Frozen Enemies Read online

  The door slid closed again. “And again: wowsers,” John whispered to himself as he looked forward. From outside, the Xi-Class Privateer had looked like it was made from solid, polished stone. Now, the shell was clear. He had a perfect view of the hangar. Sergeant Jegger stood a few metres away, adjusting his headset.

  “All right, cadets. The first thing you’ll have noticed is that there’s no control panel in front of you.” The sergeant’s voice sounded in John’s cockpit, although he couldn’t see any speakers. “The Xi-Class Privateer is piloted using a mixture of voice commands and the controls on the pilot’s seat.”

  John looked down. Sure enough, there were touchpads glowing green at his fingertips.

  “Charts, maps, and any other information you need will appear directly on the ship’s Formalite skin,” Jegger continued. “Try it. Ask for your home planet.”

  “Earth,” said John.

  An image of planet Earth appeared in the curved shell, slightly to the right of John’s vision. He felt a tiny pang of homesickness. “Set course for Earth?” asked a confident male voice.

  “Errr, no. No, thanks,” he said quickly.

  Further conversation with the Privateer’s computer was cut off by Jegger’s voice again. “The computer will take care of long-distance navigation, but you’ll need to pilot for take-off and landing and know some basic emergency manoeuvres. Speed is at your left hand, direction is at your right hand...”

  As the sergeant explained how the craft worked, John listened carefully. He’d become quite good at flying, but his first-ever attempt at piloting a t-dart had been a disaster, as he had ended up crashing into Kaal. Since then, he’d been taking extra lessons and had even saved his classmates’ lives by flying an old shuttle off the exploding volcanic planet of Zirion Beta. Learning to fly a completely new type of ship, however, was still nerve-shredding.

  “It can take some getting used to, and there’s only one way to do that,” Jegger told the students. “On my go, tell your computer to disengage docking locks, start engines, and display speed. Take your craft up slowly and circle the hangar at twenty kilometres per hour. Tarz. You first. Go.”

  As John expected, the first ship took off smoothly. Emmie was a natural-born pilot, who had an instinctive understanding of flying. For this reason, Jegger often chose her to demonstrate new moves or tactics. Emmie usually showed the rest of the class that whatever Jegger had asked of them wasn’t impossible, no matter how difficult.

  “Talliver. Go.”

  The second Privateer took off with a barely perceptible wobble. John had to admit that Mordant was as talented at flying as he was at everything else, apart from making friends. As he waited for his own turn, John wondered if that was the reason why Mordant’s parents had given him G-Vez. No one except the Serv-U-Droid was ever willing to spend more than a few minutes with the half-Gargon.

  “Riley. Go.”

  John’s fingertips trembled on the touchpads. Keeping his voice as calm as possible, he said, “Computer, disengage docking locks, start engines, and display speed.”

  “Affirmative. Ready to launch, John Riley.” A large digit of zero appeared in the shell to the left of John’s vision.

  Following Jegger’s advice, and still biting hard on his bottom lip, John moved the index finger of his right hand. The ship rocked backward so that John was looking up to where the other two Privateers were already circling the hangar. He moved his left index finger, and the ship rose into the air. The number zero flickered until it reached thirty-five. John eased off on the speed button.

  It wasn’t perfect – his trembling fingers meant the Privateer’s take-off was less smooth than Emmie’s – but a few seconds later his ship joined the other airborne Privateers.

  “Not completely awful,” said Jegger. “San-Art. Go.”

  Once every ship was zooming around the ceiling of the hangar, the sergeant began giving instructions for manoeuvres. Before long, the egg-shaped ships were swooping around the hangar as the students’ confidence increased. Jegger kept up a constant stream of comments: “Werril, you can go a little faster than that, cadet. What are you: a little old Wussian with some heavy shopping? Temerate, make your ship lean into the turns. Talliver, stop showing off!”

  The last comment had barely registered, when Mordant’s Privateer suddenly sped dangerously close to John’s. Mordant’s face leered at John for a moment, then his ship accelerated away to the far end of the hangar. Shaken, John’s fingers slipped on the touchpad, sending his own Privateer spiralling off wildly.

  Seething with anger, John brought his ship back under control. For a second he caught himself wishing the Privateer had weapons that he could use to shoot down the half-Gargon. Fighting down the urge to give chase, and cursing under his breath, John returned to flying up and down the hangar, concentrating instead on getting used to the Privateer’s controls.

  “Lishtig ar Steero!” Jegger shouted. “Why are you flying upside down? For goodness’ sake, boy, stop. That’s good – now use the right-hand control pad... the right... to flip. No, not all the way round, now you’re upside down again—”

  As Jegger tried to right Lishtig’s ship, John executed a neat turn and zoomed off down the hangar again. He frowned. Mordant Talliver was once again heading directly towards him. John touched the control pad to swerve away. His mouth fell open as the Talliver’s ship mirrored the move. With Jegger’s attention elsewhere, Mordant was playing chicken with him.

  Desperately, John moved his fingers on the unfamiliar control pads, trying to get out of the way. His Privateer turned, skimming centimetres past Mordant’s ship just in time to avoid a crash. From the corner of his eye, John saw Mordant grinning and making a rude gesture with his tentacles. Suddenly, Emmie’s ship was right in front of his own. Mordant had forced him to fly straight into her!

  For a split second, John saw Emmie staring at him, mouth moving in a shout of warning, eyes wide in shock.

  “Riley. Riley. What in Trud’s name are you doing?” yelled Jegger, as John’s ship smashed into Emmie’s, then tumbled towards the deck.

  Emmie recovered quickly; her ship flew off unharmed. John struggled to regain control, but the fall was too quick. His ship smacked into the deck like a dropped stone, bounced, and rolled into a corner of the hangar. Although the Privateer’s seat and safety harness softened the landing, John felt like he was in a washing machine. But worse was the shame, as he realized that once again he’d crashed a ship on Jegger’s deck. Screwing his eyes closed, he let out a loud groan.

  By the time he opened them again, Emmie and Kaal’s Privateers hovered a few metres away. His friends peered down at him, concern on their faces. Jegger was still bellowing into his headset. “Riley, report. Report now! Are you all right, boy? If you’ve damaged that ship, I’ll have you scrubbing the entire deck with a toothbrush.”

  “Sorry, sir,” John replied at last, his voice shaking with shock and anger. Knowing that if he told the truth, it would look like he was trying to shift the blame, he continued, “I must have been going too fast.”

  “Do you think so, Riley?” Jegger shouted, stomping across the deck on his three legs. His face was bright red and his moustache bristling. “I thought you were shaping up to be a good pilot, but it turns out you’re just a speed demon looking for thrills. Well, not in my ships, Riley. And not on my hangar deck.”

  The tongue-lashing lasted several minutes, by which time the whole class had lowered their Privateers. Cheeks burning, John tried not to look at Mordant, wearing a grin so wide, it looked like the top of his head might flip off.

  Eventually, the sergeant calmed down enough to give orders again. “Line up,” he told the class. “As some of you obviously want to crash every single one of my ships, the rest of the lesson will be devoted to emergency landings,” he croaked, voice ragged from shouting.

  “Safety Code Violation.”


  Every head swung around.

  At the far end of the hangar a hovering shape was framed in the doorway of the TravelTube. Completely white, it looked like a white ball on top of a larger egg. Blank-faced, and with no trace of emotion in its electronic voice, the Examiner somehow managed to seem threatening. Even Sergeant Jegger was silent as the machine floated forward. “John Riley,” the Examiner continued, making itself heard inside every Privateer, “you have failed to acquire the minimum flight competency required for the Archivus Major field trip.”

  John gulped.

  “Your status is under review. Failure will result in the cancellation of your participation.”

  “Errr... what?” John asked, still shaken by his crash and not following what the white machine was telling him.

  “You crashed, John Riley. Now you must be examined,” the machine said, floating back towards the TravelTube. “On the morning of the trip to Archivus Major your flight skills will be tested. If you fail, you will be kept behind.”

  Chapter 3

  Sprawled across a deep, black sofa in the dormitory room he shared with Kaal, John stared moodily at a large entertainment ThinScreen. He was trying to watch a Sillaran show called Black Star 360 but couldn’t understand the plot. It involved a Sillaran woman dressed in black, flying around the galaxy trying to find the Holy Chalice of P’rawn and killing lots of aliens along the way. Why she was looking for the chalice and what the aliens had done to upset her wasn’t explained. No matter how hard John tried to concentrate, his thoughts kept returning to his earlier crash.

  The Examiners were notoriously harsh; it wouldn’t be easy to get through any test they set. John was certain he’d messed up his chances of seeing the museum planet.

  With a sigh, he looked around his room for something to take his mind off the problem. Outside the floor-to-ceiling viewing window, stars streamed by as Hyperspace High powered its way through the galaxy. It was a sight of incredible beauty, but John’s gaze moved onto the long desk against the opposite wall. There, two ThinScreens were currently switched off. He thought about making a start on the extra work that Ms Vartexia had set him, but decided he wasn’t in the mood.

  Next to the desk was a door to the bathroom, which contained a jet bath the size of a small swimming pool. No. If I have a bath, I’ll get into my pyjamas and it’s way too early for that, John thought, feeling sorry for himself.

  His gaze rested on his bed pod. There was one at either end of the room. The pods also had food and drink portals and another entertainment ThinScreen that John used when he didn’t want to disturb Kaal.

  Remembering the twinge of homesickness he had felt when the Privateer showed him an image of Earth, John made a decision.

  “I’ll call Mum and Dad,” he said to empty air. “That will cheer me up.”

  “Will you be wanting to make a Skype call?” asked a deep, friendly-sounding voice.

  “Oh, hi, Zepp. Yeah, that would be great. Could you please set it up?”

  “As always, it will be a pleasure. But you know the rules, you’ll have to get changed.”

  “Sure.” John crossed to his locker and pressed a hand to the pad that opened it. Pulling off the red and silver Hyperspace High uniform he was wearing, he picked out a plain white T-shirt and jeans. When Lorem had invited him to remain on the ship as a student, he had made it clear that John’s parents could never know that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be – at Wortham Court boarding school in Derbyshire.

  “Ready.” John sat cross-legged on his bed and checked behind him to make sure that nothing would be visible to his parents except a plain white wall.

  The ThinScreen flicked on, showing the Skype homepage. Zepp had already patched into Earth’s internet hundreds of light years away and placed the call.

  A few moments later his mother answered, looking flustered but pleased to see him. “John,” she said, smoothing her tousled hair. “Sorry, I’ve just got in from the garden. Windy out, isn’t it?”

  “Hi, Mum. Great to see you. How was your day?” John smiled at the screen and carefully changed the subject. It could have been raining goats over his parents’ house, for all he knew about the weather on Earth.

  “Rubbish!” his father interrupted, leaning over his wife’s shoulder. “The wind blew the bins over. There’s rubbish all over the garden. How was yours?”

  “Oh, the usual,” replied John, already feeling happier. It didn’t matter what they said, the sight of his parents’ faces always cheered him up. “I’m not doing so well in history, but the teacher’s OK. She and the headmaster are taking us to a museum in a couple of days.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know there were any history museums in Derbyshire,” his father replied. “Where is it?”

  “Umm... errr...” John choked, unable to answer.

  A message flashed up on the screen.

  “The History of the World Museum in Liverpool,” John gabbled with relief, thanking his stars that Zepp was able to help. “It’s a bit of a drive, but we’re setting off early.”

  “Well, I hope it helps you with your marks,” said his mother. “You look tired. There are black circles under your eyes. Are you getting enough rest?”

  John rubbed his eyes. “I did have a bit of a late night yesterday,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “Make sure you get an early night tonight,” said his mum, sounding concerned. “You don’t want me to write to the headmaster, do you?”

  “Ugh, no, Mum. I definitely don’t want that.”

  “Leave the boy alone,” his dad chipped in, grinning. “He’s probably been having midnight feasts with his chums, or whatever it is they do at posh boarding schools. Isn’t that right, son?”

  “Err, yeah. Sort of, Dad.”

  “So, apart from scoffing in the middle of the night, what else have you been up to?”

  John didn’t enjoy lying to his parents, but he knew it was necessary. If he didn’t give them some fake details about his life at Wortham Court, they might become suspicious. Nevertheless, he tried to keep his stories as close to the truth as possible. “Just hanging out with my friends Carl and Emma,” he told them. “We study together in the library, and Carl’s been teaching me martial arts.”

  As he chatted with his mum and dad, John slowly relaxed. The question about the museum had been a close call, but after a month on Hyperspace High he was getting used to telling his parents what they expected to hear. Without ever mentioning that “Carl” and “Emma” were from different planets, he had told them everything about his friends. In his tales, Zepp had become a computer whizz who loved music, while Lorem was Professor Holt, the learned headmaster who seemed to know everything. Hyperspace High itself became the converted stately home John had seen in the brochures about Wortham Court.

  He only realized that he had become a little too relaxed when he found himself saying, “...And I made a fool of myself in a flying lesson—”

  As the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. His mum and dad were blinking in surprise.

  “Flying lesson!” his dad yelped. “Wortham Court gives you flying lessons?”

  “Surely they don’t let students pilot aircraft,” his mother gasped.

  “Yeah... umm... no... ahh,” John stammered. “That is...” He stared at the screen, hoping that Zepp could come up with some way he could explain the flying lessons.

  Nothing. He was on his own.

  Panicking, John gabbled the first thing that came into his head. “It must be a bad connection. I said ‘frying’ lesson. The school gives us cookery lessons. You know, the importance of nutritious food and all that. We call them ‘frying lessons’. Anyway, I dropped an apple pie I’d made into someone’s bag. Made a complete mess of all their work...”

  John took a deep breath, watching his parents’ faces closely.

  His dad was first to
speak. “You are learning how to cook?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s fun,” John said, nodding furiously. “Cakes and all that.”

  “But you’ve never even been able to boil an egg,” his mum cut in.

  John shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m a top chef yet, but I’m learning.”

  “Brilliant, you can make Christmas dinner this year,” his dad said, grinning.

  John’s shoulders sagged, glad that his parents had swallowed the story, but feeling ashamed for telling them such an enormous lie. Forcing a smile onto his face, he ended the call as quickly as he could. He couldn’t face the thought of having to come up with any more lies that night.

  “Phew. Sorry, Zepp. That was really close,” he took a deep breath when the screen had gone blank.

  “Your parents believed you,” replied the computer calmly. “Are you all right?”

  The call over, his worry about the flying examination came flooding back. With another sigh, he leaned against the wall. Over the past month, he had come to share his innermost thoughts with the computer. Zepp was always cheerful, often made him laugh, and usually had something helpful to say.

  “I’m worried about having to take this test for the Examiners,” John admitted. “If I fail, I’ll be stuck here while everyone else goes to Archivus Major. I thought I was getting good at flying, but that’s my second crash. I messed up in Hyperspace History today, and I can’t even get my story straight for my parents. I don’t want to leave Hyperspace High, but at this rate Lorem is going to think letting me stay was a mistake.”

  “That is unlikely,” said Zepp’s voice gently. “Accessing your report file, I see that Sergeant Jegger has made positive comments about your flying abilities, and many other teachers say that you are trying hard in subjects that are completely new to you. Professor Dibali thinks that one day you could become one of the school’s leading mathematicians. The general opinion among the staff is that you have the potential to be an excellent student. As I have mentioned before, the headmaster rarely makes mistakes.”