Frozen Enemies (6 page)

“At least he’ll have G-Vez to talk to,” Emmie giggled. “Two days will fly by.”

“How come they let him bring the robo-servant anyway? I thought non-vital technology was banned,” John said, biting off a huge chunk. “Mmmm, and
loads
of bacon,” he mumbled, mouth full.

“Non-invasive intrapersonal service technology, certified safe in any environment,” Kaal answered, looking through his own bag. “Oh wow, Flarzworms. Nice one.” He looked up to see John looking at him questioningly. “G-Vez has a containment field,” he explained. “Nothing escapes it. The Omega-bots, too, I’d guess. It makes them as likely to interfere in other technologies as this Flarzworm,” he finished, holding up the wriggling orange worm for John to see.

Face screwed up in revulsion, John turned his head away, to find a sight just as unexpected. Over the Mars Dust Storm building, a Xi-Class Privateer was rising into the air.

The sandwich dropped from his hand. “Hey!” he shouted, getting to his feet and pointing. “Is that who I think it is?”

As John watched the Privateer leave Archivus Major, he heard Lorem shout, “Mordant!”

Shielding his purple eyes from the sun, the headmaster glared at the rapidly disappearing spaceship with a face like thunder. “I will expel him for this,” he said, through clenched teeth.

“It can’t be,” said Ms Vartexia, getting to her feet. “Surely, even Mordant Talliver wouldn’t—”

“It cannot be anyone else,” said Lorem grimly. “We are the only visitors on Archivus Major at present.”

By now, the Privateer was a small dot in the sky. The class watched in silent shock as it disappeared into the upper atmosphere. “Why aren’t the Omego-bots doing something to stop him?” asked John.

The headmaster glanced at him. “Their job is to protect the exhibits,” he said. “Archivus Major’s security systems are designed to stop people from getting in, not from leaving.”

“Did you not see the possibility of this happening, headmaster?” Ms Vartexia asked, sounding confused.

“My visions of the future are not always clear,” he replied, suddenly looking weary. “I sensed that a dangerous situation might develop on Archivus Major – that’s why I came – but I must have been mistaken about the threat. I did not suspect for a second that Mordant Talliver would be the cause.”

“What are we going to do now?” The Elvian teacher was still staring up at the sky. She began wringing her hands with worry.

With a deep sigh, Lorem turned to her. “This is very troublesome,” he said. “But we have no choice. I
must
go after Mordant. Now he has gone, fragments of at least one possible future have fallen into place. I can see quite clearly that if I do not go after him, he will be in life-threatening danger.”

“How will you know where to find him? He could be headed anywhere.”

“I don’t need to look into the future to know he will go straight to planet Plarz, where the Vapourball Championship is being held,” the headmaster replied.

“But what will
we
do?” Ms Vartexia twittered.

The headmaster responded with a stern look. “Why, carry on with the visit of course, Ms Vartexia. The students are in your care. Now, if you will excuse me, the faster I follow, the faster I will find our stray.”

“Yes, but... oh, I mean to say... but, but...”

“You will be fine!” Lorem shouted over his shoulder, as he strode away towards the dock. “Just follow the visitor guidelines and stay together. Remember: it is better to be safe than sorry.”

As the headmaster’s Privateer rose into the sky, the students looked at each other.

“I can’t believe Mordant just did that,” said John.

Lishtig shook his head. “He’s been acting weird since yesterday,” he said. “The Vapourball Championship is all he’s talked about. It’s like he’s totally obssessed.”

“Hijacking a ship during a school trip is crazy, even for
him
,” Bareon said, his enormous, black eyes blinking. “I mean, he’s always breaking rules but he’s sly about it. He almost never gets
caught
doing anything wrong.”

“Look, we all know that Mordant Talliver can be an idiot,” said Emmie. “If he wants to get himself expelled, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. The important thing is that he doesn’t ruin the trip for the rest of us.”

“That’s true,” said Kaal, peering at his ThinScreen. “Forget Mordant. It says here that we’re not far from the Weapons Desert and there’s a Shuttletube that will take us straight there. Sounds good to me.”

“How about the Goran–Subo battleground,” Emmie suggested.

Kaal frowned at her. “Why are you so keen to go to the battleground, Emmie?” he asked. “It’s not like you to be interested in war.”

Emmie shrugged, looking confused for a moment. “I... um... just want to take the photos. Get some extra marks. Besides, it is supposed to be spectacular.”

At that moment, Queelin Temerate snatched the ThinScreen from Kaal’s hands and riffled through the pages. “Wow, there are wild Feershcats and Flurbs in the jungle over there,” she said, looking up with shining eyes. “Let’s go on safari.”

“Isn’t there a spaceship exhibit?” John chipped in. “I’d love to see that.”

Ms Vartexia clapped. “Attention please, class,” she said, sounding nervous.

The students turned to face her. “Can we go to the spaceship exhibit, please?” John asked quickly.

“No, the jungle.”

“I want to see the Floating Pleasure Gardens of Vox Charm.”

“The Star Dragon skeleton.”

“We’ve
got
to go to the Goran–Subo battlefield,” Emmie said urgently.

“We could split up,” Kaal suggested. “That way everyone gets to see what they want.”

“Absolutely not,” said the teacher firmly. “The headmaster instructed us to stay together, and that is exactly what we shall do. That means none of you is leaving my sight.”

“But, Ms Vartexia, why do we have to suffer because Mordant’s been an idiot?”

Ms Vartexia chose not to hear Queelin Temerate’s question. Opening her own guidebook, she said, “Ahh, here’s just the thing: the Rock Gallery.”

“Rock music?” asked John hopefully.

“Rocks and minerals from every corner of the galaxy,” answered the teacher. “It will be excellent for your understanding of galactic heography. Doctor Graal
will
be pleased.”

Her announcement was met by a chorus of groans. “Who cares what Doctor Slobber thinks,” muttered Lishtig.

Only Gobi-san-Art was happy. “I
love
rocks,” he grinned. “Rocks are awesome.”

“That’s settled, then,” said Ms Vartexia, closing the book with a snap. “Follow me to the Shuttletube. Keep together and do not touch
anything
.”

* * *

“Wow: a rock,” said Emmie, standing on a gravel path with her hands on her hips. “It’s just so... so
exactly
the same as the last rock we looked at.”

“Not really,” said Gobi, seriously. “The last rock we looked at was an example of sedimentary histracite. This is taurite containing a vein of mallux.”

Emmie rolled her eyes. “Rock,” she said, pointing at it. Turning, she pointed at the rock next to it. “Rock,” she repeated. “And that, Gobi, is all I know, or ever want to know, about rocks.”

“You’re missing out on some really interesting—”

“Please stop,” Emmie grumped. “I am
so
bored of this. A whole planet stacked with the most amazing stuff in the universe, and we’re staring at some lumps of old rock. What’s wrong with Ms Vartexia?”

“Maybe we should give her a break,” suggested John. “It can’t be easy, being in charge on her own, and you know what she’s like.”

Kaal nodded. “You mean like bringing Earthings back to Hyperspace High instead of Martian princes?” he asked. “That sort of thing?”

“
Exactly
. Accident prone. She’s probably scared that something awful will happen and she’ll lose her job.”

“Hey, you guys,” Lishtig interrupted, running across the gravel and whooping. “I’ve just had a word with Ms Vartexia. She’s got a whole heap of fun lined up for later.”

“
Really
?
” said Emmie, eagerly. “Are we going to the battlefield next?”

“No, but... wait for it... we’re going to the Rare Moss Garden.”

Closing her eyes, Emmie groaned again. “I am going to kill Mordant Talliver,” she whispered.

As the afternoon passed, the class visited one dull exhibit after another.
The only interesting bit is the Shuttletube ride in between
, John though to himself, as he leaned back in his seat. Something like an ultra-modern train, the Shuttletube rocketed at high speed through the clear tubes that snaked across the landscape of Archivus Major. It was an exhilarating ride. The only downside was that the Shuttletube gave the students a clear view of everything they were missing. John had been especially disappointed when the Shuttletube swept past a vast hangar that seemed to cover hundreds of square kilometres. Kaal had leaned over and told him it was the spaceship exhibit.

John was feeling restless and grouchy. He wasn’t alone. In the Rare Moss Garden, the only excitement had been an Omega-bot’s alarm siren going off in Kaal’s ear. The Derrilian had been about to touch a thousand-year-old Pestra Moss while the huge robot guard was right behind him. Its alarm had been so loud that green ooze had leaked from Kaal’s ear, which had meant another uninteresting visit, this time to the medical centre.

The Rare Moss Garden seemed like a rollercoaster of thrills compared to the Chong Gallery, though. The ancient Vyranian artist Javvid Chong had spent his entire career painting pictures of the same small brown moon. At first, John thought the hundreds of artworks, each only slightly different from the next, must be some kind of joke. Ms Vartexia, however, had patiently explained that Chong’s paintings made important statements about art and reality. By the time he had looked at the thirtieth moon painting, John had become certain he was losing his own grip on reality and wondered if this was what the teacher had meant. Fortunately, even Ms Vartexia was quickly bored by the gallery and hustled the class along to the next dreary exhibit.

By the time the sun began to set, John had stopped even looking up when someone pointed out yet another wonder the Shuttletube was passing by. The whole class had long since discovered that there was no point in asking Ms Vartexia to stop; she was obstinately refusing to take them anywhere that might be even slightly dangerous.

“Where next?” John sighed.

“Eh? Pardon?” Kaal leaned in towards him, his ear stuffed with spacecloud wadding. “What was that?’

“I said,
where next
?” John yelled, thinking that talking to Kaal had suddenly become very much like talking to his grandfather.

The Derrilian shrugged. “Gave up caring at the moss place,” he answered.

“I’m hungry,” said John.

“What?”

“I’M
HUNGRY
!
”

Further down the Shuttletube, Ms Vartexia broke off a conversation she had been having with Werril, and looked over at them. “There’s no need to shout, John Riley,” she said primly. “As it happens,” she continued, “we are now on our way to Optical Orbit, the restaurant where we will be eating tonight. I am told it is quite a treat.”

“Thank goodness,” said Emmie. “Food, then bed, and then only one more day of this nightmare to get through.”

John grunted in agreement. Sitting back, he watched as the scenery turned to ice and snow and the sun went down over Archivus Major.

“This is more
like
it,” he whistled ten minutes later. The Shuttletube had stopped at the front gates of a crystal sphere the size of a palace. It twinkled with the reflected light of Archivus Major’s twin moons.

“Optical Orbit,” announced the Shuttletube’s automatic voice.

Ms Vartexia led the way up a wide staircase to the perfectly circular door. “It’s one of the most famous restaurants in the universe,” she said.

Inside, John gazed around in wonder.

“Sheesh,” hissed Emmie beside him. “My dad’s taken me to some fancy restaurants but I’ve never seen anything like
this
.”

At the far end of the entrance hall, a fire of pure blue flame roared in a magnificent fireplace. On either side, sweeping staircases climbed to a gallery that circled the great room. A mind-twisting light show moved across the spherical walls, while glowing orbs rose and fell to the beat.
It’s like being in a giant lava lamp
, John thought.

“This place is incredible,” he said out loud, nudging Kaal.

“Eh? What?” his friend replied. “You think the plates are
inedible
?”

John was so busy staring around, he didn’t notice the silver trolley rolling across the floor until it stopped right in front of the group.

“Good evening, honoured guests” the box-on-wheels said in a high-pitched voice. “You must be the party from Hyperspace High.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Ms Vartexia nodded. “I believe we have a table booked, but I’m afraid we are missing two of our group.”

“That is quite all right,” the trolley replied. “You are the only visiting party on the planet at the moment and we have arranged everything for your supreme enjoyment. Please, follow me.”

Turning away, the trolley-waiter trundled across the floor to a large, round table surrounded by MorphSeats and set for eighteen. In the centre was another crystal ball that looked like a smaller version of the restaurant itself. Blobs of coloured light moved through it.

Small name cards told each student where to sit. Silently, another trolley rolled forward. A hatch opened in its side and long metal arms emerged, removing two of the place settings.

“They’ve really thought about this,” John whispered to Emmie, as he looked around the table. In front of him was a place setting that included a knife, fork, and spoon. Emmie’s had the metal prong that Sillarans used for eating. Kaal’s had the Derrilian tarb, which looked like a cross between a large spoon and a fork.

“Thank you for noticing,” purred the waiter. Its own metal arm emerged and the machine clicked its fingers. Instantly, words appeared in the air above John’s plate: the menu. “At Optical Orbit we pride ourselves on providing the perfect dining experience for every guest,” the trolley told him. “Everything must be just so.”

Glancing at the menu, John started with surprise. It listed all his favourite foods: spare ribs, cheeseburger, sweet and sour chicken, lasagne, and more. In the side-order section he found fries, onion rings, coleslaw: again, everything he loved. “How did you—” he began.

The trolley made a noise that sounded to John like a titter. “We have our ways, sir,” it said.

“Cool, they have Derrilian Colca,” said Kaal, as the waiter rolled away. “And Nish Crab, and... hey, it’s all my favourite things.”

“Mine, too,” said Emmie. “How do they do that?”

“Most likely they take information from Archivus Major’s DNA scanners and cross-reference it to a database of your home planet’s most popular meals,” explained Lishtig. “Look, I’ve got Trilbean Stew on my menu. I’m the only person on Slarce who
hates
Trilbean Stew.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” said the trolley-waiter, returning to the table. “There’s been a mistake.” It snapped its metal fingers again. The words over Lishtig’s place-setting changed. “That menu was for a Slarcian visitor we had last week. “This one,” he chuckled, placing a new menu in front of Listhig, “has Lormfry instead of Trilbean Stew.”

“But... but Lormfry’s my
absolute
favourite,” spluttered Lishtig.

“We know, sir. We know. Now, may I take your orders?”

After changing his mind at least thirty times, John finally decided on spare ribs, followed by macaroni cheese, with sticky toffee pudding as a dessert. At the end of the meal, he leaned back in his MorphSeat, patting his stomach. “That was the best food I’ve had since I left Earth,” he said happily. “I mean, the canteen on Hyperspace High’s not bad, but that sticky toffee pudding was the best ever.”

“Thank you, sir,” the trolley-waiter replied, taking John’s empty plate and adding it to a teetering pile on the top of its flat surface. “I shall pass your compliments to the robo-chef.”

“Have you seen Ms Vartexia?” whispered Emmie. She nodded across the table, where the teacher was huddled over a large bowl of blue Elvian spaghetti. “That’s her third bowl.”

“For someone so thin, she really loves her food,” replied John. He watched in awe as Ms Vartexia shovelled in another mouthful. “Look, she’s calling the waiter over. She can’t be asking for another bowl... whoa! She
is
, too.”

Kaal leaned in, turning his good ear towards John to find out what he and Emmie were whispering about. “I’ve never seen an Elvian eat like that,” he told them. “Normally, an Elvian portion size wouldn’t be big enough to feed a Derrilian Smallworm.”

Eventually, however, Ms Vartexia managed to fill herself. “Now,” squeaked the waiter as he took her empty bowl, “we have organized a special event for our guests from Hyperspace High: a private show by Great Red Spot.”

“What on Earth is this?” said John, baffled. A small stage had been set up. Four gently glimmering balls of gas hovered there. Twanging, high-pitched noises filled the air. He couldn’t see how the sounds were being made.

“It’s music,” hissed Emmie.

“Are you sure?”

Emmie stared at him. “Of course I’m sure. Don’t you have music on your planet?” Before John could answer, she continued, “Great Red Spot are fab. I love this song, it’s called ‘Take Me to Your Leader’.”

“Shouldn’t it have, you know, a tune?”

“A tune? How very primiti— old-fashioned,” Emmie said, smiling. “Let me guess, on Earth the musicians play hollowed out logs with the bones of their enemies, right?”

“On Earth, the musicians play music you can actually dance to,” John retorted. He looked at Kaal for support. Since they had started sharing a room, Kaal had heard a lot of the Earth music that John and Zepp both loved.

Kaal was no help at all. The Derrilian was standing and holding out a hand to Emmie. “Come on, Tarz,” he said. “Let’s show the Earthling how to dance.”

John almost choked with laughter as the two of them hit the flashing dance floor. Kaal, wings outstretched, looked like he was treading across hot coals. Every so often he would leap in the air, yowling. Emmie, meanwhile, simply lifted one leg in the air and hopped up and down while flapping her hands. Thinking they must be kidding around, he looked around the table, but no one else was laughing. In fact, more of the students were now getting up and joining Kaal and Emmie. As John spluttered in disbelief, Bareon bent over until he was clutching his own ankles and started shaking his backside in the air.

“Are you not dancing, John Riley?”

Biting back fresh gales of laughter, John looked across the table to see Ms Vartexia looking at him. Covering her mouth, she burped. “Excuse me. As I was about to say: we Elvians do not dance – we don’t have the knees for it – but I believe it is a pleasurable experience. Why don’t you join your classmates?”

John opened his mouth to tell her that his classmates looked ridiculous and the music was dreadful. Then he stopped himself.
Why not
, he thought.
If you can’t beat them, join them
.

“Show us some Earth dancing!” Emmie shouted over the music as John arrived on the dance floor.

Trying not to giggle, he struck a pose he’d once seen in an old movie called
Saturday Night Fever
. Spinning on the spot, he found a beat somewhere in the bizarre music and began dancing like an old Russian Cossack. Arms folded, he squatted close to the floor, kicking his legs out as quickly as he could.

“Wow!” shouted Emmie. “Great moves. You Earthlings can
really
dance.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” John replied. Raising his arms, he tried a new move over the polished floor.

Lishtig stared at him, jaw hanging open. “B-but it looks like you’re walking forward when you’re actually going b-backward,” he gasped.

“Yeah, on Earth we call it the Moonwalk,” grinned John.

“But that’s just silly!” yelled Kaal over the music. “Moons generally have a lower gravitational force than most planets, so a ‘moonwalk’ would look more like this...” he leaped into the air, making large, slow movements.

John rolled his eyes. “It’s just a name, Kaal!” he called back. “Like breakdancing. We don’t actually break anything.”

He dropped, showing off some basic street dance moves he’d learned at his last school. This brought him a round of applause. Even Ms Vartexia, who was slumped back in her seat looking a little ill, clapped politely.

The sillier and more outrageous John’s dancing became, the more he impressed his classmates. While Great Red Spot bobbed on stage, John found himself at the centre of a cheering circle.

“You didn’t tell me you were such a great dancer,” Emmie gasped, as the band finished their last song and floated away. “You could be a professional.”

John grinned, certain she must be pulling his leg, but as he looked into her navy-blue eyes he realized that the beautiful Sillaran was deadly serious. “We Earthlings are naturally talented like that,” he replied, trying not to burst out laughing again.

Emmie nodded enthusiastically. “Can you teach me some of those moves when we get back to Hyperspace High?”

John was about to agree, when Ms Vartexia interrupted. “Time for bed,” she said weakly. “Lots to do tomorrow.”

The Hyperspace History teacher was swaying slightly and her blue skin had a greenish tinge.

“But it’s still early,” groaned Kaal.

John shushed him. “If we keep her happy, maybe she’ll let us visit more interesting exhibits tomorrow,” he said.

“I’m tired anyway,” Emmie yawned. “It’s been a long day. I could do with some sleep.”

The Shuttletube ride back to the space port passed quietly, except for Ms Vartexia’s frequent burps and embarrassed apologies. Soon, John was back in his Privateer. At the touch of a button, the MorphSeat transformed itself into a comfortable bed. In a small locker, he found a light cover and pillow. A panel slid back at the rear of the ship to reveal a small sink and toilet. As he began changing into his pyjamas, John worried about the transparent shell of the ship. People could see him! Then he remembered that from the outside, the hull was opaque. After changing, John stretched out, feeling the MorphSeat warming beneath him.

“Not bad, eh?” Kaal’s voice said through the intercom.

“Very comfy,” John agreed.

“Reminds me of a Derrilian joke: two explorers are camping on a planet they’ve just discovered. One turns to the other and says, ‘Can you hear something?’ The other looks up and says, ‘Only your feet.’”

There was a pause.

“Yes, and then what?” John asked eventually.

“That’s it. That’s the joke.”

“Oh, right—”

“Brilliant!” John’s answer was drowned out by Emmie’s hysterical laughter. “That’s so funny. Do you want to hear a Sillaran gag?”

“Go on, then.”

“A Sillaran high priest visits a space station. At the entry port is a Vesuvian Burbeast. ‘Hello,’ says the high priest, ‘there’s a holy relic named after you.’ The Burbeast looks at the priest and says, ‘What: Jartex?’”

This time both Kaal and Emmie howled with laughter.

“W-w-why aren’t you l-laughing, John?” Kaal finally managed to choke through his howls. “That’s
hilarious
.”

“Are Earth jokes as good as Earth dancing?” Emmie asked. “Tell us one.”

“Yeah, let’s hear an Earth joke.”

“OK,” John replied. “Two cannibals are eating a clown. One turns to the other and says, ‘Does this taste funny to you?’”

There was a long silence.

“Still, at least Earthlings are good dancers,” said Emmie with pity in her voice.

All three of them found this funnier than any of the jokes. It set off a giggling fit that lasted long after they should have been asleep. Eventually, however, Emmie’s yawns came more and more often and she finally dropped out of the conversation. Before long, John heard the unmistakable grunts and horrible grinding noises of his Derrilian roommate’s snores. Quickly, he reached out and switched off the intercom.

Looking up through the transparent shell of the small spaceship, he watched the twin moons and stars of the alien sky. All in all, he decided, it had been a pretty good day. He had walked through a Martian dust storm and discovered a secret about the history of his own planet. The evening at Optical Orbit had been fantastic. As his eyes closed, John wondered what fun the next day might bring.