Space Plague Page 4

  Jets whining, the t-dart settled onto a featureless plain of grass.

  “Landing executed.”

  John’s fingers were already flickering over the screens ahead of him. A few seconds later, the t-dart burst through the Altore Three’s atmosphere. “Lay in a course for Hyperspace High,” John said quickly, “and jump to hyperspace on my mark, maximum speed.”

  “Not bad, cadet. Not bad at all,” said Sergeant Jegger, nodding approvingly as the door of John’s simulator module opened a few minutes later. “One hour, thirty-four minutes.”

  “Am I the first back, sir?” John asked quickly, as he pulled off his helmet.

  “That’ll be the day,” snorted Emmie, stepping out from behind Jegger and pushing silver hair out of her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  The corner of Jegger’s mouth twitched. “Tarz managed one hour thirty-three. Hardly anything in it,” he said, almost smiling.

  Even though Emmie looked pleased with her flight time, John could tell she was tired. She’s as worried about Kaal as I am.

  A few modules away, another door opened. Mordant stepped out, his face falling when he saw that Emmie and John had beaten him back. “Did you crash?” he asked, scowling.

  “No,” John snapped quickly. Desperate to get away from Mordant as quickly as possible, he turned back to Sergeant Jegger. “Do we need to stay here, sir?” he asked. “Only, this is my last exam for the day and I’d like to get up to the medical wing to see how Kaal’s doing.”

  “And Professor Dibali has asked me to go to his study for some last-minute maths tuition,” Emmie said.

  Jegger nodded. “Dismissed,” he growled.

  “I’m pretty sure I aced that,” John whispered to Emmie as they hurried away. “Almost had a run-in with an asteroid but that was the only problem.”

  “I did OK, too,” Emmie replied, adding glumly, “the only exam I’m going to get decent marks for.”

  The TravelTube door slid open. “You take this one,” said Emmie. “Professor Dibali’s office is at the other end of the ship from the medical wing, so I’ll just slow you down. I’ll see you in the library later. Give Kaal my love.”

  “Will do,” said John, forcing a smile. Even tired, Emmie looked pretty, he thought to himself. Her golden skin always looked radiant, but now it seemed to have an extra glow. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Nerves, John thought to himself. “Kaal’s going to be all right, Emmie,” he said gently.

  The Sillaran girl shook her head. “I wish I could believe that,” she replied.

  * * *

  Dr Kasaria spotted John as soon as he entered the medical wing. “John Riley,” she said, rising from her desk. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to ask you to return later. I’ve had some interesting results back from the tests I ran on you this morning.”

  John glanced through the clear screen into the quarantine room where Kaal lay motionless, hooked up to scary-looking machines and monitors. “I just came to visit Kaal,” he said. “Would it be all right if I sat with him for a while?”

  “I’m afraid not. As I said this morning, Zhaldarian Flu is extremely contagious. We cannot risk the infection spreading.”

  “But you’ve been in there,” John blurted. “Please, Dr Kasaria. Just for a little while?”

  “It’s for your own safety,” the doctor said quietly. “Kaal’s symptoms have grown worse. He has lost control of his limbs and parts of his brain. Zhaldarian Flu affects its victim’s behaviour. During this stage of the disease, Kaal is prone to violence.”

  “He’ll be fine with me,” John protested. “I’m his friend. He’d never hurt me.”

  Dr Kasaria tilted her head on one side, regarding him with enormous black eyes. “For a few moments, then,” she said eventually. “But you’ll have to wear a protective suit and be accompanied by an Examiner. Afterwards I want to run a few more tests on you.”

  Wearing white all-in-one overalls that covered him from head to foot and a thicker facemask than the Examiners had handed out earlier, John followed an Examiner through the disinfectant field.

  “Kaal,” he said softly, moving towards the bed. “It’s me, John. I just came to see how you’re doing.”

  The Derrilian lay still, the only movement the rising and falling of his chest. John leaned over him. “Kaal. Can you hear me?”

  Kaal’s eyes blinked open.

  “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” John asked.

  His friend’s head turned. Eyes like red fire glared at John. “It was you. You did it,” Kaal hissed angrily.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “YOU PUT THE BRAINWEEVILS IN MY HEAD!” Kaal roared, leaping from the bed. Tubes and wires snapped away from his arms. “THEY MAKE ME THINK OF... GAAH! THEY’RE HERE AGAIN.”

  John stepped back, shocked, as Kaal clawed at his own head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dr Kasaria rushing towards the disinfectant field. “Mate, you should get back into bed—” John began.

  “I’LL KILL YOU!” Kaal screamed, leaping towards John, his hands grabbing.

  “Easy, Kaal!” John shouted, leaping backward. But he was too slow. One of Kaal’s hands gripped his throat. The other tore the mask from his face.

  “YES, I CAN SEE YOU NOW EMPEROR TAVARR—”

  A green force field flung Kaal backward onto the bed. “Violence is prohibited,” the Examiner droned in its electronic voice.

  Dr Kasaria caught John’s arm as he staggered back. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” John gasped. “What about Kaal?”

  On the bed, Kaal thrashed and buckled, screaming what John knew must be Derrilian swear words at the Examiner, since those were the only words the ship’s computer did not translate. “There is nothing I can do for the poor boy until he calms down,” the doctor replied, pulling John back. “The Examiner will stop him hurting himself until then. Come with me.”

  Looking over his shoulder at his tortured friend, John allowed Dr Kasaria to guide him out of the quarantine room. Outside, Kaal’s shouts and groans were muffled, but John could still hear him.

  “You need to walk through the disinfectant portal,” said the doctor. “You’ve been exposed again, and we must take every precaution.”

  John removed his protective suit and did as he was ordered. Once again pink light wrapped around him as the machine puffed mist across his clothes and skin. When he had finished, Kaal was still twisting and roaring on his bed. Dr Kasaria was watching him intently, her forehead creased. She turned to John.

  “Once I am able to get close enough, I’ll give him some medicine to will make him sleep,” she said. “I’ll make him as comfortable as I possibly can, believe me.”

  John knew that beneath the doctor’s brisk exterior, she cared deeply for Hyperspace High’s students. “I know,” he replied simply.

  “For you, there is good news,” the doctor continued, her efficient manner returning. She pointed at the ThinScreen on her desk. What looked like a spiralling ladder was spinning in 3-D. “Human DNA has some peculiarities.”

  “What sort of peculiarities?”

  “Well, for one, you appear to be completely immune to Zhaldarian Flu.”

  Chapter 7

  John slouched away from the medical wing towards the TravelTube at the end of the corridor, hands in pockets and a puzzled frown etched into his face. Even though Dr Kasaria’s news should have made him feel relieved, it just served to confuse him. Why were humans immune? He just couldn’t stop thinking about Kaal and what this sickness had done to him. He knew he should be hurrying to revise, but after everything he had seen in the quarantine room he knew there was no way that he would be able to concentrate on Galactic Geography or Hyperspace History. Pressing a panel to call the TravelTube, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

 
A ball of light flashed through the wall at the end of the passage. It streamed towards him, trailing coloured ribbons of light. Stopping at his side, it morphed into the form of Lorem, the headmaster of Hyperspace High. Robed in white, he was an alien of medium height whose age John had never been able to guess. Bald, with the lined face of an old sage, Lorem’s skin glimmered softly and his purple eyes twinkled with youth.

  “Good evening, sir,” John said politely.

  “And to you, John Riley,” the headmaster replied. “You’ve been to see Kaal?”

  “Yes.” John paused for a moment, feeling sadness well up. “He’s... he’s in a bad way.”

  “Zhaldarian Flu is a terrible disease, John,” the headmaster replied softly.

  John glanced up sharply, as a thought occurred to him. Lorem had the ability to sense events that had yet to happen. Quickly, John said, “Have you looked into the future, sir? Will Kaal get better?”

  The headmaster looked back at him calmly. Crossing his arms, he replied. “As I have told you before, John, the shape of the future is not easy to see. There are many possible futures, each of which may or may not come to be, depending on the choices we all make. If different choices are made...” the headmaster shrugged, “then the shape can change at any moment.”

  John’s face fell. “So you can’t tell?” he said flatly.

  Uncrossing his arms, Lorem said enigmatically, “Choices, John. Choices.”

  John shook his head, even more confused than before.

  Lorem patted him on the shoulder and said, “Nothing is ever certain, but a certain train of events is possible. A train of events that gives me hope.” Lorem smiled at John, and continued briskly, “But for now, I suggest you eat and rest. Flu or no flu, you have a Hyperspace History exam tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse me, I am on my way to visit Kaal.”

  In front of John the TravelTube door slid open. “Yes, sir,” he said. “And if there’s anything I can do...”

  “I know, John,” said Lorem, disappearing in a flash of light.

  A few minutes later, John took his usual seat in the Centre. Kaal’s place next to him was empty and so, too, was Emmie’s. Probably still with Professor Dibali, he told himself, deciding not to wait for her. “I could do with some comfort food today, Zepp,” he said into empty air. “Chicken pie and mash with gravy would be great, please.”

  Lishtig plonked himself down in the seat opposite. “Hi, John. Jegger said you’d gone to visit Kaal. How is he?”

  The hulking Gobi-san-Art settled his huge, rocky frame in the seat next to Lishtig. “Can he talk? Did he say anything?” he asked in his deep, gravelly voice.

  Next to John, the thin, grey Bareon sat down. Fixing John with eyes almost as big as Dr Kasaria’s, he asked, “What are his symptoms?”

  “Kaal’s not so great,” John said quickly. He didn’t want to dwell on just how sick his friend was; he knew that wouldn’t help. At that moment four steaming bowls slid out of the food dispenser. “What’s this?” he said, looking into a bowl of pink mush with green blobs floating in it.

  “Grim,” said Lishtig, sniffing his bowl. “Smells like something the Sklart dragged in.”

  Gobi dipped a spoon into his bowl, letting the mush drop back in with a wet squelch. “I’ve had exams all day – haven’t you got anything better than this to eat, Zepp?” he complained.

  “Tonight’s meal is an automatic selection,” the ship’s computer replied. “It is Vita-Soup. Please finish the bowl.”

  “Vita-Soup,” said John, wrinkling his nose. “It looks more like Vita-Gloop.”

  Bareon, whose father was a medic with the Galactic Fleet, did his best to explain. “Vita-Soup is a specially engineered foodstuff that can be eaten by all known life forms in the universe. It contains all the vitamins and minerals necessary to build up the immune system.” He paused for a moment before slurping a spoonful. “And it tastes absolutely disgusting,” he finished glumly.

  John almost choked on his first mouthful. “I’d rather eat my own toenails than this,” he said, letting his spoon fall into his bowl. “Chicken pie’s got lots of vitamins and minerals, too, you know, Zepp,” he added hopefully.

  “I’m sorry, headmaster’s orders,” Zepp replied.

  An Examiner floated to the table, lights blinking across its smooth, white head. “All students must finish the Vita-Soup,” it droned. “Failure to comply will result in detention and double Vita-Soup rations tomorrow.”

  “I thought the infection had been contained,” groaned Gobi, picking up his spoon again. “Why are we being forced to eat this muck if there’s no chance we could get it?”

  Bareon forced down another mouthful, his face twisting in disgust. “Yuck... Zhaldarian Flu is extremely contagious,” he replied. “And very serious. I had a great-great-great-great-great uncle who died from it.” Hearing John gasp, he turned in his seat. “Sorry, John... I didn’t mean to worry you... that was hundreds of years ago. Treatments have improved since then. I’m sure Kaal will be—”

  “It’s OK,” said John, raising a hand to stop Bareon’s apology.

  Lishtig and Gobi changed the subject, asking John about the Space Flight exam. John answered politely, but finished the soup as quickly as he could. “Got to meet Emmie in the library for revision,” he said, as he gulped down the last spoonful. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  John rushed to the library, but there was no sign of Emmie. Dibali must be working her hard, he thought, sitting at an empty desk. For half an hour, he tried to concentrate on Hyperspace History, but his mind kept wandering back to Kaal. As the minutes ticked by and Emmie still didn’t arrive, he began to worry a little. “It’s nothing, she’s always late,” he said to himself.

  As half an hour turned into an hour, creeping worry grew in his mind. Unable to put his finger on why he was fretting, John sat back in his MorphSeat and cast his mind back to the last time he had seen her. She was fine, wasn’t she? Emmie had looked tired, but she had been perfectly healthy. Her skin even had a glow to it.

  Just like Kaal’s.

  * * *

  “Emmie left here over an hour ago,” said a confused Professor Dibali a few minutes later.

  John looked up into the maths teacher’s eyes, which weaved about at the end of long stalks. “Did she mention where she was going, sir?”

  “I’m sorry, no. But she looked a little tense. Perhaps she went to one of the sports halls to do some exercise.”

  Anxiety mounting, John sprinted down the corridor towards the TravelTube. Checking every sports hall on the ship took another twenty-five minutes. Still there was no sign of Emmie.

  It’s OK. Emmie’s OK. Her golden skin always looks like its glowing. John ran around the balconies of the Centre, asking every student he passed if they had seen her.

  “Sillaran girl? Silver hair?” said a third-year with patched, harlequin skin and a flickering forked tongue.

  “That’s her,” panted John.

  “Not sure,” said the third-year, “but I may have passed her a while ago on the way to the Chemistry labs.

  “Thanks!” John called over his shoulder, racing away again. They had a Chemistry exam after the Hyperspace History test the next day, and it was possible Emmie had gone to check an experiment or to get some extra help.

  “Chemistry laboratories,” said the TravelTube. John was out of the door before it had finished opening. Before him was one of the strangest corridors on the ship. Every wall, and the ceiling, was made from long glass tubes, each filled with a different-coloured, bubbling liquid. As Professor Shard, the Chemistry teacher, liked to remind the class, in her laboratories even the walls were part of the experiments.

  Taking no time to marvel over the strange sights, John peered into rooms filled with enormous crystal structures and laboratories where tiny suns burned in protective jars. A few students looke
d up from their work as he entered the labs, but there was no sign of Emmie.

  In the last room almost all the space was taken up by a fantastically complex arrangement of force fields, holding a single drop of antimatter securely in place. As John poked his head round the door, his heart leaped. Standing at a ThinScreen was a girl with silver hair. But when she turned around, his heart sank. This girl had turquoise skin as well as an extra pair of eyes.

  “Where is she?” he muttered to himself, as he raced back to the TravelTube. One after another, he checked Emmie’s favourite places. The cinema complex was closed until the flu scare had passed. The music rooms were empty, apart from Mistress Soo-See, who was playing a sad melody on an Operian harp on the floating stage of the concert hall. The ornately carved instrument stretched thirty metres above her head.

  Everywhere he went, John was met with blank looks. Finally, breathing heavily, he leaned against the wall. He mentally retraced his steps, wondering if there was anywhere he had missed. To the astonishment of two passing students, he suddenly slapped his own forehead. “I’m such an idiot,” he told them, running off again as they gawped. Diving into a TravelTube, he cried, “Dormitory level sixteen.”

  “Emmie!” John shouted, pressing the chime and banging on the door of her room. “Open up! It’s me, John.”

  There was no answer. John pressed his ear to the door. There was silence within.

  “EMMIE!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Around the lobby, students turned to see what the fuss was about.