by Zac Harrison
“But—” John began.
“Perhaps if you had a little more faith in yourself, things wouldn’t seem so bad. Of course, it would help if you made sure the inefficient lump of goo you call a brain always had enough sleep.”
John grinned. He couldn’t hide anything from the computer.
“I might add that no problem was ever solved by sitting around feeling sorry for yourself,” Zepp added. “Why don’t you take a night off, have some fun, and get to bed on time?”
“Thanks, Zepp. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good friend?”
“No. No, they haven’t,” replied the computer, sounding taken aback and pleased at the same time.
“Well, it’s true.”
Just then, the dormitory door hissed open.
“John!” yelled Kaal, running into the room, his wings flapping in excitement. “You’ve got to come, now.”
“What?” John scrambled to the edge of his bed pod. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” said Emmie Tarz, walking in behind the big Derrilian. “There’s a special showing at the 4-D cinema. It starts in five minutes.”
“Vartexia arranged it,” Kaal jabbered. “One of Archivus Major’s most famous exhibits is a frozen battle between the Goran and the Subo, so she asked the cinema to show Battleground Zero. It’s a classic. Come on, what are you waiting for?”
“Hang on, what’s a 4-D cinema?” John asked.
Emmie and Kaal stopped and looked at each other. “He’s never seen a 4-D movie, Kaal,” said Emmie, with mock seriousness. “I don’t suppose they have them on Earth.”
“Well, Emmie, then it’s our duty to make sure he does,” replied Kaal. “You grab his right arm, I’ll take the left.”
Laughing, the two of them hauled John out of his bed pod. John allowed himself to be hustled through the door, joining in their laughter. Zepp’s right, he thought to himself. No point in worrying all night.
* * *
“So what happens now?” John whispered. They were sitting in a dark, cave-like room. In the Centre, about sixty students sat in MorphSeats, which moulded to the shapes of their bodies in the same way as the seats in the Xi-Class Privateers.
“Wait and see. Here, have some Walja Tots for the movie,” Kaal replied, passing John a bag.
Excitedly waiting for the 4-D film, John had temporarily forgotten how revolting Kaal’s food looked in the canteen every day. Without thinking, he popped a Walja Tot in his mouth. “Ugh, they taste like fishy blue cheese,” he gagged.
“How can you not like Walja Tots? They’re delicious.”
The student in front of them turned his head. He looked like a white bat. “Shhhh,” he hissed. “The movie’s starting.”
Dim lights went out. In the darkness, John felt like he was floating in space. He blinked in astonishment as he realized he was floating in space. All around him, above and below, stars twinkled. A comet flashed past, so close he could almost reach out and touch it. Planets whirled around him. The temperature in the room had dropped to freezing, and the gravity was gone. John felt goosebumps crawling up his arms as he floated free of his seat, slowly turning in the depths of space.
“W-w-wow,” he croaked.
“Shhhh.”
A deep voice boomed in the silence. “For every species there comes a time when it takes its first footsteps into the unknown darkness beyond the stars.” The voice paused for a moment and a star lit up. John felt like he was hurtling through space as it became bigger and bigger, before seeing planets spinning around the star.
“One sun, two planets,” the voice continued. “Suboran, belonging to the Subo, a species with a history of bloodshed and battle. Gora Prime, belonging to the proud and independent Goran. When the Subo discovered the secrets of space travel, they turned upon the neighbouring planet and started a war that raged out of control...”
The scene changed. Now John found himself sitting on a rock by the edge of a sea. Gravity had returned, and the MorphSeat had become hard with sharp edges. A salty wind blew across the scene, tangling John’s hair.
“...A WAR THAT ALMOST DESTROYED THE GALAXY!” boomed the voice. Instantly, there was a heavy rumbling. The rocks shook and strange, four-winged birds took to the sky, crying in terror. John turned his head. Over the crest of a craggy hill an oddly shaped, bright-red tank appeared. It stopped for a second, then crashed down the rocks towards him.
“Will you be quiet!” snapped the bat-like student in front. John hadn’t realized that he’d yelped in shock. “Haven’t you ever seen a 4-D movie before?”
John was unable to take his eyes off the tank thing. Now he realized that it wasn’t on wheels but on tens of short, heavily armoured legs. Great crab-like pincers jutted from its body. As it ran past, he could smell it. He realized it wasn’t a machine at all, but an alien creature.
Just as the alien was about to crush the audience beneath its weight, it changed course. A hole opened in its crusty armour. In a voice like a whirlwind, it bellowed, “FOR GORA PRIME!” and crashed into the sea. A huge wave rolled up the rocks. John gasped as cold water hit him.
“Into the sea. The Goran spy escaped into the water!”
John spun around, as the booming voice shouted behind him. Dozens of massive, seal-like creatures had appeared on the craggy rocks around him. Small, dark eyes flashed in their grey faces. Their blubbery bodies moved forward on grasping limbs that ended in webbed claws. Each one had a sharp metal spike jutting out of its forehead. These, John guessed, must be the Subo.
“After it, you cowards! Quickly,” roared one of the seal creatures, exposing its terrifying teeth and long, hideous tongue. “I want it dead. A reward for the Subo who kills it.”
“Yes, General Klort!” shouted what John assumed must be Subo soldiers. Waddling forward with surprising speed, they splashed into the ocean, soaking John once more.
The scene changed again and again, as the story of the brave Goran spy battling through enemy lines to carry Subo battle plans back to Gora Prime unfolded. John barely knew where to look. The movie was so real, it was as if he was experiencing the action himself, sometimes soaked to the skin in icy waters and sometimes burned by a desert sun. As the final battle reached its peak, he could no longer contain his excitement. Risking another shushing, he whispered, “This is freaking amazing,” in Kaal’s direction.
“Yeah,” Kaal replied. “They do it with HoloProjectors, Nerve Stimulators, and Sense Enhancers. You’re not actually wet; your body just thinks it is...”
“Gahhhhh!” John’s shout cut off Kaal mid-sentence. The Goran had been about to board its ship, when a monster leaped from the sandy ground where it had been hiding. The floor rumbled beneath John’s feet. He recognized the long, grey form of General Klort as it twisted in the air and bellowed a war cry. As it turned, the long, sharp laser-horn protruding from the general’s bulbous head plunged straight for John’s heart. Unable to stop himself, he lurched back blindly to avoid the point, flailing his arms and falling from his MorphSeat in sheer terror.
“Stupid first-year. You totally ruined the end of the movie.”
John opened his eyes to see the bat-student glaring at him.
On hearing a giggle, he looked up. His head was in Emmie’s lap. She grinned down at him, her eyes glistening with amusement.
“Did you enjoy the movie, Earthling?” she giggled, patting him on the forehead.
Still shaking with shock, John staggered to his feet as the lights came on. “That was awesome,” he gasped. “Thank goodness it was just a movie. I’d hate to get into a fight with one of those Subo things for real.”
Chapter 4
Just as Zepp had predicted, John felt more positive after a good night’s sleep. The breakfast that appeared from the food dispenser at his table in the canteen also helped: ice-cold orange juice and a fruit salad, f
ollowed by a mug of tea and scrambled eggs on toast. By the time he took a place between Kaal and Emmie on a MorphSeat in lecture hall A, he was beginning to think he might actually get to Archivus Major. After all, as Emmie had pointed out over breakfast, he was shaping up to be a good pilot. If Mordant Talliver hadn’t caused the crash the day before, he would have flown the Privateer as well as anyone in the class.
Laying his ThinScreen on the small desk in front of him, John looked down towards the lecturer. A short being with an enormous, blotchy head stood talking to the headmaster. John’s first impression was that the new arrival looked nervous. His hands moved constantly, patting his head and loose robes as if to check that they were still there. John shrugged and turned his attention elsewhere. He was getting used to seeing the aliens of many different worlds and knew the twitchy movements might be completely normal for the small being.
With only one day to go before the field trip, excitement was running high. Many of the students had been reading about the exhibits on the museum planet, and each wanted to see something different.
“I’m going to the tomb treasures of Gormib the Reaper,” said Bareon, a few seats down from John.
“Sheesh, who wants to look at a pile of old jewels,” cut in Queelin Temerate. “I want to see the space galleon Corsair.”
“No way, it’s got to be the Star Dragon,” Kaal insisted.
Only Mordant looked less than pleased, John noticed as he looked around. The half-Gargon was leaning back in his chair, tentacles behind his head and a scowl on his face. G-Vez bobbed about him, lights flashing. John couldn’t hear what it was saying, but whatever it was made Mordant’s scowl deepen.
“A very good morning to you all,” said Lorem, stepping forward and addressing the students with his usual cheer. As the room fell silent, he continued. “It is my great honour to present to you Graximus Greyfore, the head curator of Archivus Major and the only living resident on the planet. He will be giving you some very important information this morning, so please listen carefully.”
Stepping back, the headmaster gave the being a small bow.
Graximus Greyfore coughed. “Ahh... y-yes... w-well now...” he stammered in a high, squeaky voice, before stopping to cough again. “G-g-good morning.” The curator seemed to realize he wasn’t making a good impression and took a deep breath. “As your headmaster says, I am G-Graximus Greyfore... yes, Graximus Greyfore,” he continued, sounding only very slightly more confident. “I am here to instruct you on how to b-behave on Archivus Major. First, you must not touch anything...”
“Perhaps you might start by telling the students why these rules are so important,” Lorem interrupted gently.
“A-ahh, yes. Of course,” Greyfore stuttered. “Th-the rules are not only to make s-sure that our exhibits are not damaged, but also to ensure your own s-safety. Most of our artefacts are ancient and very d-delicate. Many are extremely d-dangerous. One touch in the w-wrong place could have disastrous consequences. H-hideously mangled bodies, killer viruses released, destruction raining down...” At last, Greyfore began warming to his audience. John listened with rapt attention, as the large-headed curator listed the terrors that might be unleashed on Archivus Major.
“I think they get the message,” said Lorem firmly, as Greyfore began detailing some of the more horrific ancient weapons displayed on the planet.
“Security is extremely t-tight on Archivus Major,” Greyfore continued, changing tack. “As y-your headmaster s-said, I am the only l-l-living being on the p-planet, but I frequently t-t-travel to acquire new collections. I w-w-will not be there when you v-visit, but everything is c-completely automated to p-prevent contamination. No one lands without pre-approval and all approaching visitors are DNA ch-checked. Once on the planet, you will find a force of Omega-bots, whose job it is to p-protect the exhibits. They will not h-h-hesitate to remove you from the planet if the rules are breached. Rule one: you must not t-touch anything unless given permission to do so. Rule t-two: the Omega-bots must be obeyed at all times. Rule three...”
For the next hour, the strange curator outlined the planet’s rules. There were hundreds. Despite having had a full night’s sleep, Greyfore’s speech was beginning to make John feel drowsy, when he finally said, “As you can see, we take s-s-security very seriously. S-so, it is crucial that you remain alert at all t-times.”
“Thank you, Graximus,” said Lorem. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to take some questions from the students?”
The curator nodded his enormous head. “Certainly, h-h-headmaster. And b-b-before I forget, for security reasons, I will need to see the Galactic Fleet Holo-registrations for all the ships t-t-travelling to Archivus Major.”
“Of course,” Lorem said. “I will just have a word with Sergeant Jegger. Students, I’m sure you will show our guest every courtesy while I step out.”
The curator’s eyes followed Lorem, as the headmaster flashed into a ball of energy and sped away. Then Greyfore turned back to the students.
“Before I take your questions, perhaps you would allow me to ask a few of my own.”
John looked up, surprised at the small curator’s change of tone. He shrugged. Perhaps the headmaster had made him nervous, or perhaps he was more comfortable now that his speech on Archivus Major was finished.
“First, is there anyone here who likes vapourball?”
Several students looked at each other. “Weird question for the curator of Archivus Major to ask,” John whispered to Kaal.
“Maybe he’s a bit, you know, eccentric,” Kaal replied. “He does live on that planet all alone.”
Mordant Talliver’s tentacle was up in the air in a flash. “I love vapourball,” he said.
“Excellent,” chuckled Greyfore, stepping down from the podium and walking over to where Mordant was sitting. Taking a hand out of his pocket, he placed it on the half-Gargon’s shoulder. “I’m sure you know the Vapourball Championship is being held on Plarz.”
“Yes, I know that,” replied Talliver.
“Plarz is only a few light years away from Archivus Major. You’d like to go there instead of Archivus Major, wouldn’t you?” Greyfore said intensely, staring straight into Talliver’s eyes – any trace of his stutter had disappeared.
“Yes, I would like to go to Plarz.”
To John, Mordant’s voice suddenly sounded strangely flat. He glanced at Kaal, but the Derrilian was making notes on his ThinScreen and didn’t seem to have noticed.
The curator removed his hand from Mordant’s shoulder. “Such a shame you’ll be visiting our exhibits instead,” he chuckled. “Now, who would like to earn extra marks?” he asked, reaching into his robes and pulling a small device from his pocket.
Emmie’s hand was in the air instantly. “Extra marks,” John heard her whisper. “If anyone needs those around here, it’s me.”
Me too, John thought, wishing he’d been quick enough to get his hand in the air first. However, Graximus Greyfore was already standing next to Emmie, one hand on her shoulder, the other showing her the device.
“As you know, photography has never been allowed on Archivus Major,” he said, looking around the class. “However, we have just developed a device that will capture 4-D images without interfering with any artefacts.” Holding up the small black cube, he continued. “We call it the Comet Creative. This student will be the first to photograph our exhibits. The images she takes will be the first ever taken on the planet’s surface.”
Greyfore paused for a moment and stared deeply into Emmie’s eyes. “This prototype will only take a few pictures. Make sure you only photograph the Goran–Subo battleground. It’s our most famous exhibit. People will want to see it first. Have you got that?”
“I will only photograph the Goran–Subo battleground,” Emmie promised in a flat voice, taking the Comet Creative.
“Let’s keep it a secret for now,” the cu
rator chuckled, patting Emmie’s shoulder and looking round at the other students. “Imagine how surprised and proud your headmaster will be when he finds out your classmate’s images will be seen by the whole galaxy.”
“Yeah, right,” sneered Mordant. “Emmie Tarz is as dumb as a box of Lorpsnails. You’ll probably get two hundred pictures of the inside of her pocket.”
“Very clever, Master Talliver,” G-Vez said in its haughty voice. “Huurl himself would be dazzled by your sharp wit.”
John ignored the small machine. “Shut your mouth, Mordant,” he snapped, fingers curling into fists. “At least she’s not—”
“Please, please,” said Greyfore, holding up a hand for silence. “Thank you, Ms... ahh... Tarz, is it?”
Emmie nodded.
“I’m sure you’ll do very well,” the curator said, smiling as he made his way back to the podium. “Ahh, h-headmaster,” he said, as the door opened and Lorem entered with Ms Vartexia.
Lorem was holding the Holo-registrations. “Forgive me for taking so long, Graximus, but I wanted to introduce my travel companion for this excursion. May I present Ms Vartexia.”
The curator bowed to the Elvian instructor, then looked over the glowing registration certifications. “G-g-good, good,” he said, nodding his head. “Everything looks to be in order.” John noticed that the curator’s voice sounded high and squeaky again, and his stutter had returned. “Now, I’ve an urgent m-meeting with our artefact c-collectors on Crigon, but I d-do have time for one or t-two more questions.”
Kaal’s hand was the first up.
“Y-yes,” Greyfore stuttered. “What would you l-like to know about Archivus M-major.”
“What is the Goran–Subo battleground?” Kaal asked.
“Ahh, our most famous exhibit,” Graximus Greyfore said, nodding again. “It is the last battle of the Goran–Subo war. The longest, most glorious war in galactic history. A war that lasted a thousand years.”
