Frozen Enemies (9 page)

Time seemed to slow down. A thousand memories chased through John’s mind. Thoughts of his parents and friends, home: all the things he would never see again.

The moment seeemed to stretch. John had heard that people in terrible danger often reported later that their entire lives had flashed before their eyes. He hadn’t expected the experience would take so long, though. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the mauling he was sure would begin at any moment.

“John! John! Are you all right?” It was Emmie’s voice, shouting from a distance.

An unbelievable sight met his eyes as they blinked open: the Goran and Subo were moving backward.

Adrenalin surged through him. Surely the beasts were only readying themselves for a fresh attack. “
Cowards
!
” he yelled, swinging the laser-horn. “Come on, let’s finish this.”

Still, the creatures moved away. John frowned. There was something odd about their movements. The way they were backing off looked like someone had pressed “rewind” on an old video player.

Kaal landed by his side. “It’s OK,” the Derrilian said gently, dodging to avoid the weapon John was still whipping around dangerously. “You can put that down now. I think I sorted it.”

“W-what?” John stared at his friend, unable to grasp what he was hearing. Every part of him was ready for a fight to the death:
his
death.

“Please, drop it before you take someone’s eye out.”

Unwilling to let go of his only weapon, John’s fingers stayed clenched around it, though he stopped waving it around.

“What are you saying?” John demanded.

Emmie waded over to join them. “It’s over,” she panted. “Kaal did it. Thanks to you.” She flung her arms around him, sobbing. “I thought you were going to die.”

At last, John dropped the laser-horn. Returning Emmie’s fierce hug, he looked over her head at Kaal. “I-I d-don’t understand,” he stammered.

“Look around.”

John turned his head. The Goran had backed into the battle and now appeared to be bringing a Subo back to life. As its pincers touched the Subo, its enemy’s wounds closed. The Subo looked healthier with every moment and was now thrashing wildly. Bursts of light erupted from blackened holes in the Goran’s shell and disappeared into the tip of its laser-horn, leaving the Goran untouched.

He looked the other way. The Subo that had attacked them seemed to be performing some kind of dance. John watched as it flopped backward through the mud. It turned, roaring at the place by the Omega-bots’ force field where John had been standing a few moments earlier, then continued its backward shuffle. It was still for a moment, then reared up, snapping at an invisible opponent.

Behind the force field, John could see Hyperspace High students leaping in the air with joy.

John glanced down. Water, too, was flowing in reverse. His eyes followed it. The stasis cube was beginning to reform. Subo and Goran were skittering backward across the ice, lines of warriors hurling themselves away from each other to take up their original positions. Explosions became implosions, fiery blossoms closing with a strange roar that was suddenly silenced.

“How?” John asked.

Kaal held up the Comet Creative. “Simple,” he said. “Although not
that
simple, even if I say so myself. At first I thought the device must be an anti-stasis emitter that reverses the polarity of the suspension particles at a quantum level, but actually it’s more sophisticated than that. It sends out a highly charged temporal field that attaches itself to anything with a stasis signature...”

John listened as Kaal reeled off technical information that meant nothing to him. “Any chance you can repeat all that in words I might actually understand?” he cut in when the Derrilian took a breath.

Kaal grinned. “The Comet Creative created a time field that took the stasis cube and everything in it back to a moment just before it was created, thirty thousand years ago,” he explained. “Whoever made it disabled the function that would allow it to be reversed. Once I knew what it was, it was a pretty easy repair job.”

“
Pretty easy
?
” John gaped. “A
pretty easy
repair job? Where did you learn to do something like that?”

“Hyperspace High
is
the best school in the galaxy,” Kaal said, shrugging.

“So how come we’re not going backward too?” asked Emmie, watching in fascination as water ran up the sides of the stasis cube. It was quieter now. Only a few Goran and Subo were making their reverse battle cries. The rest had disappeared under ice. The water was rapidly disappearing.

“We weren’t in the cube,” Kaal replied. “The field only interfered with anything that was originally held in stasis.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” John said, shaking his head.

Kaal slapped him on the shoulder. “Well,” he grinned. “If you didn’t fall asleep in lessons all the time, you’d—”

He didn’t make it to the end of the sentence. The three friends were suddenly mobbed by the rest of the class.

“Chang-do’s Holy Bath Tub! Are you guys all right?” yelled Lishtig. “I thought you were goners for sure.”

“That Goran had its claws right round your neck, John,” Werril bellowed in his ear. “Right round your
neck
. I couldn’t even look.”

“You were
brilliant
,” Queelin shouted over the yells of relief and congratulations. “The way you took on both of those horrible things—”

“Hey, it was Kaal who fixed everything,” John interrupted.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to fix anything if Emmie hadn’t rescued me from the water,” Kaal replied, looking embarrassed.

A loud electronic voice interrupted the excitement. “Visit terminated. Return to the space dock and leave the planet immediately.”

The class looked round. They were surrounded by Omega-bots.

John broke the silence. After the terrors he had just experienced, the menacing droids of Archivus Major didn’t seem all that frightening. “Actually, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” he said. “Plus, Ms Vartexia should be waking up right about now.”

“Thank goodness she wasn’t here,” said Emmie. “She’d have had a double heart attack.”

As the class began walking back to the Shuttletube, escorted by what looked like 100 Omega-bots, John noticed a fleck of red in the mud. He bent to pick it up.

“What’s that?” asked Kaal, leaning over his shoulder for a better look.

“Piece of the Goran’s claw I broke off,” John told him, turning it between his fingers. “It didn’t make it back into the stasis cube.”

“Nice souvenir.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” John tucked it his pocket.

* * *

“Goodness me!” screeched Ms Vartexia, as she opened her eyes to see the entire class peering at her. “What time is it? Have I missed breakfast?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Bareon cheerfully. “Lunch, too.”

The Hyperspace History teacher looked aghast. “You mean I’ve been asleep half the day?” she blurted. “How on Elvar did that happen? Where have you all been? Why did no one wake me? What are those Omega-bots doing here?”

“One question at a time,” replied Bareon soothingly. “Everyone is fine. We tried to wake you but you must have eaten too much Elvian spaghetti last night.”

Hiding at the back of the group with Kaal and Emmie, so that the teacher couldn’t see their torn, mud-stained clothing, John grinned. Bareon had cleverly avoided Ms Vartexia’s questions about the Omega-bots by reminding her of her own mistake. He watched as the Elvian’s face turned green.

“Too much spaghetti? Oh no, it can’t have been that. I only had—”

“Four bowls,” Queenlin supplied.

Ms Vartexia flushed an even deeper green.
An Elvian blush
, John guessed.

“I don’t know what came over me. Well, perhaps we should all head back to Hyperspace High before something awful happens. I am sorry, you must have had a terribly boring morning.”

“Yes, Ms Vartexia,” the class chorused.

* * *

One by one the Privateers swept into space. Yesterday seemed a million years ago, as did the nerves John had suffered over his take-off and landing. Now, he executed a perfect exit from the planet’s atmosphere without thinking about it. His mind was on something else. As the small spaceships cleared the web of security satellites orbiting Archivus Major, he activated a communications channel to Kaal and Emmie’s ships. “I can’t stop thinking there is something really weird about Graximus Greyfore,” he said abruptly.

“You said something about him planning the whole thing earlier,” Emmie answered. “I wasn’t really listening, though. Sorry, I was scared out of my mind at the time.”

“I was wondering about it, too,” said Kaal. “The Comet Creative looked like a 4-D camera on the outside but there was no image capture technology inside at all.”

“Why would the curator want to unfreeze a whole battle, though?” Emmie asked. “I mean, did you see what that Subo’s laser did to the Omega-bot? It wouldn’t have taken long for either army to break through the force field and then—”

All three of them were quiet for a moment, thinking about what might have happened if the warring Goran and Subo had broken free.

“It
might
have been a mistake,” said Kaal eventually. “These things happen. Maybe he’s like Ms Vartexia. Perhaps he gave Emmie the wrong device by accident.”

“No, I’m certain he planned it,” said John firmly. “He told Emmie she would get extra marks, but how could he make a promise like that if it was a secret from Ms Vartexia and Lorem? Plus, he was very keen to recommend the Elvian spaghetti to Ms Vartexia.”

“
And
he told Mordant that the Vapourball Championship was on a planet close to Archivus Major,” Kaal said thoughtfully.

“So, everything that went wrong can be traced back to Graximus Greyfore,” said John. “But Emmie’s right:
why
?
Why would the curator try and wreck his most famous exhibit?”

“Unless Graximus Greyfore isn’t everything he seems,” said Kaal.

Silence descended again. Stars and planets swept by, but this time none of them bothered to look. Each was lost in their own thoughts, as their ships powered through space.

After a minute had passed, Emmie sighed. “Do you think this means I
won’t
get extra marks?”

“So, I guess we should tell Ms Vartexia what
really
happened on Archivus Major before we get back,” said John. As the words left his mouth, a light flashed on the Privateer’s display skin.

“Emergency distress beacon detected at coordinates eighty-four point twelve point eight two zero,” the computer announced. “A point-three FTL Jet. Identity codes confirm it is an Archivus Major craft. Instructions?”

Instantly, John forgot about Graximus Greyfore and the Comet Creative. He didn’t hesitate. During Space Flight Theory lessons, Sergeant Jegger had drummed emergency procedures into his students. Every pilot knew that a ship in trouble should be approached with extreme caution. Putting aside all other thoughts, John immediately began the procedures Jegger had taught. “Scan for weapons, engine efficiency, and signs of damage,” he said automatically. “Establish a communication channel, code one, and prepare to intercept. Magnify.”

An image of a clunky-looking white spaceship with Archivus Major markings appeared on the screen. “Intercept course plotted,” said the computer. “No weapons. Engines and communication systems inoperative. Distress call level alpha.”

Opening a new channel, John said, “Ms Vartexia, I’m receiving a distress call. A ship from Archivus Major.”

“We are all picking up the same signal,” Ms Vartexia replied. Her voice sounded clipped and efficient but, beneath, John heard a quiver of worry. He knew what was causing it. Without communications, there was no way of knowing what had happened aboard the distressed ship. Whatever it was might put the students in danger. But every pilot in the galaxy knew that a distress beacon could not be ignored. Seriously injured beings might be on-board.

Ms Vartexia appeared to reach a decision. Sounding more sure of herself, she began to give orders: “John Riley, you are two minutes closer than the next ship. Proceed to the coordinates and lock onto the craft with your tractor beam. Take it directly to Hyperspace High. The rest of us will take formation beta twelve around you and escort you in. All craft maintain a continuous scan. Keep communication channels open. At the slightest sign of unusual activity, every ship is to leave the vicinity of the damaged vessel immediately. Clear?”

“Yes, Ms Vartexia.” Switching navigation to manual, John increased his speed and turned away on a new heading. Within a few minutes, he no longer needed the magnified image of the crippled ship. It was dead ahead: a slowly spinning spaceship larger than the Privateer. It reminded John of a large camper van.

Cutting speed, he took his ship close. There was no sign of life and no clue to what had happened inside. Carefully, he turned the Privateer and brought it to a complete stop.

“Computer: tractor the distressed ship on my mark.
Go
.”

“Tractor beam engaged.”

John looked over his shoulder. The Archivus Major ship had stopped spinning. It was held fast by a glowing white energy field. “Maintain constant scan and set course for Hyperspace High. Maximum speed.”

“Affirmative.”

Ms Vartexia and the rest of the class brought their ships into tight formation around him. All communication channels stayed open but there was a tense silence as John pulled the mysterious ship through space.

* * *

“Approaching Hyperspace High,” the computer reported.

Ahead was the elegant sweep of Hyperspace High, blazing with light. With a slight shock, John realized how happy and relieved he was to see the colossal ship: it was almost like coming home. But the feeling faded quickly, replaced instead by alarm. Soon he would have to land the Privateer, and he would have to do so with another ship in tow. He gulped nervously.

Alarm swiftly started turning to panic as he neared Hyperspace High. The open bay doors looked like the eye of a needle. Far too small to get a spaceship through.

Sergeant Jegger’s voice came through the intercom. As if he was reading John’s mind, the flight instructor said, “You’re going to be fine, cadet. I’ll talk you through the approach. On my command, cut your speed...”

Following Jegger’s instructions closely, John brought the Privateer round for a run into Hyperspace High’s main hangar. Gritting his teeth, he flew dead centre through the bay door, checking over his shoulder that the Archivus Major ship was still behind him.

Landing two ships was tricky. As the little Privateer dragged the larger aircraft behind it, John felt like he was trying to pilot a whale. Bumping to the ground, John felt the distressed ship smack into the deck behind him.

“Not perfect, but good enough. Well done, cadet,” said Jegger. “Stand by for compression.”

Once the other students had also landed their ships, the massive bay door slid shut. As the hangar deck filled with air, several doors opened at once. The headmaster walked through one, Jegger at his side, both looking stern. A medical team came through another, while Examiners swarmed in from the rest. John had never seen so many Examiners in one place. Like the Omega-bots on Archivus Major, each robot immediately formed a protective ring around the mysterious ship.

John climbed out of his Privateer without taking his eyes off the craft he had just towed from deep space.

“Keep back,” said Lorem, as John walked towards it. He nodded at the headmaster and stepped back a pace or two. Kaal and Emmie fell in behind him, both gazing at the Archivus Major ship.

Its door opened with a hiss.

A short figure staggered onto the deck. “Help. P-p-p-lease
help
!” yelled Graximus Greyfore, reaching his stubby hands towards the headmaster. “I have been—”

“It was him!” John shouted. Unable to contain himself, he ran towards the curator. “He used us to sabotage the Goran–Subo battlefield.”

“He nearly got us all killed!” shouted Kaal, rushing forward to join his friend.

“Why did you give me the Comet Creative?” demanded Emmie. “Why did you want to free the Subo and Goran warriors?”

“What?” squealed Ms Vartexia. “What is everyone talking about?”

“John Riley, explain,” said Lorem quickly.

“Three days ago in the lecture hall Greyfore gave Emmie a camera – he called it the Comet Creative – and told Emmie to take photos of the Goran–Subo battlefield,” replied John. “But when she used it, the stasis cube melted and the Goran and Subo began fighting again.”

Surrounded by Examiners, Greyfore looked around in confusion. The whole class began talking, all trying to tell the story at once.

The headmaster clapped his hands. “Silence,” he said in a voice that could not be disobeyed. “Continue, John.”

John took a deep breath. Suddenly everything was becoming clear. “Headmaster,” he said. “When Graximus Greyfore visited Hyperspace High, he requested the Holo-registrations so that you would have to leave the room. While you were gone, he somehow made people do what he wanted in order for the Goran and Subo to be freed from stasis.”

“But I don’t understand. That couldn’t have happened. I just fell asleep for a little while,” said Ms Vartexia, sounding faint.

“It’s all true,” said John firmly. “Ask him,” he said, pointing at the curator again.

“Perhaps we
should
hear what Graximus Greyfore has to say.” Turning to the curator, the headmaster lifted an eyebrow. “Well, Greyfore?”

“I d-didn’t do a-anything,” stammered the little alien.

“You deliberately told me to eat the Elvian spaghetti at Optical Orbit, knowing it might keep me unconscious for hours,” said Ms Vartexia in a thoughtful voice. “Now that I think about it, that
was
strange. I don’t particularly like Elvian spaghetti, but it was as if I couldn’t see anything else on the menu. Once I started eating it, I just couldn’t stop.”

“And you made sure that Mordant Talliver knew the Vapourball Championship was being held nearby,” added Kaal.

Lorem’s purple eyes widened. “Of course, that meant I would have to go after him, leaving the rest of the students unprotected.”

Pausing for a moment, Lorem gave Graximus Greyfore a chilly stare. “With myself and Ms Vartexia unable to help, you made sure that once the Goran and Subo broke free from stasis, the class would be caught up in the battle. They would be killed, leaving no survivors to point the finger at you. Fortunately, it seems that my students were braver and more resourceful than you could have imagined. But how did you do it, Greyfore? And more importantly: why?”

At last the curator found his voice. “P-please listen,” he choked. “It-it wasn’t m-me.”

The shouting began again. Lorem held up his hand, a strange look on his face. “Go on,” he said. “I could sense that
something
was going to happen on Archivus Major, but my visions of the future are sometimes... unclear.”

“It w-w-wasn’t me,” Graximus Greyfore insisted, his voice sounding a little steadier. “None of it.” The curator took a deep breath. “I was on my way to Hyperspace High when my ship was hijacked by a Subo craft. Before I could call for help, a Subo came aboard. He called himself Supretus VI and used a machine he had developed – an Xogram Impersonator – to take a sample of my DNA.”

“An Xogram Impersonator,” whispered Lorem. “But DNA-modifying technology is forbidden throughout the galaxy.”

“Then... th-then...” Greyfore stuttered to a stop, a look of horror crossing his blotched face.

“And then?” the headmaster prompted.

“And then he turned into
me
. R-r-right in front of my eyes.”

“So, you’re saying that the Graximus Greyfore who came here was an impostor?” Lorem looked doubtful.

The curator nodded eagerly. “Yes. Not me at all,” he babbled.

“But why? Why go to all that trouble?”

“Supretus is a direct descendant of General Klort. For thirty thousand years his family has seen it as a dishonour that she was denied a victory over the Goran. He wanted to free his ancestor and restart the war. Supretus had a small hypnosis device that fitted into the palm of his hand. He bragged to me that when he touched someone with it, they would do whatever he suggested.”

“What a load of nonsense.”

A gasp ran around the hangar deck. Standing in the doorway of the Archivus Major ship was another Graximus Greyfore. This one was holding his head as if he was in pain. As everyone watched, he raised a hand and pointed to the first Greyfore, standing before the headmaster.

“It was
him
!” the new Greyfore said in a much deeper voice. “
He
is Supretus. He kidnapped
me
. I was tied up for days but I managed to free myself, disable the ship, and set off the distress beacon. In his rage, he knocked me unconscious.”

The first Greyfore stamped his foot in fury. “
L-l-liar
!
” he screamed. “You imprisoned me in my own sh-ship while you impersonated me in H-hyperspace High! Th-thank g-goodness that when you returned, I m-m-managed to overpower
you
and stopped you from getting back to Suboran. I don’t know h-h-how much longer I could have m-m-managed if no one had answered my distress b-beacon.”

“
You
are the liar. If I hadn’t stopped you—”

“Enough,” commanded Lorem, holding up his hand. “There is an easy way to settle this. Examiners.”

“Wai—”

The second Greyfore’s shout was silenced as Examiners moved forward. Green light flickered. Both curators were immediately held fast in a force field.

Red beams scanned the two short aliens.

“DNA scan complete. Identified. Graximus Greyfore of planet Dorfius t-Char. Head Curator of Archivus Major,” droned one of the white robots.

“Unidentified Subo. DNA modified. Reverting,” droned another.

John stared. Around him, students took a step back. Ms Vartexia yelped in shock.

Where the second Greyfore had been standing was suddenly a Subo. Surrounded by a green haze, it could not move but still looked as fearsome as its ancient cousins had on Archivus Major. Its mouth, lined with sharp teeth, was open wide and its laser-horn was lowered, ready to fire a deadly blast.

A green light flashed. The Subo roared in frustrated rage. “Suboran should have won the war!” he raged in a deep voice. “Klort was robbed of victory. The Subo are the rightful rulers of the galaxy.”

“Enough of this madness,” said Lorem quietly.

A green light flickered again. The Subo was silenced.

“Intergalactic code violation,” droned one of the Examiners. “Supretus VI, you impersonated Graximus Greyfore to start a war. You placed Hyperspace High students’ lives in danger. Punishment: expulsion.”

John’s remembered the same punishment had been given to him upon his arrival at Hyperspace High. He also remembered what happened next.

“Proceed to airlock three.”

A door opened. The Examiners’ force field effortlessly lifted the Subo from the ground. The creature floated across the deck and disappeared inside the airlock.

“Expulsion code eight five six three,” droned the Examiner.

“Decompression in five seconds,” replied a deeper voice. “Four... three... two... one.”

The last time John had heard these words, it had been him in the airlock. Then, Lorem had intervened at the last second. Now, the headmaster stood perfectly still, his face stoney.

Underneath the calm, he’s angry
, John thought to himself.
Absolutely furious.

Horrified and fascinated at the same time, John watched through the airlock’s small window. He heard a faint hiss, followed by a rushing sound as the oxygen in the airlock was snatched out into space.

With it went the screaming Subo, its scream dying as it disappeared into the void.