Authors: Zac Harrison
“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 murmured. “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.
“Hey, you’re the only person in the universe to ever take a piece of an Archivus Major exhibit off the planet,” Kaal told him. “It’s strictly forbidden. You’re lucky an Omega-bot didn’t catch you.”
“
Lucky
?
” said John. “I guess I am. Lucky to have such great friends. If it wasn’t for you two, I’d be dead by now.”
Emmie rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to make a big deal out of it, are you?” she asked. “I mean, we could both say the same about
you
and if we all start, it’ll end up with hugging and, to be honest, you’re
both
dirty and smelly. I really don’t want to be hugging either of you right now.”
Kaal and John grinned. “Aww, come on, Emmie. Give us a hug,” the big Derrilian chuckled.
“Oh,
all right
,” she laughed back, flinging her arms around him. “As you did save my life.
Again
. You, too, John,” she added, throwing her arms around him, too.
“Umm, thanks. You were pretty cool, too,” John said, blushing as Emmie squeezed him tight. “Good throwing arm.”
“Ugh, now I
really
need a bath,” Emmie answered, breaking her hug and looking down at the extra dirt that had transferred to her from John. Smiling once more over her shoulder, Emmie disappeared into her room.
* * *
Half an hour later, John was sitting in his bed pod, absentmindedly turning the Goran claw tip over in his hand while Zepp connected to Earth’s internet. By now, he was clean, his still-wet hair slicked back from his head, skin slightly pink from the heat of the bathwater.
“Hello, dear,” said his mother suddenly.
John looked up to see his mum and dad smiling at him from the ThinScreen.
“Good grief, our son’s been taken by aliens,” his dad exclaimed.
John froze.
How could he know? How could he possibly know?
“And they’ve managed to clean him! Look how shiny he is. Their technology must be far more advanced than ours.”
John felt his shoulders relax. “Hi, Dad,” he replied. “Just got out of the bath. Me and Carl were mucking around outside, playing rugby. Got a bit muddy.”
“How was the museum trip?” his mother asked.
“It was OK, lots of old paintings and rocks and stuff like that.”
“What’s that you’re holding?” his dad asked, suddenly, leaning in as if he could peer down the webcam.
John looked at his hand. His heart began to pound. He’d forgotten to put the Goran claw back in his pocket.
Oh rats.
“Umm,” he said, his mind blank. “It’s an errr... ahh...” A flash of inspiration hit him. “It’s from cookery class – you know, the ‘frying’ lessons,” he babbled, holding up the piece of alien claw. “We made lobster. I saved a piece of claw.”
His mother and father looked shocked. “You cooked
lobster
in your cookery lesson?” his mum gasped. “
Lobster
?
”
John nodded.
“Wow, that school really
is
amazing,” whispered his mum.
“Yeah, it really is out of this world,” said John with a grin.
...for a sneak peek of the next Hyperspace High adventure.
Walking into Hyperspace High’s main lecture hall, John Riley thought for a moment that the colossal ship had vanished around him. As he sat down on a nearby HoloStool, the awesome virtual reality effect of the walls and floor showed the starry heavens scrolling past in perfect 3-D. The black depths of space surrounded the students, dotted with occasional planets and stars. It almost felt as if John could reach out and touch them. However much time he spent on this ship, John never failed to be impressed by his school’s technology.
Every single student at Hyperspace High seemed to be in the hall. Students were still crowding in, no two of them alike. They waddled, crawled, fluttered, shuffled, drifted above the ground, or stalked on long, sucker-toed legs.
“Excuse me, human. Can I just squeeze past?”
John looked up at a three-metre blue slug. “Erm... sure,” John said, with a nervous grin. He drew his legs up on to his MorphSeat and gave the creature as much room as he could. The MorphSeat obligingly changed shape, adapting to his body.
The blue slug squidged past, making a noise like a rubber boot being sucked into mud. It settled itself across two empty MorphSeats with a contented sigh. The seats morphed together into a sort of banana-shaped couch, holding the alien comfortably.
“Thanks,” it gurgled.
“No problem,” John said, smiling despite his disappointment. He’d been secretly saving those seats for his best friends, Emmie and Kaal. But they were nowhere to be seen in the crowd.
More students pressed past John, looking for the few remaining seats – first a greenish, pear-like being with a mouthful of jagged teeth, then something like a round lava lamp that trundled past on tank tracks. John couldn’t help staring in amazement at them. They were just so
alien
. No, he corrected himself, not
alien
. Just very different to human beings. Even after the weeks he’d spent at Hyperspace High, he still wasn’t completely used to it. All those years he’d spent growing up on Earth, wondering if there might be extraterrestrial life somewhere out among the stars... and now here he was, with alien life shoving, elbowing and – well –
tentacling
him as it crowded past.
Life at a boarding school in England would have been a lot less interesting. If he hadn’t overslept that fateful morning, jumped onto a suspiciously high-tech coach, and accidentally ended up on Hyperspace High in place of a Martian prince, he’d be there now. Of course, his parents thought he
was
there now, which made talking to them about school a bit awkward.
There must be at least a thousand students here
, John thought. He could count heads – but that wouldn’t be much help, since not all of the students had a head, and some had several. At any rate, there were
far
more students here than there had been at his old school. What’s more, they all seemed excited, as if they were expecting something. Voices babbled away on all sides. John felt left out. Nobody had bothered to tell him why they were all gathered in this lecture at midday. And he was surprised Kaal and Emmie hadn’t come to find him here – they would have told him what was going on. It wasn’t a normal assembly, he was sure of that much.
He tried to listen to what the other students were saying and managed to catch a few words:
“...stomped the Powanator completely flat!”
“Yeah, but then Rippertron pulled its leg off. Not much of a Stomper with only one leg, was it?”
John desperately wanted to ask what they were talking about, but he stopped himself. Plenty of the students already thought he was a “primitive Earthling” who didn’t know anything. The last thing he wanted to do was prove them right. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to find out. With a
wheeze-STOMP, wheeze-STOMP
of mechanical limbs, Master Tronic came hulking onto the stage.
Master Tronic wasn’t just the technology teacher – he himself was a walking, talking technology lesson. He liked to rebuild his body depending on what he was teaching the students. John rubbed his elbow as he remembered the time Master Tronic had taken the form of a kinetic force cannon to teach them about particle collisions. The rapid-fire zero-G tennis ball barrage had got a bit out of hand, and his elbow felt sore just remembering the accident...
Today, Master Tronic was a robot. His upper body was huge and ape-like, armoured with metal plates and strung with cables, while below his legs ended in two gigantic saucer-shaped feet. He swung his metal skull from left to right, glowering at the students.
John swallowed hard.
Did this mean trouble?
Master Tronic began to speak. With each word, a narrow band of red light throbbed in his skull. His deep electronic voice boomed through the hall. “I am delighted to announce this year’s Robot Warriors’ contest.”
A hush fell over the hall. John glanced around and saw all the students excitedly taking notes, whispering to one another, and fidgeting in giddy excitement. Obviously, they all knew what a Robot Warriors’ contest was and couldn’t wait to get started. John guessed he must be the only student in the whole school who had no idea what it was all about. Even so, he had to admit that it sounded cool.
“The rules of the contest,” rumbled Master Tronic, “are exactly the same as last year − and indeed every year.”
John’s heart sank. He had no idea of the rules and dreaded the thought of asking for help, without his friends nearby to tell him.
“However,” Master Tronic continued, “I shall go over the rules once again for our first years’ benefit. There is NO EXCUSE FOR FORGETTING THEM.”
Suddenly, John felt a lot better.
“Each student is to build his or her own robot, and these robots will go on to compete against each other in a series of trials. The trials change every year, but students will not be told what they are ahead of time. However, I can tell you this.” Master Tronic leaned forward. “Brute strength alone will NOT be enough to win!”
“Says the teacher built like a battle droid,” the slug whispered to John.
“Tomorrow has been chosen as Robot-Building Day. All other lessons have been cancelled. Instead, you will spend tomorrow designing and building your robots!”
Wild cheers broke out in the hall. Master Tronic waved his hands for calm.
John alone wasn’t cheering. He was staring ahead, open-mouthed.
One day?
He had only ONE DAY to design and build a robot?
“As always, the rule is one robot per student. No team entries are allowed, and every student is expected to participate.”
Including me
, John thought. The thought was terrifying and exciting at the same time.
“The first rounds will be held the day after tomorrow,” Master Tronic continued. “Then, the next day, the semi-finals and final will take place, and the winner will be crowned Robot Warrior champion of the year!” He paused. “And although luck is a superstitious concept that has no place in a technology class... good luck!”
The students left the hall in a chattering rush. John wandered through the Centre, still burning with questions about the contest. Everywhere he looked, from the seats by the rippling lake to the starlit balconies under the great dome, students were talking eagerly about robots and nothing else. It was as if the entire school had gone robot mad! John shook his head and kept looking for his friends.
He finally found Kaal and Emmie sitting at a table in Ska’s Caf
é
, in a far corner where the black walls swirled with nebular patterns. Kaal, John’s room-mate from the planet Derril, had crammed his huge, green demon-like body behind the table, as if he was hiding behind it. Beside him, the beautiful Sillaran, Emmie, was waving excitedly. The most human-looking of any of the other pupils on Hyperspace High, Emmie’s faintly golden skin shone and her navy-blue eyes twinkled as she beckoned John over.
John navigated past tables crowded with feathered and diamond-scaled beings, tables where students were already building little model robots out of drinking straws and alien cutlery.
Emmie pushed back her chair and bounded up to him, her gleaming, silver hair trailing like rocket exhaust. “Can you believe it? It’s Robot Warriors time already! What are you going to make? Have you decided yet?”
“I’m... er... still at the design stage,” John blustered.
“Smart move!” croaked Gyrim Florm, a frog-like, midnight-black third year with a white mohawk of hair and a silver kilt who was sat at the next table over. “Check out the competition first, THEN decide!”
“I’m going to build Thunderbolt Three,” said his companion Bosquip, who was mostly tentacles and a single goggling eye. “Loads of armour and an electron ram. Like last year’s robot – only better.”
“Thats what you said last year,” Gyrim pointed out. “When you built Thunderbolt Two, and it exploded.”
“It still lasted longer than Thunderbolt One,” Bosquip said stubbornly.
“Which holds the record for the shortest-lived robot in the history of the contest,” Emmie said brightly.
“What happened?” John had to ask.
Gyrim hesitated. “It aimed, it fired... and it blew a great big hole in the hull.
Whoosh
, it got sucked out into space. Lasted three whole seconds.”
“Three
glorious
seconds!” sighed Bosquip, quivering his tentacles dramatically. Everyone laughed, even John.
A robo-waiter glided over to them, bringing a transparent tray with three tall purple glasses.
“Brucko juices are on me,” Emmie said. “Good luck, everyone!”
As the three of them leaned in to slurp at their drinks, John said in a low voice to Emmie and Kaal, “What’s the big deal with this contest, anyway? Everyone’s going barmy over it.”
Emmie’s blue eyes went very wide. “You don’t know?”
“Of course he doesn’t know,” Kaal whispered. “He’s
new.
”
John sucked at his Brucko juice. His mouth flooded with amazing flavour – sweet and zingy at the same time, like plum and cherry syrup with exploding pop rocks in it.
“Suck the bubbles up,” Emmie told him. “They’re chewy.”
John chased bubbles around with his straw while Kaal did his best to explain the contest.
“Winning the Robot Warriors’ contest is basically a shortcut to being king or queen of the school,” he said. “You get major respect from all the students. Everyone wants to be your friend. And there’s a prize.”
“The prize is always
epic,
” said Emmie, through a mouthful of bubbles. “Here, check out Quondass val Haq,” said Kaal. “He won the contest last year. Now look at him.”
Quondass was a scaly bodied student with a round belly and fangs like broom handles that jutted from his lower lip. He reminded John of a troll figure he’d once painted for a war game. As usual, Quondass had his fan club around him, a gang of adoring students who kept his table supplied with drinks and snacks. As John watched, the whole group laughed loudly at the same time.
“His jokes aren’t even funny,” Emmie said, “but they all laugh anyway.”
Aha!
John thought.
That explains why he’s so popular!
Well, it couldn’t have been for his looks...
“So they still think he’s awesome, even a year later?”
“Oh, yeah,” Emmie breathed. “You see, his prize was a private gig by Neutron Decay, the heaviest heavy rock band in the galaxy! All those fans of his are students he put on the guest list!”
“Wow,” John said. “So what’s this year’s prize?”
“Nobody knows,” Kaal said. “But the funny thing is – it’s always something the winner really wants. As if
someone
knew who would win, before the contest even started!”
John and Emmie looked at one another. “Lorem,” they said at the same time. Lorem, Hyperspace High’s headmaster, had an ability to see into the future.
“So what would you want to be the prize if you won, Emmie?” Kaal asked, finishing his Brucko juice with a loud slurp.
“A new model Flitter X5000,” Emmie answered instantly.
“What’s wrong with your old one?” John joked. Emmie had shown him clips of her flying her little personal ship back home on Sillar, weaving in between trees at dangerous speeds.
“Nothing’s
wrong
with it. It just doesn’t have the cool lights on the underneath, or the turbo button, or the underwater cruising mode... So, what would
you
want the prize to be, Kaal?”
“Nothing much,” Kaal said mildly. “Just a trip home at half-term. I know we get to go back at the end of term, but—
”
“
But
the poor Derrilian is all homesick,” sneered a familiar arrogant voice. “What’s the matter, Kaal? Missing your mummy?”
Mordant Talliver had crept up behind them. Above his shoulder hovered his constant companion and only friend, the cricket-ball-sized droid, G-Vez.
“Oh, that was a good one, master,” it chirped.
Mordant’s yellow eyes gleamed as the black rubbery tentacles that grew from his ribcage rubbed together in delight. The half-Gargon never missed an opportunity to bully his classmates, and his silver drone was always quick to praise his efforts.