Crash Landing (5 page)

John was in a gloomy mood and the next class didn’t lift it. Kaal and Emmie led him to a laboratory, where Professor Hispus, a four-armed teacher whose head looked like a snake’s, was waiting. The lesson was Advanced Life Form Biology, and John knew he was out of his depth before the professor had even finished the first sentence of his lecture.

Complex charts and symbols flashed across large screens hung around the room as John groaned quietly to himself. While the students around him took out ThinScreens and made notes, John tried to make himself look as small as possible in case the professor asked him a question. It didn’t work.

“You with the yellow hair next to Kaal, what is your name?” Hispus asked an hour into the lesson.

“John Riley,” John replied, sitting up straighter.

“I see you’re not taking notes, John Riley, so I can only suppose you must know all this already. Perhaps you could remind the class of the four major differences between the DNA structure of Elvians and Sillarans.”

“I’m sorry,” replied John. “It’s my first day and—”

“The Earthling’s as pathetic at biology as he is at flying t-darts,” Mordant whispered loudly. “Maybe they let him into the school to make Tarz look clever for a change.”

His hovering Serve-U-Droid spun, lights blinking, at his shoulder, “Yes, Master Talliver. Hyperspace High is supposed to be the most
exclusive
school in the galaxy. One wonders why the headmaster has allowed the primitive to become a student.”

John blushed. Emmie and Kaal both glared at the Mordant and his rude droid.

“That will do,” snapped the professor. “John Riley, see me after class for a reading list. It seems you have a lot to catch up on.”

Emmie and Kaal waited outside the door while Hispus gave John a short lecture on being properly prepared, as well as a long list of reading that he should complete before the next class. They looked at him pityingly as he came out a few minutes later, shaking his head. “I didn’t understand a single word,” he said glumly. “Talliver’s right: I’m pathetic.”

“Hey, it’s only your first day. You’ll catch up,” Kaal said cheerfully.

“And it’s lunch now,” added Emmie. “At least you can take a break.”

Lunch, however, was even more depressing. The first-year canteen was full of students noisily greeting each other after the holidays. John had to shout to make himself heard over the din. When he took a seat next to Kaal, a compartment slid from the table, serving a plate of foul-smelling purple cubes and a bowl of what looked like frogspawn. Rolling his eyes, John poked at the mess with the metal spike that was by his plate.

“Looks Martian to me!” shouted Kaal, peering over his shoulder. “The computer must still think you’re Prince Clo-Ra-Ta. On the plus side, Martian food’s supposed to be very good for you.”

“If you can keep it down,” mumbled John, spearing a purple cube and nibbling it cautiously. It tasted worse than it smelled. Determined to try and cheer up, he put it back in the bowl and yelled, “So what lesson am I going to be awful at next?”

“Plutonian martial arts,” replied Kaal, his mouth full of what looked like stew made from peeled worms. He winked. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

* * *

Two hours later, John staggered out of the padded gym, clutching his ribs. “I’m really, really sorry,” said Kaal behind him. “Got a bit carried away there. Don’t know my own strength.”

“It’s all right,” panted John. “I don’t mind being thrown clear across the room.” He paused, then added, “Seven times. I am
so
going to make you pay for that next time.”

Kaal’s teeth glinted. “It was fun, though, right?” he grinned, slapping John on the shoulder.

“Owww!” John yelped. “Don’t touch me. I’m one big bruise.”

After a lesson in early galactic history, which again left John with a long reading list and an aching head, the school day was finally over. Wearily, he dragged his stiff, hungry body down to the canteen to goggle with horrified disbelief when the table opened to reaveal exactly the same food he’d been given for lunch. Hoping it wasn’t poisonous, he tried the frogspawn this time, quickly spitting it back into the bowl.

“Yuck,” said Emmie Tarz, leaning across the table and wrinkling her nose at his meal. “You should talk to the computer about your food.”

“I’ll probably be dead from starvation by breakfast,” John grumbled in reply.

“I’ve got roasted falabird with skits and charn salad,” she replied. “It’s too much for me. Want to try some?”

John leaned over. The food on Emmie’s plate smelled better than his own and looked a little like roast turkey with beans the size of his thumb, and orange leaves. “If you’re sure you’ve got enough,” he gulped. “I don’t want you to go hungry, too.”

“Help yourself,” she said, smiling.

John spiked some of the falabird and put it in his mouth nervously. The meat was bitter, a long way from delicious, but far better than the Martian gloop in front of him. He swallowed and tried a skit. The large bean tasted like pasta. “Mmmm, thanks,” he said, chewing hungrily. “These aren’t too bad.”

“Do you want to try some of mine?” offered Kaal, who was crunching through a portion of what looked like stir-fried worms.

John quickly shook his head. 
Derrilian food looks even worse than Martian food, if that’s possible
, John thought.

Pushing his tray away, Kaal sighed. “I’ve got that detention now,” he said. “Better go, I don’t want to upset the Examiners again. Can you find your own way back to the dormitory, John? Or you could hang out in the Centre.”

“I’d keep you company, but I’ve got singing practice and a heap of studying,” said Emmie apologetically as she stood up. “See you in the morning.”

“It’s OK, I’d better make a start on all this reading. I’ll make my own way back,” John groaned as his new friends hurried away.

Ten minutes later he was hopelessly lost. He couldn’t even remember his room number, let alone where the dormitory was. Exhausted and despairing, he padded down softly carpeted, empty corridors trying to find his way back to his room. Outside the viewing windows, the glories of the galaxy swept by but John was in no mood to admire the view.
I’m never going to fit in here
, he told himself.

The corridor suddenly echoed with a chiming sound. A voice said, “John Riley.”

John spun around. He was all alone in the dimly lit passage.

“Uh... yes?” he said. “Who’s there?”

“Ship’s computer. The headmaster gave me instructions to monitor Earth’s communications systems. You have received an email. Would you like to read it?”

“I guess so, but I don’t have a... what do you call them? ThinScreen?”

“That will not be a problem, John Riley.”

In the air before John’s eyes, an email appeared.

- - -

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Re: First Day

Hi John, your dad and I are dying to know about your first day at school. Let us know how it went if you have the time. We miss you already. The house is so quiet without you.

Sending all our love,

Mum

xx

PS: Your dad’s “borrowed” your games console. He says to tell you that he’s going to totally kick your butt at Doom Hammer by the time you get back.

- - -

John blinked back sudden tears. His parents were so far away. He hadn’t realized how much he was missing them, as well as everything else that he usually took for granted: other human beings, decent food, the sky above his head...

The computer interrupted his thoughts. “Would you like to send a reply?”

“Yes, please. How do I do that?”

A new email window opened in the space before him. “Dictate your message,” said the computer.

“Hi Mum—” John started, stopping in surprise as his words appeared in the air. After a few moments, he started again. “It’s been a really weird day. It’s like I’m trillion miles from home...” As homesickness welled up, he let all his feelings out, telling his parents how out of his depth he felt and that he was the most stupid student in the school. The only thing he left out was that he was, in fact, trillions of miles away from Wortham Court, on a spaceship travelling among distant stars. “Love, John,” he finished eventually.

“Sending,” the computer told him.

A frown furrowed John’s forehead. “Could you tell me how to get back to my dormitory?” he asked.

“Of course. You are in dormitory sixteeen. There is a TravelTube at the end of this corridor that will take you straight there.”

“Thanks.” John walked on, silent for a few moments, but hearing a sympathetic voice – even if it belonged to a computer – made him want to talk. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said gloomily. “Us humans are too
primitive
...” he spat the word out, “...to belong in a place like this.”

“Perhaps some music might make you feel better,” murmured the computer.

A tune started playing in the background. It was a soothing track sung by a soft-voiced woman. John recognized it instantly. “That’s one of my mum’s favourites,” he said.

“Mine, too. Earth music is excellent,” the computer replied. “No species that can make such music could be described as ‘primitive’.”

“Well, I
feel
primitive. I’ll never catch up with the other students. Anyway, nobody wanted me here. It was just an accident.”

“Very little on Hyperspace High happens by accident,” the computer responded. “Sometimes it is difficult to understand the headmaster’s plans, but he dislikes accidents. As for catching up with the other students, I will help as much as I can.”

“That’s really kind of you,” John said. “Umm... you’re not a
normal
computer, are you? I’ve never heard of a computer that could have a proper conversation.”

“I am far more advanced than any computer on Earth,” said the computer with – John thought – a trace of pride in its voice. “I am built on a Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern.”

“A Zero-Electronic Thingummy What?”

“Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern. You might call it artificial intelligence,” replied the computer. “There are only a few of us in the universe. We were designed by the scholars of Kerallin to think, to understand, and to
know,
rather than to simply process information like most computers.”

In front of John, the door of a lift – or “TravelTube”, as the computer called it – opened. John walked in, so engrossed in the conversation that he barely noticed. The door closed softly, as John said, “So you’re almost like a
person
?”

“That is an interesting way of putting it.
Almost
, I suppose. The difference is that my mind is hugely superior to your soggy little brain.”

John burst into laughter.

“What an interesting sound,” said the computer.

“Really?” asked John. “I’m just laughing.”

“My databanks tell me that laughter, through increased abdominal activity, releases chemicals into the human brain that enhance positive emotions and supress pain sensors.”

“You mean it makes us feel better,” said John.

“That is another way of saying it, yes,” said the computer.

“So, what’s your name?” asked John through more laughter.

“I am called ‘ship’ or ‘computer’,” replied the voice. “The scholars of Kerallin do not name us.”

“But that’s rubbish!” shouted John indignantly. “Everyone should have a name. Would you like me to give you one?”

The voice was silent for a moment. Then, hesitantly, it said, “Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Then from now on you are Zepp. For Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern. How’s that?”

The TravelTube doors opened as the computer replied slowly, “Zepp. It is a
good
name.”

“Cool,” John replied. “So tell me, Zepp, how can you help me catch up with the other students?”

Back in his own dormitory, John kicked off his trainers and lay back on one of the squishy sofas while he chatted with the computer. For the next hour, the conversation jumped from the school, the headmaster, and the scholars of Kerallin, to Zero-G war and back to Hyperspace High again. All the time Zepp gave John information that would come in useful during his time on the vast spaceship. By the time Kaal arrived back from detention, the Earth boy and the computer were in the middle of a heated discussion about pop music.

The green-skinned Derrilian stopped in the doorway, looking surprised to see John laughing. “Who are you talking to?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, just Zepp,” said John with a grin. “Come and join us.”

“Well, it’s good to see you looking less depressed,” replied Kaal, throwing himself onto the sofa opposite and adjusting his wings with a rustle. “But who on Derril is Zepp? You haven’t gone mad and started talking to yourself, have you?”

“Zepp is the ship’s computer. I gave it a name. Kaal, meet Zepp. Zepp, meet Kaal.”

“We have spoken before,” said the computer, “but we haven’t been properly introduced. Good evening, Kaal.”

“Oh, hi computer—”

“Zepp,” John corrected.

“Zepp,” Kaal said with a frown. “Why are you talking to the computer, John?”

“It’s not just a computer. It’s got a personality. It thinks. It’s almost like a person, only—”

“Only with a far superior mind,” Zepp interrupted.

“Far superior to our soggy little brains,” John agreed with a chuckle.

Kaal blinked. “Oh,” he said, looking slightly ashamed. “I didn’t know that. And all this time I’ve been giving it orders like it’s just a piece of machinery. I’m sorry about that compu— Zepp.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Zepp replied. “Though I must say, it is pleasant to have a conversation that isn’t just, ‘Computer: get me a drink’ or ‘Computer: set course for Arcachon Five.’”

“We were just talking about music,” said John. “Zepp is a big fan of Coldplay, Jay Z, Adele, and The Beatles—”

“What are they?” Kaal asked, looking confused.