by Zac Harrison
Sergeant Jegger’s voice came through the intercom. As if he was reading John’s mind, the flight instructor said, “You’re going to be fine, cadet. I’ll talk you through the approach. On my command, cut your speed...”
Following Jegger’s instructions closely, John brought the Privateer round for a run into Hyperspace High’s main hangar. Gritting his teeth, he flew dead centre through the bay door, checking over his shoulder that the Archivus Major ship was still behind him.
Landing two ships was tricky. As the little Privateer dragged the larger aircraft behind it, John felt like he was trying to pilot a whale. Bumping to the ground, John felt the distressed ship smack into the deck behind him.
“Not perfect, but good enough. Well done, cadet,” said Jegger. “Stand by for compression.”
Once the other students had also landed their ships, the massive bay door slid shut. As the hangar deck filled with air, several doors opened at once. The headmaster walked through one, Jegger at his side, both looking stern. A medical team came through another, while Examiners swarmed in from the rest. John had never seen so many Examiners in one place. Like the Omega-bots on Archivus Major, each robot immediately formed a protective ring around the mysterious ship.
John climbed out of his Privateer without taking his eyes off the craft he had just towed from deep space.
“Keep back,” said Lorem, as John walked towards it. He nodded at the headmaster and stepped back a pace or two. Kaal and Emmie fell in behind him, both gazing at the Archivus Major ship.
Its door opened with a hiss.
A short figure staggered onto the deck. “Help. P-p-p-lease help!” yelled Graximus Greyfore, reaching his stubby hands towards the headmaster. “I have been—”
“It was him!” John shouted. Unable to contain himself, he ran towards the curator. “He used us to sabotage the Goran–Subo battlefield.”
“He nearly got us all killed!” shouted Kaal, rushing forward to join his friend.
“Why did you give me the Comet Creative?” demanded Emmie. “Why did you want to free the Subo and Goran warriors?”
“What?” squealed Ms Vartexia. “What is everyone talking about?”
“John Riley, explain,” said Lorem quickly.
“Three days ago in the lecture hall Greyfore gave Emmie a camera – he called it the Comet Creative – and told Emmie to take photos of the Goran–Subo battlefield,” replied John. “But when she used it, the stasis cube melted and the Goran and Subo began fighting again.”
Surrounded by Examiners, Greyfore looked around in confusion. The whole class began talking, all trying to tell the story at once.
The headmaster clapped his hands. “Silence,” he said in a voice that could not be disobeyed. “Continue, John.”
John took a deep breath. Suddenly everything was becoming clear. “Headmaster,” he said. “When Graximus Greyfore visited Hyperspace High, he requested the Holo-registrations so that you would have to leave the room. While you were gone, he somehow made people do what he wanted in order for the Goran and Subo to be freed from stasis.”
“But I don’t understand. That couldn’t have happened. I just fell asleep for a little while,” said Ms Vartexia, sounding faint.
“It’s all true,” said John firmly. “Ask him,” he said, pointing at the curator again.
“Perhaps we should hear what Graximus Greyfore has to say.” Turning to the curator, the headmaster lifted an eyebrow. “Well, Greyfore?”
“I d-didn’t do a-anything,” stammered the little alien.
“You deliberately told me to eat the Elvian spaghetti at Optical Orbit, knowing it might keep me unconscious for hours,” said Ms Vartexia in a thoughtful voice. “Now that I think about it, that was strange. I don’t particularly like Elvian spaghetti, but it was as if I couldn’t see anything else on the menu. Once I started eating it, I just couldn’t stop.”
“And you made sure that Mordant Talliver knew the Vapourball Championship was being held nearby,” added Kaal.
Lorem’s purple eyes widened. “Of course, that meant I would have to go after him, leaving the rest of the students unprotected.”
Pausing for a moment, Lorem gave Graximus Greyfore a chilly stare. “With myself and Ms Vartexia unable to help, you made sure that once the Goran and Subo broke free from stasis, the class would be caught up in the battle. They would be killed, leaving no survivors to point the finger at you. Fortunately, it seems that my students were braver and more resourceful than you could have imagined. But how did you do it, Greyfore? And more importantly: why?”
At last the curator found his voice. “P-please listen,” he choked. “It-it wasn’t m-me.”
The shouting began again. Lorem held up his hand, a strange look on his face. “Go on,” he said. “I could sense that something was going to happen on Archivus Major, but my visions of the future are sometimes... unclear.”
“It w-w-wasn’t me,” Graximus Greyfore insisted, his voice sounding a little steadier. “None of it.” The curator took a deep breath. “I was on my way to Hyperspace High when my ship was hijacked by a Subo craft. Before I could call for help, a Subo came aboard. He called himself Supretus VI and used a machine he had developed – an Xogram Impersonator – to take a sample of my DNA.”
“An Xogram Impersonator,” whispered Lorem. “But DNA-modifying technology is forbidden throughout the galaxy.”
“Then... th-then...” Greyfore stuttered to a stop, a look of horror crossing his blotched face.
“And then?” the headmaster prompted.
“And then he turned into me. R-r-right in front of my eyes.”
“So, you’re saying that the Graximus Greyfore who came here was an impostor?” Lorem looked doubtful.
The curator nodded eagerly. “Yes. Not me at all,” he babbled.
“But why? Why go to all that trouble?”
“Supretus is a direct descendant of General Klort. For thirty thousand years his family has seen it as a dishonour that she was denied a victory over the Goran. He wanted to free his ancestor and restart the war. Supretus had a small hypnosis device that fitted into the palm of his hand. He bragged to me that when he touched someone with it, they would do whatever he suggested.”
“What a load of nonsense.”
A gasp ran around the hangar deck. Standing in the doorway of the Archivus Major ship was another Graximus Greyfore. This one was holding his head as if he was in pain. As everyone watched, he raised a hand and pointed to the first Greyfore, standing before the headmaster.
“It was him!” the new Greyfore said in a much deeper voice. “He is Supretus. He kidnapped me. I was tied up for days but I managed to free myself, disable the ship, and set off the distress beacon. In his rage, he knocked me unconscious.”
The first Greyfore stamped his foot in fury. “L-l-liar!” he screamed. “You imprisoned me in my own sh-ship while you impersonated me in H-hyperspace High! Th-thank g-goodness that when you returned, I m-m-managed to overpower you and stopped you from getting back to Suboran. I don’t know h-h-how much longer I could have m-m-managed if no one had answered my distress b-beacon.”
“You are the liar. If I hadn’t stopped you—”
“Enough,” commanded Lorem, holding up his hand. “There is an easy way to settle this. Examiners.”
“Wai—”
The second Greyfore’s shout was silenced as Examiners moved forward. Green light flickered. Both curators were immediately held fast in a force field.
Red beams scanned the two short aliens.
“DNA scan complete. Identified. Graximus Greyfore of planet Dorfius t-Char. Head Curator of Archivus Major,” droned one of the white robots.
“Unidentified Subo. DNA modified. Reverting,” droned another.
John stared. Around him, students took a step back. Ms Vartexia yelped in shock.
; Where the second Greyfore had been standing was suddenly a Subo. Surrounded by a green haze, it could not move but still looked as fearsome as its ancient cousins had on Archivus Major. Its mouth, lined with sharp teeth, was open wide and its laser-horn was lowered, ready to fire a deadly blast.
A green light flashed. The Subo roared in frustrated rage. “Suboran should have won the war!” he raged in a deep voice. “Klort was robbed of victory. The Subo are the rightful rulers of the galaxy.”
“Enough of this madness,” said Lorem quietly.
A green light flickered again. The Subo was silenced.
“Intergalactic code violation,” droned one of the Examiners. “Supretus VI, you impersonated Graximus Greyfore to start a war. You placed Hyperspace High students’ lives in danger. Punishment: expulsion.”
John’s remembered the same punishment had been given to him upon his arrival at Hyperspace High. He also remembered what happened next.
“Proceed to airlock three.”
A door opened. The Examiners’ force field effortlessly lifted the Subo from the ground. The creature floated across the deck and disappeared inside the airlock.
“Expulsion code eight five six three,” droned the Examiner.
“Decompression in five seconds,” replied a deeper voice. “Four... three... two... one.”
The last time John had heard these words, it had been him in the airlock. Then, Lorem had intervened at the last second. Now, the headmaster stood perfectly still, his face stoney.
Underneath the calm, he’s angry, John thought to himself. Absolutely furious.
Horrified and fascinated at the same time, John watched through the airlock’s small window. He heard a faint hiss, followed by a rushing sound as the oxygen in the airlock was snatched out into space.
With it went the screaming Subo, its scream dying as it disappeared into the void.
Chapter 16
“O-oh m-my... This is a-awful. T-truly awful.”
With effort, John tore his gaze from the little window of black space he could see through the airlock door. Graximus Greyfore was shaking, tears of black liquid running down his face. “I-I am s-so glad that your students escaped Archivus Major. B-but this is s-still a disaster.”
“Calm yourself, Graximus,” said Lorem gently, bending to lay a hand on the small alien’s shoulder.
Greyfore shook it off. “How can I calm myself?” he wailed. “I managed to knock Supretus out and send a distress call, but it’s too late. The Subo and Goran will be r-ripping Archivus Major apart by now. The Omega-bots will not be able to stop them. The greatest museum c-collection ever seen will be gone. The work of fifty thousand years destroyed. W-we must be grateful that your students survived, but—”
“But nothing,” said John. “The plan failed.”
“F-failed?” Greyfore looked up, hope in his eyes.
John stepped forward. “Yes,” he said. “Luckily Kaal is an expert with technology. He managed to reverse the process. The battlefield is just how it was when we arrived. Everything on Archivus Major is fine.”
“It’s s-s-safe? The planet is safe?” Greyfore seemed unable to believe it for a few moments. Then he beamed at the students. “Oh, but that is wonderful. Th-thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my third stomach.”
“You’re welcome.”
While Greyfore spoke, the headmaster looked around, watching as the students exchanged looks that told him John had skimmed over a lot of the story. Now he cleared his throat.
“Excuse me,” Lorem said. “As I only arrived back from Plarz with Mordant Talliver a few moments ago—”
“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, headmaster,” Ms Vartexia cut in. “Really I am. But would someone please tell me what happened on Archivus Major?”
“Exactly what I was going to say, Ms Vartexia,” echoed Lorem. “I understand that Supretus gave a device to Emmie Tarz that would dissolve the battleground stasis cube, but how did you manage to stop the warriors escaping?”
Feeling everyone looking at him, John blushed and shuffled. “Errr,” he started. “Like I said, it was Kaal. He fixed it.”
“The whole story, please, John. Start at the beginning.”
With many interruptions from the rest of the class, John finished the tale. At the end, Lorem looked as calm as ever. Only his voice betrayed how much the story had affected him: how concerned he was that the class had been in such terrible danger.
“Thank you, John,” he said quietly. “And thank you, too, Kaal and Emmie. You may never know what a great service you have done for the galaxy. I shudder to think what might have happened if you had not managed to put the Subo and Goran back into the stasis cube. Very likely the war would have spread, once again, across the galaxy. You may have saved countless lives and civilizations.”
The headmaster paused, then continued sorrowfully. “I made an error. I knew that something important would happen on Archivus Major, but in my visions I saw only that Hyperspace High pupils would be involved. I failed to see that ‘Greyfore’ was not who he appeared to be.” He shook his head. “It is fortunate that my error did not have fatal consequences.”
“Headmaster, I d-d-don’t know how I can ever repay your students,” the real Greyfore cut in. “But could I just say that any visitors from Hyperspace High will always be welcome on Archivus Major. The m-m-museum is at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Graximus. I think our students should remain on-board for some time, though. Whenever they leave the ship, they seem to become involved in a life or death adventure! It may be some time before I allow them to leave my sight again.”
The class groaned.
“Can’t we go back? I got stuck looking after Ms Vartexia all day and I really wanted to visit the Gormib the Reaper exhibition.” Bareon caught a sharp glance from the blue-skinned teacher. “Not that looking after Ms Vartexia was a problem,” he muttered.
“Plus the first day, all we got to see was moss and rocks and rubbish paintings,” said Queenlin.
The headmaster clapped his hands together, his cheerful smile restored. “The very least I can do is award the entire class extra marks.” He winked at Emmie.
Emmie punched the air. “Yesss,” she hissed.
“What about Mordant?” Lishtig interrupted.
“I found Mordant on Plarz,” Lorem said gravely. “At the moment he is confined to his dormitory with an Examiner outside the door. I was planning to expel him, but this information sheds new light on the matter. Since his actions were influenced by Supretus, I see no reason why he should be punished. In fact, I will order a special screening of the Vapourball Championship highlights in the 4-D cinema. All of you are welcome to join him there.”
The headmaster raised his voice, as the class began asking more questions. “No lessons for the rest of the day, and perhaps a day off tomorrow would also be in order,” he announced, to further cheers. “Now, you should all get back to your rooms and get some rest.” As the class filed towards the TravelTube, with only Greyfore and the teachers remaining behind, Lorem stopped John, Emmie, and Kaal. “Once again, it seems I owe the three of you special thanks,” he said in a low voice. “Hyperspace High is fortunate to have three such brave students.”
“Thanks, sir, but it was nothing really,” John mumbled, embarrassed.
Kaal shrugged. “It was exciting in a nearly-getting-killed sort of way.”
“And totally worth it for the extra marks,” Emmie said, grinning.
“There is one last thing,” the headmaster continued, holding out his hand. I will take the Comet Creative, please. It sounds like for all his crimes, Supretus was something of a genius with technology. Perhaps the scholars of Kerallin can find a more peaceful purpose for the device.”
Graximus Greyfore leaned in as Lorem took the Comet Creative from Kaal’s hand. “Such a small thing,” he murm
ured. “Yet with the potential to cause such an enormous amount of d-d-damage.”
“Indeed, Graximus,” the headmaster replied. “Don’t worry, we shall keep it very safe.”
“Now I-I-I must g-get going,” said Greyfore. “I want to check the b-b-battlefield exhibit thoroughly. In the meantime, please accept my thanks once again. If there is anything else I can do to repay any of you, please, please do not hesitate to let me know.”
“Actually,” said Kaal, as the curator turned to go. “There is something. My dad’s been longing to visit Archivus Major for years, but the waiting list—”
Greyfore waved a stubby hand. “For your father, there is no waiting list. He will have an invitation as soon as I arrive back. Will a week be long enough for him? No, better make it a fortnight. And every night the best dinner that Optical Orbit can provide.” With a final wave, he disappeared into his ship.
“Now, I know that Mister Riley here dislikes sleeping, except in class,” said the headmaster with a smile, “so I won’t tell you to go and rest. But go and relax at least. Try not to get in any trouble.”
* * *
“I’m starving,” said Kaal, as they walked along a corridor towards the dormitories. “Anyone fancy a trip to the Centre? Maybe we could get into Seefood while the rest of the school is still in class.”
Emmie looked at him as if he were mad. “Hello,” she said. “I’m covered in filth. It’s going to take me a day at least to get all the mud out of my hair. There is no way I am going out in public.”
“Tsh, you look fine. John’s worse.”
“Yeah, well some of us spent half the day face down in the mud, not flitting around the sky,” said John quickly, shocked at the idea of going back to the eyeball restaurant. Silently, he thanked his stars that Emmie had given him an excuse. “A bath’s a really good idea. I mean, look at the state of me.” He brushed his muddy SecondSkin suit, frowning as his hand passed over a bump in the pocket. Reaching in, he picked out the Goran claw tip. “Oh, I’d forgotten about this,” he said, turning it over in his hand. It was about the size of an arrowhead and deep red.