Authors: Zac Harrison
Tags: #978-1-4342-6569-2, #978-1-4342-7934-7, #Hyperspace High, #Zac Harrison, #Dani Geremia, #Stone Arch Books, #space, #aliens, #boarding school, #science fiction
John opened his mouth to accuse Mordant, but at that very moment a warning chime rang out.
“All students must make their way to the Center immediately! The Space Spectacular is about to commence!”
Mordant twined a black tentacle around Emmie's wrist.
“Off to the Center with you, Emmie dear. Now.” And away Mordant pulled Emmie, before John had a chance to reply.
“Should we go after them?” Kaal asked.
“We can't,” John said. “We have to fetch the Defendroids . . . only ten minutes to go!”
“I can't understand why she's angry,” Kaal said, dodging out of the way of a family of wobbling beings that looked like heaps of frog spawn. “What does she think we've done?”
“Uh, just a guess, but maybe what you did to her lightspeed suit?” Kritta snapped. “Come on, Kaal. Don't play dumb.”
“But I didn't do it!” Kaal protested. “I wouldn't â she's our friend!”
“And Mordant's a liar!” John said angrily. “Kritta, Kaal's telling the truth. He'd never do something like that.”
“It wouldn't be the first idiotic thing he's done,” Kritta said.
“Kritta, please!” Kaal begged.
“And then there's the other stuff!” she continued.
John turned. “What other stuff?”
Walking to the service elevator, they saw Mordant's Serve-U-Droid, G-Vez, flying down the corridor, clearly in a rush.
Off doing his lying master's bidding again,
John thought angrily. He couldn't imagine a fate worse than being Mordant's servant.
As they entered the elevator, Kritta took a breath and started to speak: “Well . . . last night I was talking to Shazilda, okay, and she's best friends with Vonique-Eight, who's on Emmie's team, and she told me that Vonique-Eight told her that Emmie was crying at Zero-G Acrobatics practice, because someone put oil in her shampoo. And Mordant told her that you both did it! He said he could prove it.”
“Mordant stupid Talliver!” John roared. “One of these days that slimy creep's going to get what's coming to him.”
“There's more to this than you've told us, isn't there, Kritta?” Kaal said sternly.
Kritta nodded slowly. “I don't know what exactly, but yeah. From what I heard, Emmie thinks you've both been horrible to her for days. And Mordant's been her shoulder to cry on since it all started.”
“Oh, I bet he has! He's set this whole thing up to steal Emmie's friendship from us. I'm going to tie his tentacles around his scrawny neck!” John raged.
Just then, the elevator doors opened with a low grating noise. The three students made their way through the gloomy tunnels toward the Defendroids' cell.
Something's wrong here,
John thought.
What is it?
“I never really believed you did it, John!” Kritta burst out, sounding on the verge of tears. “I know you wouldn't!”
“But you believed I did?” Kaal asked miserably. “Is that what you're saying?”
“You saw the suit,” Kritta said. “Those were your claw marks! Honestly, Kaal, with the weird way you've been acting lately, I don't know what to believe!”
“Uh, guys?” said John, cutting off whatever Kaal was about to say. “Is it just me, or is it kind of quiet down here?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah,” said Kaal. “It was a lot louder last time we came down!”
John turned the corner, feeling rising dread at what he might find. There, looming in front of them, was the cell with the huge window. The Defendroids were inside, just like before. But they weren't roaring and crashing about.
Instead, their great shoulders sagged and their heads hung down on their chests. Not one of them moved or made a sound.
They looked as dead as iron statues.
“What are we going to do about the show?” cried Kritta.
“Maybe Master Tronic can help,” said John. “Zepp, can you please get Master Tronic?”
“Master Tronic is on the other side of the ship. He is making some last-minute adjustments to the stage,” replied the ship's computer.
“Well, what about Lorem? Is he around?” John asked, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt.
“The headmaster is about to deliver his opening remarks to the parents,” answered Zepp.
“Oh, great!” wailed Kritta. “My first Space Spectacular, and my parents aren't going to get to see me perform. The Galactic Battle team is ruined, thanks to these hunks of junk!”
“We are NOT ruined,” said John firmly. “And we are NOT going to give up.” He felt determined to find a solution.
“I've got my pocket ToTool with me. I could try to get them working again,” Kaal offered.
“Are you crazy?” shrieked Kritta. “Those things are dangerous, and we aren't armed!”
“Don't worry,” Kaal said bravely. “I'll be absolutely fine if they're in training mode.”
John hesitated. The huge robots looked totally dead â but Kritta was right. It was risky. He desperately wanted to be able to do the show, but it wasn't worth endangering his best friend. Kritta and Kaal both looked at him expectantly. As team leader, it was his call.
Surely Zepp or Lorem would step in if anything went seriously wrong. John took a deep breath. “I say it's worth a shot.”
Just as he was about to tap the training mode code into the panel, John stopped and stared. “Wait. The readout says they've been put in training mode already!”
“That means someone else has been down here,” Kaal said. “Someone who knew how to make the Defendroids safe to approach.”
“But who else knew the code?” Kritta asked. “You don't think it was someone on our own team, do you?”
“No time to wonder about that now,” said John. “Come on!” He pressed the control and the great doors groaned open.
Kaal ran to Crusher, the nearest Defendroid, a force wrench and digital decoupler in hand. With a whizz of unfastening screws, the Defendroid's control panel swung open. Inside was a spaghetti-like mess of cables, with glassy-looking spheres and glowing junction boxes nestled among them.
“Come on,” muttered Kaal. “There's got to be a central servomotor unit.”
Kaal rummaged through Crusher's innards, found a thick length of what looked to John like a blue vacuum cleaner hose, and tracked back along its length to a translucent module like an Easter egg.
“Here it is,” Kaal said. “Whoa! It looks like someone ripped out the main cerebral interface link.”
“Translation, please?” John said.
“Essentially, their brains can't communicate with their bodies,” Kaal explained. “It's sabotage. These robots have been paralyzed.”
“Can you fix them?” John demanded anxiously.
Kaal looked worried. “I can try to run a bypass, but it's risky. These things may look like brutes, but their circuits are delicate. If I mess it up, the feedback could fry their brains completely.”
“We don't have a choice. Better get on with it.”
Frowning hard in concentration, Kaal unplugged some cables, twisted them together, and plugged them into new places, talking to himself as he worked. “Okay, that's the synaptic bridge . . . now the main neurolink . . . I've got to fuse them . . .”
There was a fizz of arcing electricity and a bright glare, as Kaal welded something loose back into place with the ToTool.
Suddenly, Crusher's eyes lit up. Its head lurched upward. It lifted its huge arm. Slowly, it turned to face John.
“READY FOR ORDERS,” it grated.
“Phew,” said Kaal. “I guess it worked after all! Now for the others.”
John checked the time. Eight more minutes. “Come on, Kaal!” he muttered.
Kaal's huge fingers worked frantically, opening up robot after robot. “I'm really not sure about this, John!” he said, as one robot after another sparked into life. “I've never done this kind of repair work before.”
“I can see why you were a Robot Warriors champion,” Kritta said, admiration creeping into her voice.
“I wish we could just go to the Junkyard,” Kaal moaned. “There's no spare parts, so I'm having to borrow bits from one section to fix another! I'm sure I've broken something, somewhere.”
“You're doing great!” John reassured him.
“There,” Kaal panted, stepping back. Steel Storm, the last of the Defendroids to be repaired, straightened up with an odd mechanical buzz-click. “I just hope that's good enough.”
“It'll have to be,” said John. “We don't have time to do anything else!”
The corridors were disturbingly empty as the three teammates hurried to the Center. The Defendroids pounded along behind them, their footfalls shaking the floor.
“Everyone must be inside already!” Kaal gasped. “I hope we're not too late!”
Lorem's amplified voice echoed through the empty corridors. “Welcome, one and all, to the Space Spectacular! And an especially hearty welcome to all the parents who have joined us today, from systems as far apart as Zeta Reticuli and Deneb!”
“We're missing the opening speech,” Kritta moaned.
It's so hard not to break into a run!
John thought.
Maybe we should risk it. There are no Examiners around, after all.
Then he thought of how Mordant would taunt him if John spent the Space Spectacular in detention. He walked briskly, refusing to run.
The three teammates crashed through the doors of the Center a full five minutes late. Heads nearby turned to stare at them, but most eyes were still fixed on Lorem. The Center had been returned to its deep black amphitheater shape, with the swollen black MorphSeats.
“Looks like we're just in time!” Kaal whispered.
Ms. Vartexia came bustling over. “There you are! Right. Get down to the preparation room straight away. Down those steps. Hurry!”
The preparation area, hidden away below the Center, was a combination of dressing room and observation lounge. An arched tunnel led up to the main stage. Screens on all the walls showed different views of the stage up above. John guessed that had to be Lorem's thoughtful doing, to ensure the students didn't miss each other's performances. Most of the gathered teams were watching Lorem's welcoming speech, but a few were going through last-minute briefings.
John, Kaal, and Kritta left the Defendroids parked against the back wall and met up with the rest of their Galactic Battle team in front of the main viewing screen. John looked around for Emmie, and caught a brief glimpse of her silver hair vanishing up the tunnel along with the rest of her team.
Just my luck that they're on first,
he thought ruefully.
Lorem, who looked even more dazzling than usual under the stage lighting, concluded his welcome speech: “So, without further ado, I am proud to present the Zero-G Acrobatics team! Zepp, if you would activate the ZeBub, please?”
The dim outline of a sphere appeared, enclosing most of the empty space at the heart of the Center. Booming symphonic music began to play.
John watched the screen, his heart pounding. Emmie, Mordant, and a troupe of other silver-suited students walked up the steps to the stage and launched themselves into the ZeBub, tumbling in midair flips and coming to a stop at the top of the sphere. Arms and legs outspread, they formed an arch of starlike figures. Their team was far larger than the Galactic Battle team, John now saw; there were at least twenty of them.
I wish I could have talked to Emmie before she went out on stage,
John thought.
If only we'd been quicker getting here!
In spite of everything else to contend with today, he had to tell her that Mordant had framed them all along.
John noticed that all of the performers in the Zero-G Acrobatics team wore jet-belts. It seemed to be part of the equipment, since you couldn't maneuver in zero gravity without some sort of propulsion, but on these belts, the jet blasts had been tinted with colored smoke.
As the acrobatics display continued, Mordant and Emmie gently span out from the group in opposite directions, leaving rainbow trails in their wake. The rest of the group followed, half going one way and half the other.
“Oooh!” came the gasp from the crowd.
John watched, as amazed as the rest of the audience.
Emmie and Mordant leaped out into the center of the ZeBub and clasped hands, rotating around one another. John strained to catch a glimpse of her face. She was smiling, but to John it looked fake â all part of the act.
Next, two more acrobats leaped in and joined them, followed by two more. The combined vapor trails made a luminous wheel effect. Eventually, the entire team was whirling like a pinwheel. It reminded John of something very familiar â and then he saw it. They were imitating a spiral galaxy.
John's jaw dropped. He'd never seen a student performance as stunning as this. It was like a fabulous underwater ballet crossed with a fireworks display.