Space Plague Page 2

  Copying Emmie’s move, John leaped for the top of the other ball. As his feet touched down, the ball began rolling away. “Waaah!” he yelled, arms flailing as he tumbled straight off again, floating across the sports hall.

  “I’m still preparing myself to taste defeat,” Emmie giggled, as John flicked on his QuickFan, using the tiny jet to propel him back towards the ball.

  On the third attempt, John finally managed to balance. Swaying, he tried aiming his gun. With the ball shifting beneath his feet, the muzzle swung about wildly.

  “OK!” shouted Emmie. “Joust in three... two... one... go.”

  “Oooof!” John grunted as he was thrown from the ball. Emmie’s first shot had hit him squarely in the chest.

  “One point to me!” Emmie yelled, punching the air. “Get back on the ball, Earthling.”

  Twice more, Emmie managed to shoot John off his ball before he’d had a chance to even pull the trigger. As he took position for the third time, he gritted his teeth, thinking, Come on, John. You are being humiliated. Concentrating, he brought his gun up and, at last, squeezed off a shot. The ball went wide. Whistling past Emmie, it bounced against the wall and came hurtling back.

  “Nooo!” John yelped, trying to roll out of the way. He was too slow. The ball smacked him in the centre of his forehead, sending him spinning across the sports hall once more.

  Emmie was laughing hysterically as John mounted the ball again. “That was brilliant,” she choked out. “Zepp, did you record that? I want to show it to everyone I know.” With tears of laughter streaming from her eyes, the muzzle of her gun weaved about unsteadily.

  A ball whistled through the air towards John. Jerking his shoulder, he managed to get out of the way just in time. He pulled the trigger on his gun. Emmie’s laughter ended abruptly, as John’s shot hit her on the thigh, sending her tumbling.

  “Hey!” she cried. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

  “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it now,” John replied smoothly.

  “Well, I was taking it easy on you,” she grinned, leaping back onto her ball. “But if you think you’re ready to play properly...” A shot zoomed across the sports hall.

  Wobbling, John ducked. He aimed his gun, almost bringing Emmie down again with a ball that glanced off her ankle. It joined the others that were now zipping around the room.

  “I’ll get you for that!”

  Before John knew it, he was flying backward again. With a blast of the QuickFan, he was back on the ball, now finding his balance more easily. “Five-one!” he shouted. “You haven’t won yet, Emmie!”

  Over the next half hour, they played three matches. Emmie won the first two easily, but John learned fast – the last was hard-fought and the Sillaran girl only just scraped a ten-nine victory.

  “Not bad,” she said, leaping gracefully to the floor, as Zepp restored gravity. “In another few years, you might make a half-decent cyber jouster.”

  “Ha, you were lucky in that last match,” John told her, wiping sweat from his forehead. “If that rebound hadn’t hit me from behind, I would have wiped the floor with you.”

  “You think?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Quick rematch?” said Emmie, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Zepp’s voice, “but this sports hall is reserved for a Plutonian Karate tournament in five minutes. I would also recommend rest if you wish to be fresh for your exams in the morning.”

  Already, the sports hall was turning into a karate arena around them. Beneath John and Emmie’s feet the hard floor transformed into spongy matting. Tiers of seating slid from the walls.

  “Another time, then,” said John with a mock growl. “But don’t think I’m going to forget I owe you a trouncing.”

  “We’ll see about that, Earthling.”

  By the time the two of them had returned their equipment to the equipment room, students began arriving for the tournament. Rosy-cheeked and still chuckling, John and Emmie set off for the TravelTube at the end of the corridor. “You were getting pretty good towards the end,” Emmie said.

  “Not as good as you,” John admitted. “But it’s a fun game. Where does it come from?”

  “It wasn’t a game when it started,” his friend told him. “Cyber jousting began as a fight to the death between specially trained warriors. Matches were fought in space and only the winner came back. Anyone who lost contact with their ball was left to drift off between the stars, never to be seen again.”

  “We’re going to stick to the sports hall, though, right?” John asked, shivering. A few weeks earlier, he and Kaal had almost died in the cold vacuum of space during the Robot Warriors’ competition – and the memory still chilled him.

  The door of the TravelTube opened in front of them. “Luckily for you,” Emmie replied, “cyber jousting in space is now illegal.”

  “Dormitory level sixteen,” said the TravelTube, as its door slid open a few seconds later. John and Emmie stepped out into a wide common-room space like a hotel lobby. Soft sofas were dotted about the heavily carpeted floor. A small fountain tinkled in the middle of the room. Dotted about were plasma sculptures by Hyperspace High students who had gone on to become famous artists.

  Realizing just how tired he was, John said goodnight to Emmie and then crossed the floor to his own room. As the door slid open, he stumbled into the dimly lit room. Then he stopped. Something was different. John looked about, slightly confused. The two black sofas were exactly where they should be. So, too, were the desks he and Kaal worked at. On the other side of the floor-to-ceiling viewing window, stars slipped by as the vast school made its way through the skies.

  What’s different? John thought to himself. A moment later, he realized. At this time of the day, Kaal was usually sitting on one of the sofas, either playing on the virtual-reality games console they had won in the Robot Warriors’ competition, tinkering with a piece of technology, or watching something on the entertainment ThinScreen. As the Derrilian only needed an hour or so of sleep each night, he was almost always up, studying or playing games in their room. But tonight, the room was empty.

  John shrugged. Maybe he’s hanging out at Ska’s Café, or gone to the 4-D cinema for a late showing. Yawning, he crossed to the bathroom, climbing out of his jumpsuit and throwing it over the back of a sofa. Fetching his toothbrush from the bathroom, he flicked the entertainment ThinScreen on to the Intergalactic News Channel. A small gang of space pirates had been rounded up in the Omega Sector. Councillor Tarz – Emmie’s father – had made a speech welcoming a new world to the League of Planets. John looked with interest at the footage of a tall, golden-skinned man with silvery blue hair, then started as the image changed and he heard the word “Earth”. A NASA launch had taken off, almost colliding with a cloaked intergalactic tourist cruiser in orbit. Grinning, the newsreader said that the cruiser’s captain had used force fields to change the Earth rocket’s direction, leaving human scientists flummoxed. John thought this must be the funny story that normally took place at the end of the news. Next on was a discussion about the rising price of mallux. Boring. He flicked off the screen again.

  A faint rustling sound came from Kaal’s bed pod. John took the toothbrush out of his mouth and peered into the small room that was completely filled by a bed. Kaal was fast asleep. John frowned. It was hours earlier than his roommate’s usual bedtime and, normally, when Kaal went to bed, he closed the screen in case his loud snoring woke John. Tonight, though, the screen had been left open. Beneath the covers Kaal shifted slightly, his wings rustling again. There was no hint of his usual bed-shaking snores.

  He’s completely flaked out, John thought to himself. Must be shattered from studying.

  Squinting in the dim light, he stepped closer, unable to believe his eyes. Kaal’s green skin was glowing – a luminescent green that seemed to pulse gentl
y. Over the past few weeks at Hyperspace High, John had seen many bizarre things, but this was something new. “Ummm, Kaal,” he whispered, “you’re sort of glowing. Are you OK?”

  Kaal slept on.

  “Mate?”

  There was still no response from the sleeping Derrilian.

  “Maybe you just ate something fluorescent for dinner,” John said quietly. “It’s a wonder you haven’t sprouted an extra head by now with all the weird stuff you eat. Or maybe your people just glow sometimes. It wouldn’t be the freakiest thing you guys get up to.” Reaching out, he pressed a pad on the wall at the foot of Kaal’s bed-pod. The screen slid silently into place. “Nighty night, Kaal,” John yawned, crossing to his own bed-pod and climbing in.

  Slipping under the covers, he laid back and stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “Yup, can’t wait for exams to be over,” he said to himself. In a few days’ time, he would board one of Hyperspace High’s shuttles and return to Earth. For the first time in two months, he would see his parents in person. They had no idea that he was trillions of kilometres across the universe; they thought he was at a boarding school in Derbyshire. I wish I could tell them about Hyperspace High, he thought. And about exploding volcano planets and alien wars and building my own robot and everything else that’s happened over the last couple of months.

  John smiled as his eyes closed. Yeah, right. They’d think you’d gone totally round the bend. A few months ago, John would have laughed at the idea of life beyond Earth, too. But now his two best friends came from different planets – and he couldn’t imagine what he’d do without them over the holidays.

  Chapter 3

  Music filtered into John’s dream, a song his mum often sang along to while dancing around the kitchen at home. He stirred, muttering, “Mum, stop it. That’s sooo embarrassing.”

  “Morning, John,” said Zepp’s voice loudly. “Time to get up.”

  John pulled the covers up around his head. “’Nother five minutes, Mum,” he mumbled.

  “Two pieces of news,” the computer replied. “First: I am not your mother. Second: exams start in one hour. Up and at ’em. Wakey wakey. Rise and shine.”

  John sat up, shaking his head. “Eh?” he mumbled. “Whassat?”

  “Exams, John. One hour. Time to get busy.”

  “Oh great, exams,” said John. “Way to make me leap out of bed with a smile on my face, Zepp.”

  “Cosmic Languages this morning,” replied the computer. “Examination room eight. You now have fifty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

  John groaned. Along with Galactic Geography, Cosmic Languages was his least-favourite subject. “Oh well,” he said, crawling out of bed and rubbing sleep out of his eyes, “let’s get it over with.”

  “Shall I start the auto-cleanse for you?”

  “Please, Zepp,” John yawned. His face twisted as music started, a song called “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” from an old movie. “And turn the music off; I hate this song. My mum sings it all the time.”

  On John’s first day at Hyperspace High, he and the computer had bonded over music. Zepp loved Earth music and played it whenever the chance arose. Some of the computer’s song choices were, however, very odd. “This is a classic,” Zepp said, increasing the volume. “One of my favourite tunes. Your mother has excellent taste.”

  “Please, Zepp!” John shouted. “Turn it off or I’ll be forced to take a hammer to your circuits.”

  John sighed with relief as the song came to an abrupt stop.

  “Spoilsport,” said Zepp.

  The auto-cleanse shower always made John feel like he was standing in a car wash. First, hundreds of tiny nozzles sprayed him all over with soap. After that the water power increased, filling the shower cubicle with swirling foam as the jets scoured him up and down. After a final rinse with clean water, blasts of warm air dried him off within seconds.

  Fifteen minutes later, still humming, John scanned the notes he’d made on the Gularan language on his portable ThinScreen while he brushed his teeth. Rinsing his mouth, he checked the mirror to make sure his hair wasn’t doing anything too weird, then wrapped a towel around himself. Walking back into the larger room, he took a fresh silver and red Hyperspace High uniform from his locker, and started dressing. “Hey, Zepp, where’s Kaal?” he asked. “Has he gone to breakfast already?”

  “Kaal is still in bed,” said Zepp. “I’ve tried to wake him several times, but he will not get up.”

  “That’s not like him,” John replied, glancing at his friend’s closed bed-pod screen. “Usually, he’s trying to drag me to breakfast before I’m out of bed.”

  “It is strange. As you know, Derrilians only need one hour of sleep each day. Kaal has been in bed for almost ten hours.”

  Crossing the room, John placed his hand on the wall panel. The screen slid back. John blinked in surprise. During the night, Kaal had curled into a ball, his arms hugging his knees and his wings wrapped around his body. His skin was still glowing, but even brighter now. Kaal’s bed-pod was filled with green light.

  This is freaky, John thought. Leaning over, he gently shook his friend by the shoulder. “Kaal,” he said. “Wake up.”

  Kaal didn’t move. His eyes remained closed. Beneath John’s hand Kaal’s skin felt hot and sticky. Is that normal for Derrilians? John wondered. With growing fear, he realized that he knew nothing about the way Derrilian bodies worked. Kaal might have a fever, or his species might wake up sweating fluorescent green all the time.

  “Kaal,” John repeated louder, shaking his room-mate’s shoulder again. “Stop messing about. Exams start in forty-five minutes. Get up or you’re going to be late.”

  No response.

  “KAAL!” This time, John shouted. Still, Kaal didn’t move.

  John leaned over further. His friend was breathing, but his breaths were fast and shallow. This is definitely not right, John thought.

  “Zepp!” John yelled, his voice cracking with concern. “I think Kaal’s sick.”

  “Stay calm,” Zepp said instantly. “I will alert the Meteor Medics. They will arrive in a few moments.”

  “Tell them to hurry. He looks really bad.”

  “They are on their way now.”

  “How long—”

  The door hissed open and six white robots with blue flashing lights and a flaming fireball insignia on their chests flooded into the room.

  Silently, John watched as the medical droids worked on Kaal. More metal arms emerged from their robotic bodies, each dividing into dozens of smaller fingers, some carrying medical equipment that John didn’t recognize. The Meteor Medics expertly turned Kaal onto his back. John winced as one of the robots began injecting probes into Kaal’s glowing skin. Another Meteor Medic ran a pulsing blue light over his friend’s unconscious form.

  Kaal jerked. His eyes half-opened before closing again almost instantly.

  “What are they doing?” John shouted, trying to get through the mass of droids. “Zepp, they’re hurting him.”

  “John, stay calm,” Zepp said sternly. “They’re not hurting him. What you saw is a reaction to the Total Scan. The Meteor Medics are collecting information from every part of Kaal’s body down to a cellular level. It will only take a few moments.”

  “AnalySing, analySing...” droned one of the Meteor Medics in a flat, toneless voice. “Results confirmed.”

  The blue flashing lights turned red. John felt a shiver of fear run down his back.

  “Urgent action required,” said the robot. “Quarantine patient. Disinfect dormitory immediately.”

  “What’s happening?” shouted John, as another Meteor Medic hurried into the room, a floating hover stretcher close behind.

  None of the droids answered him. Their spindly arms quickly lifted Kaal out of bed and onto the stretcher.

  “ACTIVATE FORCE F
IELD.”

  A glowing blue dome appeared over the stretcher.

  “INFECTION CONTAINED.”

  The Meteor Medics began carrying the stretcher out through the door.

  “Please, tell me what’s happening,” John yelled desperately, trying to follow. “Where are you taking him? What’s wrong with Kaal?”

  A Meteor Medic blocked his path, laying long metal digits on his chest to stop him. “John Riley, have you been in close contact with the patient?” it asked, ignoring his questions.

  “What? I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

  “Have you touched the patient?”

  John tried to push the droid to one side. “I just want to see my mate!” he shouted. “Let me through.”

  Zepp’s voice cut in. “John Riley has been in close contact with the patient,” the computer confirmed. “He touched his shoulder a few moments ago.”

  Flashing a red light, the medic said, “John Riley, report to the medical wing immediately. You and your roommate have been exposed to Zhaldarian Flu.”

  Chapter 4

  Laying back on a silver examination table wearing only his underwear, John looked up into the enormous black eyes of Dr Kasaria, the chief of Hyperspace High’s medical wing. “What is going on?” he asked. Goosebumps prickled across his skin where it touched the cold metal.

  “Please be quiet and open your mouth wide,” said the metallic-skinned woman in a curiously high voice. “I do not have time for questions.”

  “But—”

  “Open wide.”

  John did as he was told. The doctor peered down his throat and then ran a small machine up and down his body. More goosebumps tingled wherever it passed.

  “You’re lucky. You show no sign of infection,” Dr Kasaria said briskly. “Zhaldarian Flu is extremely contagious. Report back here if you feel in the slightest bit unwell. In the meantime, please walk through the disinfectant field, get dressed, and return to school.”