Galactic Battle (9 page)

This team was just plain bad. Despair was beginning to gnaw at the pit of John's stomach, like a bad case of indigestion. Kritta was outstanding, of course, but Kaal was so distracted, he could barely remember which was the right end of his SonicArrows, Monix threw them with sheer brute force and no precision at all, and poor Dyfi had to use both hands to even pick them up. When she threw them, they traveled about ten feet, making a pitiful squeak like the air being let out of a balloon.

Tarope, though, was learning. He was nowhere near as bad as the others, and with Kritta patiently helping him, he was even getting to be pretty good. More of his arrows were hitting than missing, and the ones that weren't thrown right sounded more like mewing kittens than screeching tomcats.

“Not bad!” Kritta said, as Tarope's latest throw thudded into the Defendroid target, right in the middle of its chest. “Let's try something a little bit more advanced for your last shot, okay?”

“Fine with me!” Tarope said, hopping from one foot to the other in his excitement.

“Okay. Try jumping up in the air and throwing right at the top of your jump. If your opponent's blocking, you can sometimes hit them from above.”

Tarope leaped, sailing into the air on his long, froggy legs, and threw.

The SonicArrow never made a sound. One moment it was leaving his hand, the next it was jiggling on the target.

Tarope did a second leap, this time punching the air. “YES!”

“Nice one, Tarope!” John called out.
Too bad he couldn't be that good with the LaserPros,
he thought.
He's really cheered up now.

Next, Kritta moved to Kaal. “Time for your last shot,” she told him. “Just relax. You're bound to hit the target sooner or later.”

But Kaal didn't look relaxed. He glanced at Tarope, who was still celebrating, and a determined look came over his face.

He crouched down, holding his SonicArrow tight, then leaped up into the air like Tarope had. He threw the SonicArrow with a wild yell.

Obviously, in Kaal's imagination, the SonicArrow was somehow meant to fly miraculously straight and wham into the target's head, scoring maximum points and impressing Kritta.

In reality, however, John could only watch in horror, as the arrow screeched up through the air, banged off the ceiling, flipped over, and fell point-downward into Kritta's foot. The screech that came out of her mouth was louder than the sound from any of the SonicArrows.

“Oh no!” Kaal stammered. “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen . . .”

“You IDIOT!” she howled, clutching her foot and hopping up and down. “You big, clumsy, Derrilian oaf!”

“I was just trying to do a jump shot like Tarope. I thought you'd be pleased!”

“Um,” John said, as he saw the door slide open. “Guys . . .”

An Examiner hovered into the sports hall and made straight for Kaal.

“KAAL TARTARU, YOU HAVE ENDANGERED A FELLOW STUDENT WITH A WEAPON. VIOLATION OF RULE EIGHT-TWO-SEVEN. PUNISHMENT IS DETENTION.” It swiveled on the spot and hovered back out again.

John had to wonder how the Examiner had found out so quickly. Were the robots watching every single room from some mysterious central security station?

A second white robot came scooting into the room, but this wasn't an Examiner. John recognized the fireball insignia on its chest. It was one of the Meteor Medics, the trauma team of Hyperspace High.

The Meteor Medic scanned Kritta, and then said gravely, “She needs immediate treatment. I'm taking her up to the medical wing.”

“Shouldn't one of us go with her?” said Kaal.

“Absolutely not,” the medic said coldly. It lifted Kritta gently onto a stretcher made of a manipulator beam, then backed out of the room, taking her with it.

“This seems like a good time to take a break,” John said wearily. “Get some lunch, everyone. We'll meet back here in an hour.”

After Kritta's injury and the failed SonicArrow attempts, John's team was more than ready to stop.

Alone in the empty hall, John wandered down to where the targets stood. They had recorded the number of times they'd been hit and by which student. Kritta and Tarope had scored over twenty each, but Monix had eight, John five, and Dyfi and Kaal had no hits at all.

It was too much. He spread his arms wide and yelled at the top of his voice, “Aaaaaargh! The Space Spectacular is TOMORROW! AND THIS TEAM IS A TOTAL WASHOUT! WHAT ON EARTH AM I GOING TO DO?”

Leaving the Sonic Sports Hall, John set off toward the Center, then paused and turned back in the other direction. It was no good; he couldn't face spending even more time with his useless team. What he needed right now was to be on his own.

Angrily, he strode toward the dorm room he shared with Kaal.
Why is he so obsessed with Kritta, and being such a girl-crazy goof?
he thought.
Doesn't he know a lost cause when he sees one?
Was it really only two days ago that Kaal had been so determined to impress his parents, and not this insect-like girl? There had to be some way to snap Kaal out of this.

Maybe having his family around tomorrow would help. But that just made John think of the Space Spectacular, and the fact the team was still hopeless.

Tarope couldn't hold a LaserPro, and Dyfi could barely even lift a SonicArrow. What was he supposed to do with a team like that?

John reached his dorm and threw himself onto his bed. “Zepp, I've got a challenge for you.”

“Go on,” Zepp said.

“Can you make it sound like it's raining? It never rains in space; I miss it.”

The soft patter of raindrops filled the room. John sighed heavily, as he imagined rain running down the windows of his bedroom.

“Is that any better?” Zepp asked. “I can add thunder if you wish.”

“No, thanks. Just the rain is fine.”

John lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, letting the imaginary rain wash the frustration out of his head. He let out a deep sigh.

“Is that loud exhalation a human expression of frustration?” Zepp asked, perceptive as ever.

“Yeah, you're right,” said John. “It's just not fair. I'm stuck with being the leader, trying to pull this useless Galactic Battle team into shape. And even if by some miracle I manage to, my parents won't even be here to see it! So what's the point, huh? Is there even a point? Why bother?”

“Why bother?” echoed Zepp. “Because when you do pull it off, you'll remember it for the rest of your life, that's why!”

“Don't even joke,” John said. “Why on Earth did they make me leader?”

“Because they honestly believed you could do the job,” Zepp said seriously. “And you can. You're a natural leader. You've got all the traits and abilities that a good leader needs.”

“Then how come I'm not getting anywhere?” John asked.

“You've been given a tough job,” said Zepp. “If everything a leader had to do was easy, how would they ever find out what they were really capable of?”

“It's too tough,” said John.

“But not impossible,” Zepp pointed out.

“We're all so different,” said John. “Tarope can't hold a LaserPro, and I can't throw a SonicArrow straight . . .”

“Hmmmm,” said Zepp. “Those are good observations, John. But maybe you should focus on your team's strengths instead of its weaknesses.”

“Well, Monix and Kaal were pretty handy with the LaserPros, and Kritta was awesome with the SonicArrows.” John quickly started feeling a bit more positive.

“Now you're starting to sound like a leader,” said Zepp.

John started thinking about famous leaders from Earth he'd learned about at his old school. Some of the greatest heroes had won victories despite being the underdog. Zepp was right: good leaders didn't give up on their team.

John's mind started running through famous historic battles. The ancient Greeks beating the better-armed Persians . . . Wellington crushing Napoleon's army at the Battle of Waterloo . . . the outnumbered Union Army defeating the Confederates at the Battle of Gettysburg . . .
What I need is a strategy that plays to the team's individual strengths,
John suddenly realized.

“So you really think I can turn this team around?” he asked Zepp.

“Affirmative,” Zepp said, without a second's hesitation. “But you have to truly believe it. Because your team won't believe in you unless you believe in yourself first.”

“Wow,” John said. “Thanks, Zepp. I feel a lot better now.”

It was amazing what a few well-chosen words could do. Perhaps what his own team needed was a pep talk, just like Zepp had given him. He began to go over what he'd say to them.

Just as he was about to head back out, he noticed a box on his bedside table. He peered in and saw that it was full of hairy, blackish-blue objects. They looked — and smelled — like rotting pistachios.

“Neptune nuts,” he read aloud from the side of the box. “Yuck. How did they get there?”

He turned the box around, remembering the one and only time he'd ever tried them. They had filled his mouth with horrible, salty foam, like chewing bath fizzies.

Kaal must have left them here,
he decided, and went back to join his team.

Whistling happily on his way to the Sonic Sports Hall, John called up Ton-3 from the team sheet to see which weapon they'd be practicing with that afternoon.

“Hot Shots!” the hologram announced, swaggering through the air in a long, black suit and twirling a pistol on her extended finger. “These triple-barrelled pistols are the hottest weapon around! One easily replaced thermal clip loads you up with eighteen heat pellets — enough for six scorching, metal-melting triple shots! And if you need supreme firepower in a hurry, just flick the switch all the way to rapid fire!”

“Awesome,” John said. “The team's going to love these.”

Then Ton-3 began to babble in a much quieter voice. “Always ensure that the safety setting on your Hot Shot is properly activated, as the manufacturer accepts no responsibility for improper use. Hot Shot is for use only in approved combat and sporting environments. Do not attempt to eat heat pellets. Do not use Hot Shot to clear blocked sinks —”

John looked down at the team sheet and found the mute button. Ton-3 was still chattering, but now silently. “Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” he said.

Dyfi met him in the doorway, brandishing a Hot Shot. “John, look! A weapon I can actually hold!”

“These are even better than the LaserPros,” Tarope was saying.

Even Monix looked excited.

They were helping themselves to Hot Shot guns and fistfuls of thermal clips from an open silver box that stood against the wall. But Kaal and Kritta were nowhere to be seen.

“I guess Kaal's not out of detention yet?” John asked.

“And Kritta's still in the medical wing,” Dyfi said sadly. “I hope she gets out in time for Cyber-Karaoke night. It's supposed to be a blast.”

Once again, the sports hall had been set up especially for them. The walls had shifted, forming a huge dome. Hovering in the air in the center of the room was a group of star-shaped targets, outlined with red, blue, and green light. The red ones were about the size of John's head; the green ones the size of his whole body. He guessed they had different point values, based on how difficult they were to hit.

He depressed the mute button, and Ton-3 was audible again. “Ready to get started?” she asked. “Okay! You need to stand in a circle and fire at the targets in the middle of the room. The smaller the target, the more points you score.”

Knew it,
John thought.

“Are you sure?” Monix said, sounding alarmed. “If we miss the target, we might hit the person standing on the opposite side of the room!”

“Don't you worry about that!” said Ton-3. “We've thought of that, trust me.”

“Okay, does everyone have plenty of ammunition?” John asked.

“Locked and loaded!” Dyfi trilled.

“Cool! Before we start, I just wanted to say a few things.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We are going to rock this Space Spectacular. Sure, we've had a rough start, but I bet there are other teams out there who wish they could change places with us! And we're getting better every time we practice. Monix kicks butt with a LaserPro now, and Tarope's doing better with SonicArrows than even he expected! Right?”

“Right!” yelled Tarope, giving John a thumbs-up.

“So, let's fire it up, team! Get to your places, and when you hear the signal, start blowing away those targets!”

“Woooo!' yelled Dyfi and Tarope, sprinting across the room. Even Monix looked excited, as she lined up her first shot.

Now we're starting to look like a team,
thought John.

The signal went off, sounding a blare like a triumphant war horn.