Frozen Enemies

First published in 2013 by Curious Fox,
an imprint of Capstone Global Library Limited,
7 Pilgrim Street, London, EC4V 6LB
Registered company number: 6695582

www.curious-fox.com

Text © Hothouse Fiction Ltd 2013

Series created by Hothouse Fiction
www.hothousefiction.com

The author’s moral rights are hereby asserted.

Cover Illustration by Dani Geremia

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978 1 78202 007 3

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (including photocopying or storing it in any medium by electronic means and whether or not transiently or incidentally to some other use of this publication) without the written permission of the copyright owner.

ebook created by Hothouse Fiction Ltd

With special thanks to Martin Howard

John Riley was surrounded by aliens. Out of the darkness they came, in their hundreds and thousands: tall grey creatures with large black eyes; little green men; beings with tentacles and antennae, as well as other, even stranger, creatures. Crowding in on him, they babbled in strange languages that John couldn’t understand. Shaking his head, he tried to back away, but the crowd of aliens followed him, pressing closer and closer. One of them reached out with long blue fingers and gripped his shoulder.

“John Riley.
John Riley!
Are you all right? Do you need to go to the medical centre?”

John’s eyes snapped open. He lifted his head and looked around the room. “W-what... huh?” he stuttered. Around him, the aliens had turned in their seats to stare.

It’s a dream. I’m dreaming.

His shoulder was shaken again. “John Riley?” said the voice.

John looked up and yelped as he found himself looking into violet eyes with black slits in the centre.

Stop freaking out. Calm down. This is not a dream. It’s a classroom. You’re in a classroom at Hyperspace High
. John blinked for a second.
And you just conked out at your desk
, he was told by
a part of his brain that had woken up a little more quickly.

Reality came flooding back. The alien glaring down at him was the Hyperspace History teacher, Ms Vartexia. The other aliens were all pupils. And John was a first-year at Hyperspace High, the most amazing school in the universe. It had been founded thousands of years ago by the reclusive scholars of Kerallin.

“Uh, Ms Vartexia,” John stammered. “I-I m-must have...”

“...Fallen asleep,” the blue-skinned, bald Elvian finished for him. Taking her hand from his shoulder, she crossed her long, thin arms. Frown lines appeared on her domed forehead.

“Umm. I guess I... That is... well... errr...” John stuttered.
Nice one, Riley
, he told himself silently.
Way to get chucked out.
Attending school on a vast, technologically advanced spaceship hundreds of light years from home still felt odd most of the time, but he
was
starting to feel like he belonged here. However odd life on Hyperspace High was, he definitely didn’t want to get sent back to a boring Earth school.

The lines on Ms Vartexia’s forehead faded. She looked down a little more kindly. John’s shoulders sagged with relief. As he had found out the day he had first arrived at Hyperspace High, the Elvian teacher was strict – and had no sense of humour whatsoever – but she was prone to making mistakes, which meant she was quite forgiving when others messed up.
Lucky it wasn’t Doctor Graal’s class
, John caught himself thinking.

“I shall have to give you some extra work,” Ms Vartexia replied briskly. “You are still struggling with Hyperspace History, so you cannot afford to sleep through lessons.”

John nodded. The punishment could have been a lot worse.

“I also suggest you make sure that you are getting enough sleep,” the teacher continued. “I understand Earthlings are a primitive species and require plenty of rest.”

Inwardly, John groaned at the word “primitive”. In the month he had been at Hyperspace High, he had heard that human beings were a backward species about a thousand times.
But she’s right:
I’m not getting enough sleep
,
he told himself. The previous night John and his roommate, Kaal, had been exploring the functions of the entertainment ThinScreen in their dormitory after lights out and had discovered a game called
Asteroid Avenger
. They had both become totally engrossed in reaching the final level. A native of the planet Derril, Kaal only needed a few hours’ rest each night. By the time John had looked at the clock it was 2.30 a.m. in the morning.
Stupid, Riley. That was really stupid
, he scolded himself.

“I know that much of what we are learning is new to you,” Ms Vartexia continued, “and I know you are doing well in other subjects. However, I need to see an improvement in your history work. Perhaps another student could help you with your studies?”

John nodded up at the teacher. Once again, Ms Vartexia was right. He had known nothing about space or alien civilizations throughout the galaxy before one of her mishaps brought him to this school. Since becoming a Hyperspace High student, he had struggled with every subject except maths – but history was easily his worst subject. There was so much to learn. The history of the galaxy stretched back millions of years. Even just studying the most important events meant cramming more knowledge into his brain than he thought it was capable of holding.

While Ms Vartexia lectured him, John glanced over to a few desks away, where an alien boy with a mane of black hair was sitting. He felt a twinge of envy. Mordant Talliver seemed to absorb lessons without even trying. He always came top in Hyperspace History.
Top in almost every class
, John reminded himself. Although Mordant was a bully, John wondered if the half-Gargon boy could help with his own studies.
It might be worth putting up with him if it means I don’t get chucked out
, John thought to himself.

“...So if you wish to pass Hyperspace History this year, I will be looking for much more effort, John Riley.”

John’s wandering attention snapped back to the teacher. “Yes, thanks, Ms Vartexia,” he babbled. “Sorry I fell asleep. I just stayed up too late last night. It’s not because you’re boring or anything—”

John heard a snort of laughter. “What a suck-up,” Mordant Talliver hissed loudly.

A tennis-ball-sized metal sphere bobbed at Mordant’s shoulder, lights blinking across its surface: a Serv-U-Droid called G-Vez that was half servant, half pet. “Indeed, Master Talliver,” the droid said in a snooty voice that sounded ever-so-slightly bored. “The human is obviously trying to escape punishment by using flattery, and as the great Gargon philosopher Huurl once said, ‘Flattery is like the burping of Gorpigs.”

Mordent grinned. “
The burping of Gorpigs
,” he repeated. “Huurl really knew what he was talking about, didn’t he?”

“That will do, Mordant Talliver,” snapped Ms Vartexia, turning towards the sneering boy. “If your droid does not stay silent, I will confiscate it.”

John rolled his eyes.
What was I thinking?
he asked himself.
Like Mordant would ever help anyone apart from himself.

“Computer,” the Elvian teacher said, returning to the front of the class. “End programme Vartexia-B-Six-Four-Shard.” The screen surrounding the room instantly went blank. “Now, take out your ThinScreens and begin reading about the Goran–Subo war.”

As the students rummaged in their bags, John felt a nudge.

“Sorry about that,” whispered Emmie Tarz on his right. He watched, dazzled as usual by her beauty, as she flicked silvery hair out of her shining eyes and leaned across her desk towards him. “I did try and wake you up. You were snoring.”

“Ha, that wasn’t snoring,” said a deeper voice from the desk to John’s left. “You should try sleeping in the same room as me if you want to hear
real
snoring. It’d make your brain dribble out of your ears.”

John turned to look at his roommate. Kaal’s leathery wings, green skin, and sharp fangs made him look like some sort of demon. “It’s true,” said John with a sudden grin. “Your snoring is probably the reason I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Kaal. “It was nothing to do with playing
Asteroid Avenger
until two-thirty at all.”

“Hey,” John replied, looking embarrassed. “Just because I can’t survive on two hours of sleep...”

John’s words trailed off, as a flashing orb of colourful light zipped through a solid wall as if it weren’t there. It hovered next to Ms Vartexia, glittering brilliantly, and then silently changed form in a blaze of light lasting half a second. Where the ball had been stood a tall alien dressed in white robes. Although he was humanoid in shape, he glowed like a neon light. His head was bald and his face lined with age, but his purple eyes sparkled with humour, making him look youthful.

“Good morning,” said Lorem, headmaster of Hyperspace High, in a cheerful voice. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Ms Vartexia, but I have an important announcement that needs everyone’s full attention.” He glanced at John, raising one eyebrow.

John bit his lip, blushing.

The headmaster’s gaze had already moved on. “Zepp, show the visuals, please.”

“Of course, headmaster,” said the voice of the ship’s computer, which John had named Zepp – short for Zero-Electronic Personality Pattern – soon after arriving on Hyperspace High. The name had caught on quickly. Now, almost everyone aboard used it.

“Thank you,” said the headmaster, as the classroom walls flashed into life again. This time, they showed the surface of a planet. John stared. Across the moving image of the world was a mind-boggling variety of landscapes: mountains, island jungles, deserts, plains of grass, rivers, lakes, and seas, as well as other vistas that were like nothing John had ever seen.

He saw forests that looked as if they had been built from the insides of an old radio, mountains of lacy steel, temples made of gas, and places so strange that he couldn’t begin to guess what they were or what they were made of. Here and there, great stone spires jabbed into the sky, alongside shining glass pyramids, metal domes, spikes of crystal, and buildings that seemed to have been grown rather than built. As scene after scene rolled past, John wondered if the entire planet had been stitched together from a thousand different worlds.

For a few minutes, Lorem allowed the students to watch the strange planet in silence. Then he cleared his throat. “This,” he said, “is the museum planet Archivus Major. These images were taken from orbit, as no photography is allowed on the surface. On Archivus Major there are artefacts from every civilization the galaxy has ever known – from atomic artworks to whole landscapes that have been moved across thousands of light years. It is an extraordinary place to visit.” The headmaster paused for a moment before finishing, “And in two days’ time, myself and Ms Vartexia will be taking you there.”

John couldn’t believe it. Archivus Major looked
awesome.
He turned to his two friends and saw that both Emmie’s and Kaal’s eyes were lit up with excitement.

“Do we
have
to go?” came a voice from John’s left.

The headmaster’s eyebrow arched again. He stared at the black-haired boy who had spoken. “Most people would consider it an honour just to be allowed to set foot on Archivus Major, Mordant,” Lorem said softly. “Only one group is allowed to visit at a time and the waiting list is years long. You may never have the chance to see its wonders again.”

Mordant shrugged. “That’s OK, I don’t mind,” he said. “I’m always top in Hyperspace History. I don’t need to visit some crumbly old museum.”

An edge of steel crept into Lorem’s voice. “To answer your question more directly, Mordant:
yes,
you do have to go. Everyone is going. No exceptions.”

“But I—”

“Ahh, of course.” A look of understanding gleamed in the headmaster’s eyes. “It’s the Intergalactic Vapourball Championship game in two days’ time and – if memory serves – you’re a fan, aren’t you, Mister Talliver?”

“I’ve been waiting for this game all year,” Mordant blustered. “The Gargon Bruterippers are playing in the final.”

“You can watch the highlights when we return,” replied Lorem. It was obvious that as far as he was concerned, the argument was over.

A deep scowl crossed the half-Gargon boy’s face, and he crossed his tentacles angrily. The Serv-U-Droid floated at his shoulder. One of its tiny arms extended to flick a microscopic fleck of dust from its master’s uniform.

Suddenly, a chiming noise signalled the end of class. As a murmur of excitement ran around the room and students began picking up their bags, Lorem raised his hand for silence.

“Just a few more things,” he said. “Firstly, all your normal classes for the next two days have been changed.”

A few students cheered.

“Don’t get too excited,” Lorem said, smiling. “You’ll be doing extra work to catch up.” His smile grew wider as the cheers turned to groans. “Secondly, each of you will be travelling to Archivus Major in an individual spaceship – a Xi-Class Privateer, to be exact. It’s a ship you won’t have piloted before, so Sergeant Jegger will be giving you an intensive course starting in five minutes.”

“Wowsers,” John said to Kaal and Emmie, as the headmaster flashed back into the spinning ball of light and sped through the wall. “That woke me up.”

“My dad will never believe it,” said Kaal, starting towards the door. “He’s a history buff and has been trying to get to Archivus Major for years. He’s never even made it onto the shortlist. There are people who’ve died of old age waiting for their turn.”

“It
does
look pretty amazing,” Emmie chipped in as they reached the corridor, “and you know I’m not the greatest fan of Hyperspace History.”

“‘Pretty amazing’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” breathed Kaal. “They have the skeleton of an actual Star Dragon – the only one in the universe – plus the original megasculpture of Intergalactic Emperor Gerinim the Vile
and
the ancient golden weapons of the C’perm Sun Tribe
and
—”

“And we really need to get down to the hangar,” John cut in. “You know what Jegger’s like about lateness.” Sprinting down the passage, he called ahead, “Hey, Lishtig! Hold that TravelTube for us.”

Two minutes later John around out onto Hyperspace High’s main hangar deck. Joining the end of a neat line of students, he stared about him. There were some things about Hyperspace High that he was sure he would never get used to, and the hangar deck was one of them. It was vast. Every time he stepped onto it, he felt like an ant in a football stadium.

Then there were the spaceships.

With a soft click and faint humming sound, the floor in front of the line of students dropped away. Beneath, a new compartment locked into place and the deck rose again. With it came sixteen black, egg-shaped spacecraft, each roughly the size of a large car.
The Xi-Class Privateers
, John guessed.

Standing among the ships was a three-legged alien with a patch over one of his three eyes, a ring of iron-grey hair around his head, and a moustache of the same colour.

As the students snapped to attention, Sergeant Jegger ran his gaze down the line, counting. Finding every student had arrived, he gave a grunt of approval and continued. “The Xi-Class Privateer: it’s different from anything you’ve ever flown before. With eight neutrino-fuelled LightFast engines, she’s sleek, fast, and powerful: a good ship.”

John raised his hand. “Why are we taking individual ships, sergeant?” he asked. “Why not just go in a shuttle?”

“Headmaster’s orders,” replied Jegger curtly. “Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Security’s tight on Archivus Major, isn’t it?” asked Lishtig, tossing back his purple tail of hair. “Maybe they shoot down any ship that’s big enough to carry serious weapons.”

“Or maybe it’s to prevent the Helvian Mammoths from escaping?” suggested Bareon, huge black eyes blinking in his triangular head.

“More likely so they can tell anyone they don’t like the look of to get lost,” said the rock-like Gobi-san-Art in his deep gravely voice. “Hey, Mordant, ten credits says you don’t last five minutes.”

As Mordant began to retort, Sergeant Jegger’s voice cut him off. “I thought I was running a flying class down here,” he snapped. “Not a gossip morning. Shut your flapping mouths and stand by a ship. On the double!”

All the students knew exactly what the sergeant expected of them. In silence, they each made for the nearest Privateer and stood at the nose of the craft. As he approached a ship, John reached out to touch it. Beneath his fingertips the sleek craft felt like ice. John could see circular vents in the Privateer’s otherwise smooth shell.
The LightFast engines
, he thought to himself. The other students were murmuring excitedly.

“Settle down,” barked Jegger. “I said the Xi-Class Privateer was unlike anything you’ve flown before and I meant it. Completely different controls to the t-darts you’re used to, so I want you to follow my orders very carefully.” The sergeant paused, pacing in front of the ships with his odd gait to make sure that everyone was paying attention. Satisfied, he continued. “Each craft has been programmed to respond to its new pilot. Speak your name to open the cockpit. Get in and fasten your safety harness.”

“John Riley,” said John. A crack instantly appeared in the shell of the ship beside him. Silently, a hatch opened. John stepped in, settling himself into a seat that moulded itself around him. A thin harness dropped from above, its straps moving as if they had a life of their own, fitting neatly around his body.

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.”