Warlord's Revenge (8 page)

The students looked at each other in horror.

“Oh no. What
now
?” John groaned.The alarm cut off abruptly. Clustering around John and Emmie, as they pinned the helpless warlord, the students looked around nervously.

“Can, I just say,” said Lishtig quietly, “if another warlord’s landed, this time I’m voting with Mordant.”

“Shut up, Lishtig. I can hear something,” hissed Emmie. “Something’s coming. It sounds like clapping—”

She closed her mouth, as Aristil appeared around the end of the row of shelves. Free of her bonds, the scholar was clapping her six hands together. Hyperspace High’s old headmistress no longer looked hunched and bent. She walked tall: ancient, but still full of life and energy. Behind her was the rest of the scholars. They were all applauding. A few at the back began cheering.

John looked around and saw in the faces of his classmates the same confusion he was feeling. Kaal shrugged. “I guess we did save them from the clutches of an evil warlord,” he said. “That’s probably worth a round of applause.”

Beneath John, Ogun shifted position. “Umm... guys,” he said. “This armlock
really
hurts, could you – you know – let go now?”

“We’ll let you go when the Galactic fleet gets here,” Emmie snapped back. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

“It’s quite all right,” Aristil said. “Emmie, John: please release your prisoner.”

“No. Ogun’s dangerous.”

“Please, Emmie,” said Aristil. “We are completely safe. I promise you.”

Slowly, John and Emmie let go of the warlord’s arms. Standing, they stepped back as Ogun rose to his feet, rubbing his shoulders. He winked at Emmie. “That’s quite some grip you have,” he said, chuckling.

Confused, John turned to face Aristil and the still-clapping scholars. “What... what’s happening here?” he asked.

Socrat moved forward to stand beside Aristil. “A test,” he said. “The invasion of Kerallin was a test we created to see how each of you would react in a situation that demanded courage, physical fitness, leadership, teamwork, and applying your knowledge in extreme circumstances.” Reaching out, he took Ogun’s hand and shook it warmly. “Thank you so much for coming, Ray-ool. It has been a pleasure to see you again after all these years. Your acting skills are a marvel to watch. Amazing. We will have to make use of you again next time if you can find the time.”

Emmie looked up at Ogun, bewildered. “You’re not a warlord?” she asked.

“Ray-ool Kalaam, at your service,” replied “Ogun”, bowing with another chuckle. “I’m an actor: star of Oravia’s favourite soap opera,
Nebula Zone Twelve
. It’s been a pleasure working with you all.” Stepping forward, he clapped enormous talons onto John and Emmie’s shoulders. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

John fought a sudden urge to break out of the actor’s grip and run. Looking up at into the scaled, dragon-like face with its twisted horns and great golden crest, it was difficult to believe he wasn’t a fearsome intergalactic warlord. “So, none of it was true?” he gasped.

Ray-ool Kalaam grinned down at him, wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils. “Well, I’m not a warlord, but I
did
go to Hyperspace High,” he answered. “I remember my own test very well. The scholars ‘accidentally’ turned a twenty-metre Danarian Murderbeast loose and we had to recapture it. Of course, it was one of Silva’s clever robots, programmed not to actually harm anyone, but we didn’t know that. If you thought Ogun was bad, you should try staring down the throat of a howling Murderbeast!”

John looked from the actor, to the scholars, and back again. His jaw moved up and down, but no words came out.

“But we were in real danger,” Kaal said, sounding angry. “The droids had guns. Some of us were hurt. Queelin’s arm was broken. We could have been killed in the fire!”

“Your classmates have been watching your progress on holo-screen in the canteen,” said Aristil softly. “Queelin Temerate was completely healed two minutes after you all left for the library. The lasers were weak, just red light really, though no one was going to notice that in the heat of battle. Meanwhile, we were monitoring the situation closely at all times. If any of you had been in serious danger, the test would have been stopped immediately.”

“But... but...” stammered Kaal.

“Did you really expect only to answer a few questions and give a presentation?” asked Aristil. “Hyperspace High is the greatest school in the universe. We demand more from you than the ability to repeat what you have learnt in your lessons.”

“Thousands of years ago, the scholars found that the only accurate way to assess students was to put them in a situation where they did not know they were being tested. For that reason, and to protect the Scholars’ privacy, we ask that you never speak of what happened here.”

“Did we pass?” Emmie asked abruptly. “After putting us through all that, you could at least tell us whether we’ve passed or not.”

Aristil’s wrinkled face lit up with a grin. Her eyes glittered. “The results of your test will be given to the headmaster,” she said. As the students started to protest, she held up a hand. Her grin widened. “But I think we might be able to give you a clue.”

As she finished, the old scholars burst into applause once more. A few cheers turned into a gale. John felt sharp talons digging into his shoulder. He and Emmie looked up at the actor. “Well done,” said Ray-ool Kalaam. “I think you passed.”

As the cheering subsided, Aristil smiled at Emmie again. “This doesn’t mean you can neglect your Hyperspace History studies, though,” she said.

Emmie returned her grin. “Fighting Ogun, nearly being burnt alive, and then drowned was
much
easier than your questions,” she said. “I’m going to have nightmares about standing on that stage in front of the scholars of Kerallin for a very long time.”

“Oh, we’re not that bad once you get to know us,” laughed Aristil. “Come on, let’s find you some clean clothes and get some food inside you.” Taking Emmie’s arm, she led her towards the library exit, chatting as if she and Emmie were old friends. John could hear his friend giggling as they walked out into the sunshine.

John looked down to see Thushlar standing beside him. “Professor Dibali, your mathematics teacher, is an old pupil of mine,” the scholar said. “Now and then he writes to me. His last two letters have been full of praise for the talents of a certain young Earthling he teaches. I wondered if we might talk?”

John blushed. “Umm... ” he stuttered. “Thank you, sir,but I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“Tsh,” the old scholar wheezed. “We old people love to poke our noses in where they don’t belong. And when your nose is as big as mine, it gets a lot of practice.”

Laughing, John walked into the bright sunlight with the hunched old scholar cracking jokes alongside him. Glancing behind, he saw that Kaal was already deep in conversation with Deem, Lishtig with a scholar whose skin was made up of multi-coloured patches, and Mordant with Ulara Forshart. As he watched, all the students were swamped by friendly scholars asking eager questions.

Socrat clapped his hands together. “Please!” he shouted in his creaking voice. “The students will be hungry and thirsty. We should continue chatting in the canteen.”

Twenty minutes later, John was sitting in a MorphSeat at a long wooden table inside one of the towers. The stone walls were pierced with holes allowing rays of sunlight to flood into the room, lighting vases of flowers from Kerallin’s gardens.

With a promise that he would be taking an interest in John’s future, Thushlar had reluctantly let go of his arm long enough for John to take a Sonic Shower and change into a fresh uniform. A Meteor Medic had taken care of his cut, dabbing a colourless paste into it with its slender robotic fingers. John ran a hand over his cheek. The skin was smooth, and looked as though it had never been touched.

Scholars walked around the table, putting glasses of goldberry juice and bowls of grey mush in front of each student. Taking a sip of the juice, John looked at the contents of the bowl and wrinkled his nose. After everything that had happened, he had been hoping for something more appetizing, preferably his mum’s macaroni cheese.

“Hey, John,” Lishtig laughed across the table. “You should have seen your face when Socrat told us the whole attack had been a test. You looked like you’d been hit by a meteorite.”

“He wasn’t the only one,” said Emmie from the seat next to John’s. “I never thought for a second that dusty old scholars could be so... so... devious and
sneaky
.” Looking up, she caught Aristil’s eye. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s all right, dear,” Aristil said with a grin. “I don’t mind being devious and sneaky, but a little less of the ‘old’ and ‘dusty’, if you don’t mind.”

“It all seemed so real,” said Kaal. “I’d never have guessed that Ogun wasn’t really a warlord.”

“Well, I am a
great
actor,” said Ray-ool Kalaam at the end of the table. “You should read the reviews of the last 4-D film I was in.” He pulled out a ThinScreen and started scrolling down pages. “In fact, I think I have them here.”

Seeing the looks he was getting, the actor put his ThinScreen away. “Only joking,” he grinned. Dipping a spoon into his bowl of grey mush and turning to Aristil, he continued, “The food is even better than last time I was here, Aristil. Perfectly cooked Hortfish supreme with Vacheese.”

“What’s he talking about?” John whispered to Kaal.

“The food. Haven’t you tried it yet?”

“No, it’s just grey mush. Looks awful.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” Kaal answered. He nodded towards Ray-ool. “Like him. I’m still not completely certain he
isn’t
an evil galactic warlord.”

John dipped a spoon in the bowl and forced himself to try a mouthful of the mush. As soon as his lips closed around it, he sat up straighter, eyes wide with shock. Swallowing, he yelped, “My mum’s macaroni cheese! It’s my mum’s macaroni cheese. But how?”

Passing behind John’s chair, Socrat passed to pat him on the shoulder. “Remember. The scholars do not choose to pass on
all
their knowledge,” he said, three of his eyes winking.

“Pay no attention to Socrat,” said Aristil. “We call it comfort food. It’s a simple invention that tells your brain that whatever food you are craving most is in your mouth. The only reason we haven’t shared it with the universe is that we don’t want everyone supposing that we think about our bellies all day. The Scholars of Kerallin are supposed to think about
serious
things.”

“Well, this is
seriously
good,” John replied heaping his spoon with comfort food.

“So, what did you think of our test?” Socrat asked the table.

“Scary,” said Werril. “I haven’t been so terrified since we crash-landed on Zirion Beta. Or that time we got caught up in the Subo-Goran battle on Archivus Major.”

“It was painful,” said Queelin, flexing her arm.

“Thinking about it, those soldier droids were pretty easy, though,” said Gobi-san-Art. “I could have taken them all out on my own.”

“Thanks for leaving us some, Gobi,” said Lishtig. “Droid fighting was the best bit.”

“I
told
you, Silva. Didn’t I tell you?” wheezed Thushlar. “I could have made better droids in my lunch hour. You
always
make them too easy.”

Silva looked up from a conversation he was having with Raytanna. Sunlight glittered on his metal mask. “Every year we have this argument, Thushlar,” he said. “The droids were based on the standard WarDrone model, and I’m sure Queelin didn’t think they were easy to beat. If we let
you
make them, the students would never have a chance.”

Soon, the whole table was laughing and arguing about whether the soldier droids had fought well.

“MY DROIDS FAILED ME,” boomed Ray-ool, sounding like Ogun. “With better servants, I could have CONQUERED THE GALAXY.”

“Well, I’m with Werril,” said John eventually. “When I first saw Ogun, I thought my knees were going to give way. I was terrified the whole time.”

“Me, too,” said Emmie. “Especially when he threw Aristil against the hoverbus. Didn’t that hurt?”

“I was wearing thick padding beneath my robes,” said Aristil, “as Ray-ool knew.” She patted the actor on the shoulder.

“The scholars acted brilliantly, too,” said Kaal. “You all completely convinced me.”

Mordant snorted in scorn. “Really?” he said. “I knew all along that the test was a set-up. I didn’t like to say anything because the scholars had gone to so much trouble, but it was obvious.”

Around the table, students giggled. John, Emmie, and Kaal looked at each other, grinning. Each of them knew exactly what the others were thinking:

Yeah, right.

John’s second bowl of comfort food had tasted like lasagne in his mouth, the third an ice cream sundae. By the time Aristil announced that it was time for the students to return to Hyperspace High, he couldn’t have eaten another thing.

Goodbyes took a while. Ray-ool Kalaam returned to his ship after making every student promise, at least three times, to watch
Nebula Zone Twelve
and presenting each them each with an autographed poster
.
Thushlar reappeared and pressed several data chips on maths from his own collection into John’s hands. Emmie and Aristil chatted and hugged several times, while Kaal and Deem talked about the latest advances in technology and Derrilian sports results.

Even Mordant Talliver found it difficult to get away from Ulara Forshart. The tiny scholar with huge spectacles seemed to have developed a fondness for the half-Gargon boy. “And how is your dear mother? I remember her very well,” John heard her say. Looking embarrassed, Mordant quickly changed the subject.

Across the room, Silva and Raytanna were still swapping notes. “Once you have finished your studies on Hyperspace High, you would be welcome here as Kerallin’s youngest-ever scholar,” the metal-faced scholar said.

“Leave her alone, Silva,” Aristil told him. “Raytanna will be welcome here in a few hundred years but I’m sure she will have more interesting things to do with her life than spend it with a lot of old fogies.”

“
You
might be an old fogey, Aristil—” Silva began, his face breaking into a wide grin.

“Please, scholars,” interrupted Socrat. “The day has been long. We must get the students on their way and there is a stop to make first.”

“Where are we going now?” John asked Emmie and Kaal, as they fell in together outside the canteen building.

They both shrugged.

“It seems as if we are returning to the library,” said Raytanna after a while.

Lishtig groaned. “I bet the scholars want us to clear up the mess we made in there before they let us go.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” John replied, feeling guilty. The incredible Library of Kerallin had been completely devastated. “So many globes got broken. All that knowledge lost...”

The sentence went unfinished, as the class stepped into the library.

“Does this answer your question, John Riley?” asked Socrat, sweeping an arm out and raising several of his many eyebrows.

Droids, similar to those from Ogun’s army, were hard at work – busy repairing the library. Some were restoring the fire-damaged shelves, while others were taking the globes out of their packing trays and putting them back on the shelves. Half of the library was already back to normal, with a globe glimmering in every compartment.

“All the information the globes carry is collected by a giant server deep underground,” Socrat told him. “The globes themselves are easily replaced.”

“In fact, we have made copies of your home worlds for each of you to take back to Hyperspace High,” Aristil said. “A souvenir of your time on Kerallin and a gift from the scholars, given with our very best wishes.”

John hardly knew what to say as Socrat pressed a tiny Earth globe into his hands. “This is amazing... just
awesome
,” he babbled.

“Be careful how you use it,” Socrat told him, seriously. “The gift is a sign of the scholars’ trust in you. The globe can show you things about your planet that are hidden to most. You must choose to use that knowledge – or not use it – with wisdom.”

“I–I’ll do my best,” said John.

“We know you will,” said Aristil. “Now, it is time for you to leave. Please follow us to the hoverbus.”

As they sped towards the purple pyramid for the last time, the students chattered and joked as they checked out each others’ home worlds. John finally got a chance to see Emmie’s parents. Peering at her globe, he saw that her mother had the same silvery hair as her daughter, cascading down her back in an ornate style. But whereas Emmie’s eyes were deep navy-blue, her mother’s were golden. “Wow, she’s almost as beautiful as you, Emmie,” he blurted, without thinking what he was saying. Feeling his face burning, he mumbled, “Ugh, I mean... that is...”

“Thanks, John,” Emmie said, giggling. “This is my dad.”

Grateful for the change in subject, John looked at a tall, slender Silarian with silver hair tinged slightly blue. He was standing at a podium before a roomful of beings.

“Whoa, he looks important.”

“He’s on the Galactic Council,” Emmie said. “I wish he wasn’t. It means he spends most of his time away from home.”

“This is my mum,” Kaal interrupted. “Look, she’s feeding my little sister her first flavworms.”

John peered at Kaal’s globe just in time to see a baby Derrilian throwing worms into the air, her small, leathery wings beating in excitement. Kaal’s mother was trying to catch them all before they hit the floor.

“Your mum looks a bit... umm... annoyed,” said Emmie.

“Yeah, my little sister is a handful,” replied Kaal. “Last time I was home she tried to eat my ThinScreen.”

“And here we are,” Socrat’s voice broke into the conversation.

John looked up to see the shining purple pyramid before them, the sun sinking behind it. The hoverbus slowed to a stop. As the class climbed down onto the grass, John took a last look around, wondering if he would ever again set foot on Kerallin.

“You’re gawping again,” Kaal told him with a nudge that almost sent John sprawling.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that,” John replied, rubbing his shoulder.

“Your knees will be pleased to hear that there is no need to pilot the pyramid all the way back to Hyperspace High, John Riley,” Socrat chuckled, as he led the students inside the ship and began touching the wall. Lights and panels lit up where his fingers passed. Within a few seconds, the whole pyramid was blazing with complicated star charts and flickering numbers.

“Coordinates laid in,” said the ship’s computer. “Teleport in sixty seconds.”

“The whole ship is going to teleport us all the way back to Hyperspace High?” Kaal gasped. “But it must be over a thousand light years away. Teleport technology isn’t that advanced.”

“Oh dear,” said Socrat, looking over his shoulder at Aristil. “We forgot to announce our latest teleportation research.”

“Yes, we must get around to that,” Aristil said, shrugging. “In the meantime, students, please take your seats and strap yourselves in.”

Thanking the two scholars, the class ran to the MorphSeats and obeyed the command.

“Goodbye, and good luck with your studies,” said Socrat with a friendly wave. “The headmaster will have your final report within the hour.”

“Send Lorem our regards,” Aristil added. “Tell him we are looking forward to the day he joins us on Kerallin.”

With that, the two scholars walked out into the last of the Kerallin sunshine. Behind them the pyramid wall rippled and became perfectly clear.

“Teleportation in five, four, three, two, one.”

The ship seemed to spin around John. For a moment he felt as though his body had split into a million different pieces and was zipping down a long tunnel of whirling light.

The sensation lasted for less than a heartbeat.

John blinked. The pyramid was floating in space. In the distance, shining among the stars, was the elegant white shape of Hyperspace High. As always, John felt a shiver of pride run through him when he saw the great spaceship.

“Welcome back,” Sergeant Jegger’s voice echoed around the ship. “We’ll bring you in with the force fields. Sit tight, this will take a few moments.”

Lorem was at the dock to greet the returning students as they emerged from the pyramid, an Examiner floating at his side. Chattering loudly and clutching their globes, the class thronged around him.

“We passed,” Emmie told him, grinning. “I made a mess of the questions, but we
passed
. I’ve never been so relieved in my life.”

“We didn’t just
pass
, we totally kicked butt. There was this warlord, headmaster, only he wasn’t really a warlord, he was this actor guy, and—” Lishtig babbled.

Lorem raised a finger to his lips. “You must not speak of your adventures on Kerallin,” he said. “Only say that you have been examined by the scholars and passed their tests.”

“The scholars were really cool,” said John. “I don’t know what I was so nervous about.”

“You rose to the challenge, John Riley, as I knew you all would.” Looking around, the headmaster smiled. “I see that the scholars have sent you back with gifts and that tells me everything I need to know for the moment. Well done, I am proud of you all.”

“Rule 274C: all students must remain in their dormitories after lights out,” the Examiner droned. “Punishment for transgressions: double detention. Return to your rooms immediately.”

“The Examiner is right,” said Lorem with another smile. “All of you have had a long day and need rest. Plus, the scholars’ report will be arriving soon, and I must admit I want to get back to my study to read it.”

Still talking excitedly, the students made their way to their dormitories. After saying good night to Emmie, Kaal and John slipped into their own room.

“Good evening,” said Zepp’s voice, as they sank into the squashy sofas. “Can I offer you hot drinks?”

“That would be great, Zepp,” sighed John. “Hot chocolate for me, please.”

“Liquidized blindbeetles for me, thanks,” said Kaal.

The two of them looked at each other, and then at the virtual reality helmets on the low table between them, and then back at each other again.

“Boxogle?” asked Kaal, with a grin.

“Hmmm,” said John, yawning and glancing longingly at his bed pod. “It’s tempting, but I think I’ve done enough fighting for one day.”

“Ha, you’re only saying that because you saw my new move on Kerallin. I am going to
crush
you.”

“You think so, do you?”

Steaming mugs appeared in the drinks dispenser hatch. “The headmaster has just announced that there will be a special assembly at oh-seven-hundred-hours,” said Zepp. “I strongly suggest that you sleep. In fact, if you even
look
at Boxogle, I will fry every circuit in the games console.”

“You can’t do that,” gasped Kaal, shocked.

“
Hello
– I’m the ship’s computer,” said Zepp, sounding surprisingly smug for a computer. “I can do pretty much anything I like on Hyperspace High.”

“Well, that settles it,” said John, yawning. “I’m going to bed.”