Galactic Battle (12 page)

Once again, he wished he'd never been chosen as team leader. It wasn't fun being the person in charge of doing the impossible.

“So!” said Kaal's dad, as they sat down to breakfast. “Kaal tells me you're his team leader!”

Great timing,
John thought. “That's right, Mr. Tartaru.”

“Please. You must call me Vorn. And Kaal's mother is Dulâna.”

The food — most of it looking like multicolored seaweed — came humming up through holes that opened in the table, and all the Derrilians tucked in. Luckily, Zepp provided John with a bowl of cornflakes.

“So who's the leader of your planet, John?” Kaal's mother asked.

“M-o-o-om,” said Kaal. “Come on. Don't pester him.”

“I'm not pestering at all, I'm simply curious. I'm sure John doesn't mind, do you, dear? Now, do you have a robotic overseer, or do you use global telepathy to select your planetary leader?”

“We don't actually have one leader for the whole planet,” John explained. “All the different countries have their own leader.”

Kaal's mother almost choked on her food. “How . . . what . . . really? Every country for itself?”

“Pretty much.”

“That's madness!” Kaal's mother said. “Anarchy! No wonder you haven't developed interstellar travel yet!”

“Now you've done it,” Kulvi said. “She'll offer to come and run your planet for you, just you wait.”

“Now then, Dulâna,” said Kaal's dad. “Different worlds have different cultures, and we have to respect them — even if they seem strange to us.”

“I just feel sorry for the poor things!” Kaal's mother protested.

“Well, I think Earth sounds great,” Kulvi said. “Shame we can't go there for a vacation. Some of their life forms look delicious.”

Once breakfast had been chomped, slurped, and noisily chewed, John and Kaal stood up.

“We need to meet up with the rest of the team,” John explained. “Dress rehearsal's in ten minutes.”

“Good luck, boys,” said Kaal's father. “We'll see you on stage later!”

An idea was bubbling up in John's mind. Kaal's family were all very different, but they all had something special to offer. Vorn was firm and fair, Dulâna was hyper-organized and efficient, Kulvi was funny . . . and nobody tried to be everything at once. In a way, they reminded him of his team.

Maybe this was the answer he'd been looking for . . .

There was just enough time to change into their special lightspeed suits — flashier, silver versions of their battle suits, with neon yellow triangles on the chest — before meeting the others in the Junkyard to collect their weapons. Everyone had been supplied with a bright yellow belt, a clip for a LaserPro, and containers for thermal pellets, plus a back-slung quiver to hold plenty of SonicArrows.

Kritta's injured foot was freshly healed (the Meteor Medics and their nano-surgeons had taken care of that), and Tarope's skin was all where it was supposed to be, with none of it melting off.

Nonetheless, the team met his gaze with anxious eyes. They were obviously as worried as he had been.

“Should we all get these belts and quivers on?” Kritta asked.

“Hold on a sec first,” John said. “Change of plans. From now on, everyone's going to stick to the weapon they're best with.”

“But didn't Ton-3 say we had to use all three?” Dyfi asked.

“The team has to use all three,” John explained. “But it doesn't say we each have to. So, Monix, you and Kaal are on LaserPros. Dyfi, you and me will take the Hot Shots. Tarope and Kritta, you can work your magic with the SonicArrows. That sound good to everyone?”

“It sounds better than good!” Tarope said. “Getting us all to play to our strengths — it's so obvious!”

“Why didn't we think of that?” Kritta said, frustrated.

“Maybe we just needed someone to point out the obvious,” Monix said with a crooked smile. John thought she sounded almost proud of him.

“So, what are we waiting for?” he yelled. “Let's tool up, and get ready to kick some Defendroid butt!”

John took the lead, as the team picked up their weapons and charged excitedly out of the Technology classroom and down the hallway. A little squirrel-like alien covered in rubbery spikes squeaked and dived for cover as they approached, wielding their LaserPros, Hot Shots, and SonicArrows. Crowds up ahead parted to let them through.

I hope none of the parents think the ship's under attack,
John thought as they sprinted past.

The team came to a bridge spanning the botanical sector. Huge green growths and twitching extraterrestrial plants lay beneath, safe within hydroponic enclosures. John could hear the other team members stampeding behind him.

Then he saw it — the white form of an Examiner, moving toward him from the other end of the bridge. John and the others came to a sudden scrambling halt in the middle.

“WARNING,” said the Examiner ominously. “RUNNING IN THE CORRIDORS IS PROHIBITED. NO FURTHER WARNING WILL BE ISSUED. A SECOND OFFENSE WILL RESULT IN DETENTION.”

As it glided away, Kaal and John looked at one another.

“Another detention and we're out!” Kaal said. “We can't risk it!”

“Okay, everyone,” John said. “No more running. Just walk very fast.”

As briskly as they dared, they continued to hurry along. Puzzled faces turned to look at them, but John didn't care anymore.

There'll be a lot more people looking at us tonight,
he thought,
and that's what's important.

“Finally!” John said as they reached the Sonic Sports Hall. He punched in the codes and then led the team inside. “Okay, let's get this set up. We're going to need star targets for the Hot Shots, dummy Defendroids for the SonicArrows, and a fenced-off sparring arena for the LaserPros.”

The team set to work, arranging the equipment.

Tarope hesitated. “Since this is dress rehearsal, shouldn't we be fighting the real Defendroids now, like we will be on stage?”

“Good question,” John said, quickly pressing the HELP icon on the team sheet.

Ton-3's holographic form popped up, once again in her cheerleader outfit of bright yellow T-shirt and shorts. “That's not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “Since the Defendroids are part of the ship's defense system, they are on standby while all your parents' ships dock with us. You're fighting the real thing tonight, but for now, they're needed for protection.”

Once the room was set up, John addressed the team. “Kaal and Monix, work on your sparring together. Everyone else, it's target practice. Let's go!”

LaserPros were ignited, thermal clips were slammed into Hot Shots, SonicArrows hummed to life, and the dress rehearsal began.

John had to split his time between firing at his targets and keeping an eye on the other team members. After a straight run of nine hits out of ten, he decided it was time for a tour of the room.

Kaal and Monix were going at it like gladiators. She was fast, zooming around him and slashing, first high then low, but Kaal's reaction time was spot on. As they grew more confident, they started to use flashier moves, with Kaal leaping over Monix's blade, and then jumping over her to spin around and deliver a reverse strike.

“Since you can both fly,” John called to them, “try fighting in the air. The Defendroids won't be able to follow you there, so you'll have clearer shots at them.”

The air bout was clumsier, but it looked amazing. Kaal's LaserPro lit up his huge wings from within and made him look like a flaming demon. When he finally got the better of Monix and slammed his LaserPro past her guard, she fell like a meteorite and slammed into the floor.

John ran forward, praying there hadn't been another injury.

But Monix shook herself and shot back up into the air. “Don't worry, I'm fine,” she said, “I just did it to look spectacular!”

On the other side of the room, Dyfi was pelting the target with blasts from her Hot Shot, a look of absolute concentration on her little face. Kritta and Tarope were flinging their SonicArrows at the targets, hitting most of them. John had heard one or two shrieks so far, but at least they came from mis-thrown SonicArrows and not from impaled teammates. At any rate, they were doing even better than yesterday.

“Looking good,” he said approvingly. “Kaal, Tarope, can you get over here for a sec? I want to try something.”

“What's the plan, team leader?” Tarope said.

“Kaal, can you try throwing Tarope straight up in the air, as hard as you can? Then Tarope, you take your shot. I want this to be the most devastating jump shot ever.”

“Let's do it!” Tarope said. “I love this plan!”

Kaal grabbed Tarope around the waist. “One, two, three!”

The froggy student soared through the air, almost reaching the ceiling. Then there was a silvery flash as he threw his SonicArrow, and a solid wobbling noise as it hit the target dead on.

Tarope did an acrobatic flip and landed with barely a sound.

Everyone clapped and cheered.

“Wow,” John said, a grin crossing his face. “I know the Defendroids are tough, but a shot like that should stop anything.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. With only a brief pause for lunch, they practiced their moves and honed their skills, over and over again. The team that only days earlier had been so hopeless was now a tight, well-disciplined unit, ready to back up one another.

“You think we're ready to face the real Defendroids?” Dyfi asked, her Hot Shot still glowing. For such a tiny alien, she looked dangerous.

John nodded. “We're ready.”

Suddenly, an urgent-sounding alarm rang out from the ship's speaker system.

“The Space Spectacular is about to begin!” announced Zepp. “Students have fifteen minutes to reach the Center!”

“And not a moment too soon,” John said. “Monix, Dyfi, Tarope, you guys take our weapons to the Center and let them know we're on our way. Kaal and Kritta, come with me. We're going to the Belly to collect the Defendroids.”

John, Kaal, and Kritta did their best to hurry, but every other student in the school — as well as their parents — seemed to be heading the other way. All the students were wearing their team colors now, and every leader clutched their team sheet.

Rushing through the corridor, John almost ran smack into Mordant Talliver.

Mordant looked John up and down, and his eyes narrowed into the old familiar look of hate. But all he said was, “The Center's the other way, John. Better hurry.”

“Thanks for that,” John said coldly. Had Mordant ever called him “John” before? He usually called him by his last name, or worse, “primitive Earthling.”

Mordant smiled tightly and passed him by. But there, hurrying along through the crowds a few paces behind Mordant, was Emmie, clutching a bundle of shredded silver fabric. John's heart clenched painfully in his chest.

She caught his eye and scowled, but she didn't look away.

Well, at least she's not ignoring me,
John assured himself.

“Emmie!” he said. “Where have you been?”

“Like you care!” she spat. “Don't come over all nice with me. I know very well what you did.”

John's throat tightened. He couldn't get the words out. “Wha—what?”

Emmie's hair seemed to crackle and stand on end, like an angry cat puffing itself up. She held out the fabric, which unrolled before them. It was the remains of a lightspeed suit, clawed to tatters.

“After everything else, now you do this? I thought you were my best friends!” she shouted. “I hate you both! I never want to speak to you again!”

John couldn't remember ever seeing Emmie like this before. He'd seen her upset, but never furious. It took the wind out of him, like he'd been punched in the stomach. Fortunately, Kaal came to his rescue.

“What do you mean?” Kaal replied, sounding deeply hurt. “Who tore your suit to pieces?”

“I thought you were clever, Kaal,” Mordant jeered. “But I see you're stupid enough to stand in front of Emmie and lie to her face. How can you, of all people, ask who tore her suit up?”

Mordant held the suit next to Kaal's broad hands. The ragged strips exactly matched the pattern of Kaal's claws.

“Like I told you,” Mordant said to Emmie, “it had to be a Derrilian. Look at him. There's guilt written all over his stupid green face.”

Emmie nodded. “I can understand you guys being jealous of our team. But trying to ruin our performance? That's just cruel.”

John looked from Mordant's angry snarl to the miserable remains of Emmie's suit, and the pieces fell into place with an almost audible click.

That little creep has framed us. He tore that suit up himself — I'd bet my life on it. He's set all this up to poison Emmie's mind against us!