ArcadiA: A Game Space FastRead

by Peter Jay Black

  I followed him inside, with Nix and Matt close behind.

  Once out of earshot of the still-celebrating crowds, Jax Newton faced me. “What’s happened to Marlowe? Is he okay? He’s not hurt, is he?”

  I frowned. “Who?”

  “The last owner of that unique Bluestone phase-band you’re wearing.”

  I pulled away from him. “It was a present from the Professor. I mean, our great-uncle.”

  Jax Newton’s eyebrows lifted. “Describe the Professor for me, please.”

  “Grey hair,” Matt said. “Six feet tall, slim, pointy chin.”

  Jax Newton sighed. “Thank goodness he’s all right. After what happened, I was so worried about him.”

  “You know the Professor?” Matt asked.

  “Marlowe?” Nix said. “The guy’s a legend.” He looked at me. “Explains a lot, if you’re related. He’s an incredible detective. Helps out in ArcadiA.”

  I didn’t know how to react. “We need to go home.” I stepped toward Matt.

  “Oh, Kiraaa,” he whined. “Can we stay a while longer? This place is so much fun.”

  “If we stay too long, Mum and Dad will worry.” I smiled at Nix. “Thank you for helping me.”

  He smiled back. “No problem.”

  There was an awkward silence, which I broke by turning to Jax Newton. “How do we go home?”

  “The phase-band will guide you.” He bowed. “Until next time. And thank you once again.” Jax Newton swept from the shuttle with Nix and the door closed behind them, muffling the cheering crowds.

  Matt looked back at me, and gasped.

  “Now what?” I said.

  He pointed a shaking finger at a hole in my angora sweater, near the cuff. “Ruined.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Matt gaped at me. “Are you my sister?” He looked about. “Where’s the real Kira?”

  I thumped his arm, then grinned at him. Warmth radiated from the bracelet into my arm, and I grabbed Matt, pulling him close.

  Seventeen

  The world spun around Matt and me in a streak of colour, and a second later we found ourselves back in the Professor’s church house.

  The Professor rushed forward, his face pale and clammy, and seized hold of us. “Thank goodness. Are either of you hurt?” He checked us out top to toe. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never would have forgiven myself if—”

  “That was awesome.” Matt beamed at him. “Totally rad.” He gazed at the arcade machine with a longing that said he wanted nothing more than to go straight back into the alien world.

  I crossed my arms and glared at the Professor as he shuffled to the library area and dropped into a high-backed chair, looking exhausted.

  I sat opposite. I felt sorry for the old guy, but I still wanted answers.

  The Professor regarded me. “I have a lot to explain, I understand, but that will take some time.” He offered me a crooked smile. “For now, you should know, and no doubt you’ve already figured out, that I have been working as a private investigator for ArcadiA. Every mystery is my responsibility to solve. As you can also imagine, ArcadiA, with all its wonderful technology and Bluestone artifacts, is often a target.”

  “For Kraythons,” I said.

  He blinked. “How do you know about them?”

  As I explained the sequence of events, his eyes grew wider and his face paler.

  Once I’d finished the story, the Professor’s attention seemed to wander. Then he came to. “I’m so sorry, Kira,” he said, and focussed on me again. “This morning I investigated suspicious activity in Baytopia—reports of tampering with the animal enclosures—but I couldn’t find anything wrong. So I came home and carried on with my day.” He gestured at the Bluestone bracelet on my wrist. “Then I received a distress call. I dropped everything and returned to ArcadiA.”

  I nodded. That explained why he’d left the toaster and the soldering iron on. “What happened?”

  The Professor let out a juddering breath. “Another animal enclosure tampered with.” His brow furrowed. “Some kind of device fitted to the nearest security box.” He shook his head. “It all makes sense now—their plan to release the creatures.”

  “And neutralise their mood collars,” I said.

  “The next thing I remember is a flash of light, followed by a wave of numbness,” the Professor said. “I turned in time to see a Kraython looming over me. Must have stunned me in the back. The next second, I was home.” The Professor looked over at Matt, who was currently examining the arcade machine. “As I returned, your brother fell in. An accident, of course.”

  I held up my arm. “And then you gave me this Bluestone bracelet so I could go after Matt?”

  The Professor gave me a weary nod. “I hoped you could grab him before he got too far. I didn’t think for a second that you’d get caught up in all that.”

  I eyed the Professor, not sure if he was telling me the whole truth. When I’d last saw him, hadn’t he mentioned Sagan? I looked over at the arcade machine. “How did you originally find it?” I asked. “ArcadiA, I mean.”

  “I bought that cabinet years ago, intending to repair it, and discovered an artifact inside that opens a doorway into the Bluestone universe.” He nodded at my arm. “Along with that bracelet. It was if destiny wanted us to be together.” His gaze wandered again. “I tried to find the original owner, but failed. What happened to them is a mystery. One I’ve yet to solve.” He paused. “A real mystery . . .”

  A sudden, horrible thought struck me. “How long were we gone? Mum and Dad must be—”

  The Professor held up a hand. “It’s fine. A little under two hours. No longer than your usual visits.”

  I huffed out a breath. Thank goodness for that. “Why did the Kraythons go to all that trouble to print Sagan? And what was that ball I told you about?”

  “That’s a long, complicated story for another day,” the Professor said. “Suffice to say, the ball you described is a rare Bluestone artifact called an essence orb. It’s capable of capturing every quantum state of every atom in someone’s brain, right before the moment of their death. Normally, one would then find a suitable host, wipe their mind and replace it, but Sagan clearly did not wish to do that. So Valorion must have cleared the plan to print him a new body, identical to his own. I’m guessing they used the same scanning technology as the ArcadiA probes. Perhaps they hijacked one of them for that exact purpose, then scanned his body and made the necessary repairs.”

  “Seed. Seed. Seed.”

  Dazed, I stood up, walked over to the hamster cage and dropped a few sunflower seeds through the bars.

  Isaac stuffed them into his cheeks one-by-one, while staring at me.

  He wasn’t so bad.

  The Professor smiled. “I see Baytopia has helped you tackle your fear of animals.”

  I shrugged. “Not willingly.” The truth was, all animals still unnerved the hell out of me, but having come close enough to a grondar to smell its fetid breath, a tiny hamster behind bars didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

  The Professor pinched his chin. “Mysteries still remain. Lots of mysteries.”

  I returned to my chair and dropped into the cushions with a heavy sigh. I felt exhausted. “What mysteries?”

  “How the Kraythons broke into ArcadiA. How they brought in technology undetected. How they reduced Baytopia to its knees.” He leaned forward in his chair, looking intense. “Will you help? You’re now bonded to the phase-band. I can no longer return.” He looked wistful for a moment. “You’re the only one who can take my place, Kira.”

  I stared at him. “Why can’t you go?” I went to remove the phase-band bracelet, but he stopped me.

  “All questions we can answer together in time.” He sat back. “I’d planned to train you. Teach you the ways of Bluestone. And then, when you were old enough, and ready . . .”

  “Wait.” My gaze moved to the stacks of mystery books. “That’s what you’ve been doin
g?”

  The Professor winked.

  “Hmm. Not sure how I feel about that.” I got to my feet. “Come on, Matt. Time to go home.”

  “Aw, Kira. Can we stay?”

  “Mum and Dad will worry.” I traipsed to the door and ushered my brother through.

  “See ya next week, Professor,” he called as he bounded outside.

  “Take care, young man,” the Professor called after him. He waited until Matt was out of earshot before he spoke again. “Kira?” The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked intense. “Will you help? With the mysteries? With ArcadiA?”

  I thought about the strange world of theme parks and magical artifacts, of Nix and Jax Newton, and the way everything seemed so real. In fact, I knew it had been totally real. And despite myself, a rush of excitement coursed through me at the prospect of returning.

  I smiled at the Professor. “See you next week.”

  * * *

  READ ON

  for the first two chapters

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  FREE: Game Space Chapters

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  “Jumanji meets The Last Star Fighter”

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  Trapped Inside Alien Game. SEND HELP!

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  When Leo moves to Colorado, he uncovers a crashed UFO with an alien game on board. Forty years ago his grandmother fell into the virtual world and vanished.

  * * *

  Now determined to solve the mystery, Leo goes inside, believing he’ll captain a spaceship and bring her home, but he finds himself surrounded by a decimated fleet and in real danger.

  * * *

  To survive, Leo must adapt quickly, win over new friends, and blend in. That won’t be easy because one of them is deeply suspicious of him. Leo faces impossible challenges where the smallest misstep could mean losing his family, and his life…

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  **A High-Octane Space Adventure Suitable for Ages 15 to 500

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  GAME SPACE

  ONE

  * * *

  I thought I’d be at least twenty years old before I met an alien. So you can imagine my surprise when two days after my sixteenth birthday, not only had I seen several, but my first physical encounter started with a cyborg attempting to tear my head off and throw me out of an airlock.

  Wait.

  Let me rewind this a minute and give you some context.

  Hi, I’m Leonardo Cooper. Leo.

  I am of average height and build, average looking with dark hair and blue eyes, have an average life—school, hanging out with my mates, and getting average grades—Bs and Cs, mainly.

  Dad is a British Royal Air Force pilot, and Mum is an American cardiothoracic surgeon.

  I was adopted.

  We spent the first fifteen years of my existence in London, England, until my father received a job offer he couldn’t refuse—test pilot in the private space industry, based out of New Mexico, USA, with other training facilities scattered around the country.

  He was going to be a freaking astronaut.

  How amazing is that?

  My parents made a big show of umming and ahing, going into deep discussions regarding the culture shock to my system.

  Hey, I knew all about Bob Ross and Selena Gomez. Concerning American culture, I was set.

  They also expressed their anxiety about the extreme and everlasting impact on my education.

  Ha.

  Needless to say, Dad accepted the offer.

  Now my father was the new Rocketman in the family. Commuting wasn’t a problem for him due to being able to fly himself across the country, so we could choose to live anywhere in America. All forty-eight lower states. Sorry, Alaska and Hawaii, no British invasion for you.

  Of course, my parents vetoed every one of my amazing suggestions. Gone were New York City, Vegas, and San Francisco. Boston? Too busy. Miami? Too hot. Los Angeles? Too . . . well, too everything.

  Want to guess the final choice?

  This was a two-to-one vote, by the way.

  Silverthorne, Colorado.

  I know, right? I’d never heard of it either.

  Sigh.

  This wasn’t a random, throw-a-dart-at-a-map-of-the-USA type of situation. No, there was a definite method to my parents’ madness.

  What made Silverthorne their target?

  My one and only remaining grandparent lived there and—rather conveniently, I might add—owned a large plot of land, complete with a six-bedroom family lodge.

  Mum had convinced her father to visit London on two previous occasions. The first was before I was born, and the second time I was only three. I had no memory of the guy, but was looking forward to being part of his life. My parents had no other relatives, so I couldn’t wait for us to extend our family.

  Meanwhile, my mother emailed the nearest major hospital outside Silverthorne—St Anthony—explaining her background, her vast credentials and experience, yadda, yadda, yadda. Thirty-seven seconds later—I know, I timed it—she had a job offer.

  Despite repeated attempts to convince Mum and Dad to leave me in London with my friends, we packed up our stuff a month later, gave what we didn’t want to charity, and donated Gavin the hamster to our neighbour. He was a vicious little sod, and America would not have suited his blood-sucking lifestyle.

  Gavin, that is, not the neighbour.

  Laden with several suitcases each—plus Milo, a dopey Pekingese—our family of four embarked on an adventure to the land of the free and home of the Braves. Or whatever.

  We travelled Economy Class, thanks to my parents’ determination not to waste a single penny on anything remotely comfortable or frivolous, and our beloved dog journeyed in the baggage hold.

  With the flight akin to sitting on a bouncy castle full of hyperactive children for ten hours, I was thankful I’d taken motion sickness tablets.

  Once we got to Denver, the three of us collected a shell-shocked Milo—who looked as though the crew had left the cargo door open for the entire journey—and traipsed off to claim our hire car.

  Fifty thousand insurance forms later, we bundled our worldly belongings into a battered-looking SUV with manual—I repeat, manual—window winders and a tape deck from the fifteenth century.

  I climbed into the back seat with wonky-eyed Milo, who stank of vanilla and lavender. Seriously, what the hell had they fed him? An air freshener?

  My father tried to get into the wrong side of the car.

  I laughed. “Not a great start, Dad.”

  “Shut up.”

  And off we went.

  Denver International Airport was like you’d expect—lots of concrete and those loud, pointy, wingy things my father’s so fond of.

  Driving away, everything looked flat and uninteresting for a while, but that changed as we wound through the hills, headed up a never-ending incline.

  Next came trees and snow, like someone increasing the draw distance in a video game, adding more detail until a vast evergreen forest flanked us on one side, crumbling rock faces on the other, and then rivers, lakes, and . . . mountains.

  For the record, and contrary to popular belief, we do have mountains in the United Kingdom—Ben Nevis and Snowdon to name two. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice, perfectly respectable in every way, but the Colorado mountains are incredible, seeming to stand several magnitudes taller, scraping the sky like . . . well, like a Bob Ross p
ainting.

  Yep, Colorado is full of happy little trees and a landscape to die for.

  We pulled off the main highway, heading down a decline into Silverthorne itself, where everything was conveniently close, but far enough apart to still feel spacious.

  I spotted a coffee shop, steakhouse, and several fast-food restaurants, making a mental note of each of their locations and hoping my grandfather’s house was within waddling distance.

  Dad continued along the main road, checking a prehistoric GPS from time to time. Five minutes later, we took a sudden—I swear he almost missed it—sharp turn to the right and dove across a steel bridge spanning a river.

  From there, we followed a narrow, winding, and occasionally life-threatening trail into the hills, climbing higher and higher until . . . there it was.

  My mouth dropped open so far that my chin almost hit my lap, and even Milo managed to focus both of his wayward eyes on the structure before us.

  Granddad’s lodge had to be the most impressive building I’d ever seen. Being from London, I’d had no shortage of architecture in my life, but this was something else, formed of cut logs, slate, and angles.

  A porch held aloft by wooden pillars and trusses spanned the entire frontage, overhanging rows of sash windows and rocking chairs, all designed to create a warm invitation.

  Several stone chimneys jutted from the various rooftops, the largest of which sent a column of bluish-grey smoke skyward.

  We stayed motionless in the car, holding our breaths, no one daring to be the first to disturb the calm, magnificent scene.

  Milo let out a wet snort.

  “He needs to pee,” I said, making sure reality was well and truly back in family Cooper’s lives.