music could be described as ‘primitive’.”
“Well, I feel primitive. I’ll never catch up with the other students. Anyway, nobody wanted me here. It was just an accident.”
“Very little on Hyperspace High happens by accident,” the computer responded. “Sometimes it is difficult to understand the headmaster’s plans, but he dislikes accidents. As for catching up with the other students, I will help as much as I can.”
“That’s really kind of you,” John said. “Umm... you’re not a normal computer, are you? I’ve never heard of a computer that could have a proper conversation.”
“I am far more advanced than any computer on Earth,” said the computer with – John thought – a trace of pride in its voice. “I am built on a Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern.”
“A Zero-Electronic Thingummy What?”
“Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern. You might call it artificial intelligence,” replied the computer. “There are only a few of us in the universe. We were designed by the scholars of Kerallin to think, to understand, and to know, rather than to simply process information like most computers.”