“Who was that anyway?” Zeke asked.
“Must be the new psychokinesis teacher. Looked like an Inuit, didn’t he?”
Neither Zeke nor Pin-mei were familiar with the native peoples of North America so they took Scuff’s word for it.
“All this exercise is giving me an appetite,” Scuff said. “Who’s for a quick Marsburger before class?”
“Hailey! Hailey! I want a word with you!”
A lanky figure was hurrying across the yard.
“Oh no, Swallow!” Scuff said and pulled a face.
Poor Jimmy Swallow returned from the Noctis Labyrinthis a changed person. No longer the confident captain of basketball, Jimmy Swallow was now a blabbering, twitchy bundle of nerves. And he blamed Zeke for this sorry transformation.
“Pretend you didn’t hear him,” Scuff whispered. Giggling, the three friends bolted back up the steps and dived into the Grand Hall.
Chapter Two
Somewhere in a Dream
Zeke stood on high ground, looking down onto the red wilderness. It was Mars, unmistakably, but where? The pebbled plain stretched to the horizon, without a single canyon to box it in. He was no longer in Mariners Valley. “I thought these dreams had finished,” he said to himself.
Zeke spied something in the distance, something like a bloody rag. The back of his neck tingled. It was crawling towards him!
“Dthrznii.”
What! Zeke wheeled round. Someone had whispered in his ear! He scanned his surroundings. No one! He was alone on the slope of a vast mountain. The ground rose steadily for miles, fading into the ochre haze. Definitely no one.
He glanced back. The creeping rag was nearer. Zeke could make out its limbs shuffling through the dirt. It mustn’t catch him. He took a step and then another, uphill and away. He picked up the pace. A sudden light dazzled his eyes, as though sunshine was bouncing of a mirror.
“Dthrznii fgakah thrthtzt,” whispered a voice. The words were Hesperian, the language of the long dead Martians.
“Not ready to see, what?” Zeke replied in the same alien tongue.
“Mchx-dthfkii.”
That phrase again. It bubbled up from the swamp of his subconscious over and over. But never with meaning. What on Earth, or rather Mars, did it mean?
“No!” Zeke cried.
Hands grabbed his feet, horrible rotting human hands. He toppled over, screaming as the rag thing pulled him down…
Zeke opened his eyes to darkness. As one of the ‘officially poor’ students at the Chasm, he was allotted a windowless, subterranean cave. When the photon-lamps were dowsed the room went as dark as a black hole.
He lay under the sweaty sheets, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down. Just a nightmare, nothing to worry about, he was alright now.
But even as those thoughts formed Zeke had a sense he was not alone.
“Lights on,” he shrieked.
The stark radiance of the photon lamps revealed something so mad Zeke wondered if he was still dreaming. A seven-foot tall boulder towered next to his bed. It had a rich orange lustre, a little too polished to be natural, scarred with deep veins of white. Slowly, Zeke inched away and up, out of his bedcovers.
The thing was humming. Zeke stared at it, too shocked to talk. He had the strangest feeling he’d seen it before. But where? With a sinking heart he remembered. At the Infinity Trap! There had been a boulder just like this one, marking the way in. This was bad news, but maybe he could communicate with it?
Summoning up the alien expression he needed he said, “What are you?”
The rock’s veins glowed deep to its core.
“The Failsafe.”
It spoke with a deep rumble.
“Explain.”
“When you destroyed the Guardian the Failsafe activated. It protects against the threat.”
Zeke gulped. He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Protects what?”
“The Failsafe does not reveal the Makers’ secrets. Not to the threat.”
“You think I’m a threat, but I’m the one—”
“Who must be made safe.”
“And how exactly?”
“Protocol Dthoth-Thrith-Thrith recommends heat blasting.”
The boulder was transforming to a glassy translucence.
“This is a misunderstanding! You’ve got the wrong boy.”
“Only the threat can speak the Maker’s language.”
“Because one of their orbs filled my head with their language. I’ve done nothing wrong!”
A hum filled the air. Fire began building in the boulder’s heart.
“NO! NO! NO!”
Zeke squeezed his eyes shut and desperately wished himself out of the room. Nothing! His translocation skills were useless. Zeke leapt clear over the bed towards the door. But at the same time the whining noise faltered.
“Failsafe unable to secure target. Energy levels weak after the long hibernation. Must recharge.”
The auto-door swished across. Zeke hesitated in the threshold. Trembling he glanced back. The room was empty.
~~~
“So, it was some kind of rockbot?” Scuff ventured.
Zeke, Scuff and Pin-mei were hunched over their breakfasts at the far end of the Cranny Cafeteria. Condiments flew between tables as the students warmed up their psychic senses for the day. Bulky cleanomacs trundled to and fro collecting dirty plates.
Zeke shot his friend an impatient look. “Well, if you like. I believe all these Martian creatures are living machines; the orbs, Lutz’s Engraving, the Dust Devil and now this. Probably two billion years ago they looked very different. Over the aeons they’ve petrified.”
“Where do you think you saw this ‘rockbot’ before?” Pin-mei asked.
“Outside the Infinity Trap. Remember?”
Recognition dawned in her eyes.
“That boulder, Professor Magma called it a marker.”
“Yes, only maybe it was more of a guard,” Zeke said. “Perhaps it was dormant and we woke it up.”
Scuff frowned. “And it’s out to get you, bro? What are we going to do?”
Zeke bit his thumb. “I don’t know. Lutz thinks I’m a liar. There’s no way she’d believe me. I’m not going to her unless I have some kind of proof.”
His gaze drifted over to the students, queuing for their meals at the servomacs. A small blond boy returned his stare. His ice-blue eyes burned through the dim Martian morning. He smiled, revealing a set of huge teeth. Then he waved as if he had known Zeke forever.
Chapter Three
The Interplanetary Phone Booth
The landscape shimmered into existence. Orange sand stretched for miles. Dark slabs of basalt punctured the flatness, like man-sized slugs slithering from the dirt.
“Thanks for the translocation,” Zeke said.
Mariner Knimble took his hand off Zeke’s shoulder.
“You’re welcome, mate. Anything to avoid marking Year Three’s homework!”
Zeke shielded his face from the sun and looked into Knimble’s faraway blue eyes. Alistair Knimble was the Translocation teacher. He had thinning hair, a goatee beard and an Australian accent, and the only teacher so far that liked him. When the call was booked Zeke asked the mariner to take him to the booth.
“How far are we from the School?” Zeke asked.
“Around seventy klicks.”
“Rather a long way.”
Knimble gestured to the ribbon of rock stacked up along the horizon.
“The canyons seem quite small from this distance. But they block out a lot of radio signals. That’s why the booth’s here.”
The interplanetary phone booth stood nearby, the sole manmade object in an alien wilderness. Apart from a satellite dish on top, it resembled an ordinary phone box. And it was swathed in dust.
A small mac scuttled over to greet them, a cylinder shape with a domed head and four chunky wheels.
“I am the operatomac. Identification, please,” droned a tinn
y voice.
Knimble nudged Zeke in the ribs.
“Oh, yes,” Zeke answered. “Zeke Hailey.”
The mac’s head whizzed around, flashing and bleeping.
“Voice pattern confirmed. Zeke Hailey. Your call is scheduled from planet Earth. Do you accept?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
“Earth to Mars delay currently at 8 minutes and fifteen seconds.”
“Only eight? You’re in luck,” Knimble remarked.
A metallic hand popped out of the mac’s side and indicated to a dust-festooned bench.
“Please wait until present caller terminates.”
Zeke peered at the booth’s grimy windows. Someone was inside. Zeke followed Knimble over to the bench.
“You did put on your Triple X sunblock?” Knimble asked.
“Every day.” Zeke replied and sniffed his fingers. They reeked of the radiation-proof lotion, a mix of paraffin and coconut.
Minutes passed. The silence of the gigantic valley was crushing.
“Must remind you of home,” Zeke said, making a stab at conversation.
Knimble gave him an incredulous look.
“Well, Australia is full of deserts, right?” Zeke added.
Knimble snorted.
“A fair few, mate. But our deserts are blooming. Desert oaks, spinifex grass, all manner of bugs and goannas. This place is just dead.”
Knimble scooped up some regolith, then scattered it back to the ground.
“Ashes. Everywhere.”
Their eyes met and Zeke regretted it. Knimble had such a piercing stare, as if he could see into Zeke’s soul and discover the deepest secrets. And Zeke had a lot of secrets.
“We’ve got a while, Zeke. You might as well tell me.”
“Tell you, Sir?”
Knimble stroked his goatee.
“What really happened? Up at the Noctis Labyrinthis.”
Zeke looked at his dusty boots.
“Nothing, Sir.”
Zeke dared not confess that, to save his friends, he helped open a portal to another dimension. That a fellow student, Jasper Snod, along with the villains, was eaten alive by the Spiral. And that Zeke sealed the Spiral inside the portal forever.
The survivors never agreed to a conspiracy. But once back at the School they all fell quiet. It was as though a spell of secrecy possessed them. How could they tell anyone of those unimaginable horrors? And who would believe them? Could they explain what happened without being blamed? No, it was a lot easier to pretend. They were kidnapped by Professor Magma but escaped. They didn’t know where Magma and the others went.
Zeke drew up his shoulders.
“You’re not going to use telepathy, are you?”
“Reading minds without consent is against my oath,” Knimble reminded him. “And harmful. I’d need permission for a mind purge.”
“A what?” Zeke asked.
A muscular teenager fell out of the booth, filling the arid air with cusses. Drufus Slatts was a scruffy senior from the Chasm. “Eight minutes!” he bellowed at the operatomac.
“Need a hand getting back?” Knimble called out.
Seeing a teacher calmed Slatts down like a bucket of cold water. “No thanks, Sir,” he called back and hastily dematerialised.
The mac beeped.
“Mister Hailey. Call time imminent.”
Zeke leapt into the booth, closing the door for privacy. The interior was filthy and stank of sweat. The plasma screen crackled into life. A 3D image of Zeke’s mum appeared.
“Hello Mum. Are you alright?”
A little dial began ticking, counting the time it would take his words to reach Earth. He grasped why Slatts was so frustrated. All Zeke could do was gaze into his mother’s face, while radio waves were beaming through eight minutes of the emptiness of space.
Mum appeared older. Silver streaks overwhelmed her black locks. Wrinkles crept across her cheeks. Worst of all were her eyes, transformed into dark pools of sadness.
Zeke’s life in London seemed light years away. Those late nights in his bedroom, secretly planning his trip to Mars. Rehearsing the lies that would fool his way into the Chasm. Did he ever realise how much Mum would miss him?
But how else would he find his father? The Chasm was the first and last place to hold any clues. Zeke’s mother kept weakly smiling as the dial was counting back.
Oh no! If it took eight minutes to reach Earth, it would take another eight for a reply. A cauldron of feelings bubbled up inside Zeke’s heart. Anger, homesickness, guilt. He kicked the side of the booth. He peered out at Knimble, playing on his magnopad. He swore in Hesperian.
After an age, his mother’s smiled broadened.
“There you are, darling. Aunt Sylvia bought me a voucher for the booth. Wasn’t that lovely. How are you getting on?”
Sixteen minutes of waiting and Zeke’s tongue froze.
“I’m f-fine,” he stammered. “Absolutely fine.”
Another sixteen minutes.
“That’s good dear. Any friends yet? How about your studies?”
“Everything’s fine,” he blustered.
One minute. Two minutes. Three... Knimble was pacing and eyeing his watch. Five minutes. Six.
Zeke’s heart darkened, as if clouds were gathering overhead. How desperately he missed her. The timetable gave students little time to brood during the day. But on waking up and at bedtime, the memories of Mum sliced his heart like a blade.
Seven, nine, ten minutes. His despair was mounting. Fourteen, fifteen, fifteen and a half.
“That’s good dear. I’m fine too,” Mum said. Zeke knew she was lying.
“Great,” he replied. “We’re both fine.”
The dial restarted. Seconds passed like decades. The waiting, combined with the flare-up of emotions, was unbearable. Zeke swallowed hard. He needed to find his father. The sooner that was done, the sooner he could leave this wretched planet.
The dial was only four minutes from Earth, but he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Mum, everything’s fine. I love you. Look after yourself and...and...I love you.”
He slammed the end button with his fist and stormed out of the booth.
The operatomac lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Sir, care to complete a customer satisfaction survey?”
Chapter Four
Psychokinesis 101
The new teacher stood by the plasma screen, his head held high, his back straight. It was the man who saved Scuff the day before. The students shuffled in, nervously passing his eagle-eyed gaze.
Zeke slouched to the shadowy corners at the back, hoping as ever to avoid attention. Scuff joined him while Pin-mei, the dutiful student, opted for the front. The hint of a smile passed across the teacher’s broad angular face.
“My name is Bobby Chinook.”
A murmur of ‘hellos’ passed through the chamber.
“Not very enthusiastic. I expected as much. Maybe a little ‘Q and A’ might break the ice. What would you like to know about me?”
A silence settled as everyone waited for somebody else to ask something.
“What happened to Mariner Flounder?” Pin-mei piped up at last.
“Ah yes, my predecessor. He took early retirement. I understand an accident in the classroom rather unsettled him.”
Twenty heads turned and glared at Zeke.
“Are you an Eskimo, Sir?” Zeke asked to change the subject.
The mariner threw him an incredulous look. “The white man lumps all indigenous peoples of Northern America under that name. My forebears were called the Inupiat, the first inhabitants of Alaska. It’s the same as categorising you as European instead of English.”
Zeke blushed. “I see Sir, forgive my ignorance.”
The thin smile reappeared briefly.
Juanita Almera raised her hand.
“Did they live in snow houses, your ancestors?”
“Igloos? Many of them did, certainly. It’s hard for us to imagin
e what the Earth was like back then. Before the polar caps melted.”
Scuff closed the comic book he was furtively reading under the desk.
“There’s still ice at the South Pole. In the winters.”
“Not enough to live on, boy. Not enough to lower sea levels and drain the flooded lands of Bangladesh.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” Scuff persisted. “That all those people were relocated undersea.”
“Ah the ocean cities, like Sub-Pacifica. But that migration didn’t happen overnight. Decades of conflict marred the late twenty-first century before we colonised the ocean beds.”
“So you’ve never lived on the ice then?” asked a small boy from Austria.
Bobby Chinook chuckled softly. “As a matter of fact I have, just not on Earth.”
“Wow, you mean Jupiter’s moon? Europa?” Scuff ventured.
“Very good, I served my mariner’s apprenticeship on that snowy moon. At its protoplasm farms to be precise. The plantations, of course, are deep in the alien brine, but the surface is terra-formed. But still deadly. My ancestors’ skill for surviving in sub-zero were very useful there.
“What exactly is a protoplasm farm?” asked Dede, the Indonesian student.
Mariner Chinook’s impassive face gave way to a flicker of uncertainty. “Ah yes, well. That will be covered in future classes. My job is to teach psychokinesis. Please switch on your electrobooks and magnopads and—”
“One more question, Sir?” Zeke said with his hand up.
The teacher gave a slight nod.
“Why haven’t you gone Deep Side? That’s what most mariners do. Piloting colony ships to faraway planets?”
“Except those who elect to teach the next generation. Therefore you, me, this classroom.”
“But why, Sir?”
Chinook’s lips curled again, but whether in a grin or a growl Zeke couldn’t say.
“I see you’re as persistent as the Arctic salmon.”
The teacher’s eyes momentarily glazed over.
“I’m getting a brain-mail from the Principal’s Office. Is there a Zeke Hailey in the room?”
Zeke lifted his arm once again.
“You? I see you’re going to be a high profile student. Principal Lutz wants you in her office, pronto.”
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