Warlord's Revenge

by Zac Harrison

  Still giggling, the class spilled out onto Kerallin. As John passed through the doorway, he looked around in wonder. The planet’s green colour obviously came from its lush foliage. In the distance he could see tall trees, heavy with what appeared to be summer leaves. Beneath his feet, jewel-like wild flowers blossomed in a thick carpet of green grass. A stream wound its way through the meadow, and a sun burned bright in the blue sky. John closed his eyes and turned his face to it, feeling the warm rays of a real sun for the first time since the class had visited the museum planet Archivus Major.

  Almost like home, he thought.

  “That must be where the scholars live,” Emmie said, pointing her finger.

  On the horizon, slender towers of golden stone glowed in the sunshine. Tall and slim, each was topped with a graceful spire. Beyond them was an enormous domed building.

  Stretching his legs, John took a few steps, trying to work the stiffness from his knees. The air was fresh and full of delicate scents. He took a deep lungful.

  “Good morning.”

  The voice was so quiet, John thought for a moment that he had imagined it but, turning his head, he saw two figures walking slowly across the grass. Behind them, a sleek, silver craft with an open top hovered above the ground.

  Kaal nudged him. In an awed voice, he whispered, “The scholars of Kerallin!”

  Chapter 6

  As the scholars approached, John looked closely. He was surprised to see that, although both were wearing long academic robes and looked so frail and ancient that a strong wind might blow them over, they were very different to each other. The scholar who had spoken had a large, bulbous head, wrinkled with papery purple skin, and ringed with blinking eyes. He stood slightly taller than the second, a frail, six-armed female who was hunched over, John assumed from the weight of her years. So thin, she looked almost like a walking skeleton, she leaned on the purple-skinned scholar’s arm as she shuffled forward.

  “Welcome to Kerallin. I am Socrat,” wheezed the purple-skinned scholar, as the two stopped before the class. He inclined his head towards the other scholar. “This is Aristil.”

  “It appears Sergeant Jegger has done a commendable job educating you in Space Flight,” said Aristil, looking along the row of students. John leaned forward, straining to hear her soft voice. Aristil’s eyes, he noticed, glittered with intelligence. “You made the trip in two hours and sixteen minutes,” she went on. “The second-fastest time ever.”

  Kaal nudged John again. “Well done,” he whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  “You would all benefit from some extra tuition in Cosmic Languages, however,” the six-armed scholar continued, looking less pleased. “None of you managed to translate the instruction to activate the ship’s cloaking device.”

  John heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. “I’m so dumb,” Emmie hissed. “‘Cloaking device’, not ‘coat’.”

  “Further tests will start in the assembly hall in one hour,” said Socrat. “In the meantime, we thought you might enjoy a short tour of the planet. Refreshments have been provided on our hoverbus. Please board here.”

  With wind whipping through his hair, John gazed over Kerallin as the gleaming craft skimmed across the planet. They had passed the complex of towers, learning from Socrat that each housed a different department of study, and flown through carefully tended gardens containing plants from hundreds of worlds. Now the hoverbus sped along a river valley of lush green. An astonishing variety of animals had come to the water’s edge to drink, wash, and play. As the hoverbus flashed by, John thought he saw a pink elephant-like creature trumpeting water into the air. He turned to stare, but the animal was already out of sight.

  “Mmmm, this is good,” he said, lowering his drink.

  On the seat in front of him, Aristil turned. “Goldberry juice,” she told him. “Goldberries are the only fruit that is native to this planet and only grow in Kerallin’s equatorial regions. Unless you return as a scholar one day, you will almost certainly never taste them again.”

  “I thought the scholars were – you know – a single species,” said Emmie, “and Kerallin was their home world.”

  “Oh no,” Aristil answered in a quivering voice. “Kerallin was an uninhabited dust planet before the first scholars terraformed it.” She waved at the animals. “Like most of the plants and all the wildlife, the scholars have arrived here from every corner of the universe.” She smiled. “Kerallin is a retreat for the universe’s greatest thinkers, a place to continue their studies in peace when they decide to retire from the cares of the universe.”

  “You mean it’s one big, brainy old peoples’ home?” John blurted. Realizing how rude that sounded, he blushed. “Sorry, that came out wrong...”

  “Never be afraid to call something what is really is,” Aristil replied with another smile. “Yes, Kerallin is ‘one big, brainy old peoples’ home’, though we ‘old people’ like to tell ourselves that we still do useful work.”

  “What did you do, before you came here?” Emmie asked.

  “Me, my dear? Why, I was headmistress of Hyperspace High.” Seeing the looks of astonishment on the students’ faces, Aristil laughed. “I haven’t always been as old as this,” she said, her eyes glittering. For a split second John could see that she had once been very beautiful. “Ah,” the scholar continued, “our tour is up. Here’s the assembly hall. Let’s see what you have learned at Hyperspace High, shall we?”

  The hoverbus stopped at the bottom of a set of wide steps leading up to the grandest of the towers. The students made their way up to an ornately carved doorway, where exotic flowers bloomed on each side. Now that they were actually on Kerallin and about to face the scholars in person, most were nervous. Only Mordant climbed the steps as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I didn’t study hard enough, I didn’t study hard enough,” Raytanna repeated to herself over and over. Her normally smooth forehead was creased with worry.

  “Raytanna, the only time you don’t study is when you eat,” Werril told her.

  Emmie gripped John’s arm. He looked into her terrified eyes. “What is life but a series of tests?” he said gently. “We can only face them with courage.”

  “John,” Emmie whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Please shut up.”

  John grinned. “It sounded better when the headmaster said it,” he said. “Come on, you’ll be fine. Kaal and I will be right next to you.”

  Together, the three of them stepped through the doorway. Globes of light illuminated a passageway, which was lined with holographic portraits of past scholars. Whispering quietly, the students walked through, footsteps echoing on the marble floor. A soft gasp ran through the class as it reached the main chamber of the assembly hall.

  The walls were covered in rich carvings, representing all the different academic fields. John understood only a tiny fraction, but here and there were mathematical laws that he had seen before. Soft light filtered through tall windows of coloured glass that were arranged in strange, but beautiful, patterns. At one end of the room was a raised platform. Higher still, a semicircle of twenty throne-like carved chairs looked down upon it. Every chair was occupied.

  “The students will approach the dais and wait to be called upon,” boomed a voice from the far end of the hall.

  “This isn’t at all nerve-racking,” joked Lishtig, as the class stepped across deep rugs and lined up before the platform.

  John had been feeling nervous before Lorem’s calming words. Looking up at the scholars in their massive thrones, his nerves now threatened to become outright terror. The scholars of Kerallin, it seemed, had gone out of their way to make the students feel as small as possible. Aristil had taken a seat at one end, and Socrat at the other. Between them were eighteen scholars from eighteen different planets. Only their academic robes were the same. Most were creatu
res that John had never seen before. One had a face that looked like an intricate silver mask; another’s body was covered in long spikes. About halfway along was an elderly Derrilian, his red eyes full of curiosity and fixed on Kaal.

  “Each of you will step onto the dais and answer a single question in turn,” the voice said. John wondered where it was coming from. None of the scholars had spoken. “First, Mordant Talliver.”

  John watched as the black-haired half-Gargon mounted the steps. Mordant stood at ease, as if he owned the planet, gazing up at the scholars with confidence.

  A tiny being with fish-scale skin and the most enormous pair of spectacles John had ever seen spoke first. “I am Scholar Ulara Forshart. Mordant Talliver, translate for me the phrase, ‘Eshli car shou torashla y eshli cerashadil cormawan.’”

  Mordant answered in a heartbeat. “Those who have knowledge speak, but those who have wisdom listen,” he said. “It is ancient Elvian, Scholar Forshart. One of the sayings of the philosopher Volaxian Hardesh.”

  “Very good. You may step down, Mordant.”

  “I knew that,” whispered Emmie at John’s side. “Why couldn’t they give me that one.”

  John squeezed her hand.

  When Mordant had stepped back into line, the old Derrilian spoke. “Lishtig ar Steero.”

  “Oh boy, here we go,” muttered Lishtig, as he climbed the steps.

  “Good morning, Lishtig, I am Scholar Deem,” said the Derrilian. “In biology, DNA carries the genetic code for over eighty per cent of all galactic life forms. But for which three advanced species do silipeteronuclaic cells, also known as SPCs, perform the same function?”

  Lishtig glanced back at Gobi-san-Art. “Well, the Koo-rag-tar is one. I know that because one of them’s my best mate,” he said.

  The corner of the Derrilian’s mouth twitched.

  “Umm... the other two are... hang on, I know this... the Skar of planet Tharlon Four... and... and the Ghuremalite of planet Ghurem.”

  “Indeed. Thank you, Lishtig.”

  “Raytanna Vitor,” said the mask-faced scholar.

  Raytanna took her place on the platform, head hanging and her hands gripped into fists at her side.

  “I am Scholar Silva, Raytanna. In robotics, how many degrees of freedom are required in the construction of a fully working humanoid hand?”

  Raytanna’s head jerked up. “But that’s easy!” she exclaimed. “Every textbook agrees that twenty degrees of freedom are necessary, but I have been running my own tests, which suggest an extra two degrees in the carpal region would give additional strength and flexibility. In addition—”

  “Thank you, Raytanna. You may step down now,” the scholar interrupted.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Raytanna gabbled.

  “Not at all. Your research sounds fascinating. We must find time to speak before you leave.”

  Kaal was next. Despite his earlier confidence, he was visibly shaking as he stood before the scholars. John knew that his shy room-mate hated being the centre of attention.

  From the corner of his eye, John saw the elderly Derrilian flash three fingers at Kaal – a Derrilian thumbs-up – and then cover the movement by scratching his nose. For the first time since entering the hall, John felt himself smile.

  Kaal’s question was on astrophysics. John knew it wasn’t one of his friend’s best subjects, but the hunched Elvian scholar seemed satisfied with his answer and told Kaal to return to his place.

  “Cool, well done, mate,” John whispered as Kaal stood next to him, wiping sweaty palms on his uniform.

  “John Riley.”

  On legs of jelly, John stepped up onto the dais.

  I won’t let them see how nervous I am.

  Straightening his posture, John lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “An Earthling,” wheezed a particularly old being – a tiny creature with grey, spotted skin and a nose that hung down to his waist. “We’ve never had an Earthling before, have we?”

  John felt a blush rise to his face as a number of the scholars leaned forward to inspect him.

  “They call themselves human beings, Thushlar. He’s the first to attend Hyperspace High,” said Socrat.

  “Earthlings, human beings – can’t they make their minds up?” wheezed the old being. “Never mind, never mind. As you have probably gathered, I am Scholar Thushlar. Tell me, what is the square root of three million, nine-hundred and twenty-eight thousand, three hundred and twenty-four?”

  John’s shoulders slumped with relief. Maths was by far his best subject. Numbers were the same in every galaxy, and he had always had a talent for solving mathematical problems. Even so, it was a fiendishly difficult question to tackle without a calculator.

  Break it down... Factorize into prime numbers... pair... carry over... check the result... check again...

  “One thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-two, sir.”

  Thushlar sat back in his throne. “Correct,” he said. “Fast. I like that in a mathematician.”

  “Thank you, Scholar Thushlar.”

  “And polite, too. Maybe Hyperspace High should get more of these Earthling human beings.”

  Liking the wheezy old alien more and more, John grinned up at him.

  “That will do, for now, John Riley. Back to your place.”

  Emmie was the last to face the scholars. By the time she climbed the steps, John could tell she was a nervous wreck. Unable to hold herself still, she folded her arms, then put them behind her back, then pushed silver hair out of her eyes.

  It seemed that the scholars had also noticed. “Emmie Tarz,” Aristil said gently, “in the third Quesney War, what was the name of the general who led the rebel Parshian forces?”

  John winced. Of all the subjects the scholars could have chosen for Emmie, Hyperspace History was the worst. She hated it and constantly confused the names and dates of important events. Aristil might as well have asked her to name every soldier who took part in the third Quesney War. He glanced up at Kaal, who shook his head. There was nothing they could do.

  On stage, Emmie stood in absolute silence. John could only see the back of her head, but he knew she would be biting her lip. He felt a horrible tight feeling in his chest as he watched his friend tremble.

  Silence.

  “I’m afraid I will have to hurry you.”

  “I-I d-don’t... ugh... is it... no, n-not h-him.”

  “Emmie Tarz?”

  “General Looshid!” Emmie blurted.

  Aristil frowned. “That answer is incorrect.”

  “It was General Kaskov!” shouted Mordant. “General Trutley bo Kaskov.”

  The scholars ignored him. As one they stood. At the end of the line, Socrat took a step forward. “For the next test, we invite you all to visit our library. If you would kindly follow Aristil and myself.”

  Tears ran down Emmie’s face as she slipped back into her place. John put an arm around her shoulders.

  “It’s OK, Emmie,” said Kaal. “They’re not going to fail you for one wrong answer.”

  “You don’t know that, Kaal,” she answered, her eyes sparkling with tears of pale blue. “What if they do? And there’s more tests yet to come. I’m bound to get all those wrong, too. What if they ask me to leave? Even worse, what if they fail the entire class? If Hyperspace High fails an inspection for the first time ever, it will be all my fault.”

  Chapter 7

  John hardly noticed where Aristil and Socrat were leading. Emmie had dried her eyes, but her shoulders remained slumped. She walked in gloomy silence as the two scholars shuffled slowly through gardens overflowing with strange and beautiful blooms, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. On either side of her, John and Kaal exchanged worried glances.

  “The Library of Kerallin,” said Socrat. “Here, all the knowledge of the universe
is stored.”

  John jumped. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that the class had arrived at the domed building he had noticed earlier. Up close, it was enormous – a small village could easily have been built inside – and the only modern-looking building among the towers.

  A flicker of green light washed over the old scholar’s face, as a hidden retina scanner checked his identity.

  “Socrat of Tersia Prime,” said an electronic voice. “Enter.”

  The doors swung open.

  John had been expecting a library similar to Hyperspace High’s, where ancient books were kept behind glass and students could view their contents on ThinScreens. Instead, the sight that met his eyes was unlike anything he’d ever imagined. At his side, even Emmie breathed, “Wow” under her breath and gazed around in wonder.

  Gleaming shelves reached to the ceiling. Not one held a book. Every shelf was separated into small compartments, and every compartment was occupied by a shining ball of coloured light. There were hundreds of globes on the shelves he could see, and, at the centre of the library, even more rows radiated outward like spokes on a wheel.

  “What are they?” he whispered.

  On either side, Emmie and Kaal looked baffled. “No idea,” said Kaal, staring at the glimmering balls above his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Aristil walked forward and took a globe from the nearest shelf in one of her many hands. Turning back to face the class, she ran another hand across its glowing red surface. Instantly, the globe grew until it was the size of a beachball.

  “It looks like a planet,” said Emmie.

  “This time, you are quite correct, Emmie,” the scholar said. “The planet Yaroh Tar, to be exact. The globe contains the essence of the world – its rocks and mountains, its underground lakes, and, of course, its complete history.”

  Stepping forward to stand at her side, Socrat waved a hand towards the stacked shelves. “The library contains a globe for every planet in the universe,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice. “You will find nothing like it anywhere else in the universe.”