Billows of steam rolled around the bathroom, as John soaked under a soapy spray. “What’s the time, Zepp?” he shouted over noisy jets of water that gushed from all directions.
“It is now five zero three and thirty-two seconds,” the computer replied. “You should think about getting dressed.”
“Okay, but could you turn the temperature down? A few seconds of cold should wake me up.”
“Yeeeow!” John yelled a second later. “Not that cold! Turn it off. Turn it OFF!”
“Awake now?” Zepp seemed to chuckle as the water cut off and whirring fans began blasting John with warm air.
“For a bunch of old wires and circuit boards, you have a real cruel streak. You know that, don’t you?” John complained, as he stepped out of the shower cubicle, completely dry but still shivering.
“Yes,” said the computer. “This might help you wake up, too.” Loud Earth rock music began playing.
John brushed his teeth, trying to keep his nerves under control. In a few minutes he would have to face the Examiners.
In his mind he went over everything that Sergeant Jegger had taught about flying the Xi-Class Privateer over the past two days. “Speed on the left, direction on the right,” he muttered to himself through a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.
Zepp startled him. “Message from the Examiners. Report immediately to hangar C for your flight test. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” John said. He pulled on his uniform. Then he headed out of the room. He got as far as the door before remembering to return to the sink to spit, rinse, and return the toothbrush to its holder.
Kaal’s head emerged from his bed pod just as John was leaving.
“Don’t forget,” he said, yawning, “we’re meeting at the Center for a celebration breakfast after you’ve passed.”
“If I pass.”
“You’ll pass,” said Kaal, as the door hissed shut.
* * *
“Proceed,” droned the Examiner.
“Uh, John Riley,” said John, his voice shaking.
A hatch opened in the side of the sleek, black spaceship. John sat in the pilot’s MorphSeat, and the harness strapped itself around his body.
One tiny mistake and I’ll be left behind. . . .
He didn’t finish the thought. Instead, he scolded himself, remembering Zepp’s advice. “Get a grip. I am good at this. Even Jegger said so,” he said out loud.
Feeling slightly more confident, he placed his hands on the armrests of the seat, setting his fingertips directly on the touchpad controls. Through the ship’s transparent shell, he looked toward the single Examiner floating close by, and nodded.
“Computer, disengage docking locks, start engines, and display speed,” he said, pushing down another wave of anxiety.
“Affirmative. Ready to launch, John Riley.”
From the corner of his eye, John saw red lights flash on the blank whiteness of the Examiner’s “head.” Its voice broke in through the Privateer’s intercom. “Maneuvers. First: circle the deck and make a rotating ninety-degree turn, taking a new stationary position at the hangar bay doors.”
John gulped. As he’d expected, the Examiner wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Computer: display course heading,” he said. New information flashed up on the transparent skin of the Privateer. John’s fingers were already moving across the touchpads.
He had barely finished the first maneuver when the Examiner issued new commands. One after another, John completed them flawlessly, his confidence growing steadily each time.
In the back of his mind, he wished Emmie was watching. This must be how she feels when she’s flying, he thought.
As he took the Privateer around the hangar in a series of turns, rolls, and swoops, he felt — for the first time — like he was a part of the ship.
“Land and exit Xi-Class Privateer,” said the Examiner at last. Its voice gave no clue as to whether it was satisfied or not.
“Okay, Riley, last one. Don’t mess this up,” John whispered through gritted teeth, as he brought the spaceship around and lined up for landing. “Computer, display docking guides,” he said.
Carefully, he brought the ship onto the deck. The Privateer landed smoothly.
Upon landing, the harness released, and John stumbled out on legs like jelly. He stood at attention in front of the Examiner.
* * *
Hands thrust deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and a scowl across his face, John walked out of the TravelTube at the Center, the place where most Hyperspace High pupils hung out in their free time.
A few feet away, his friends were leaning over one of the many balconies, watching students splashing in the waters of the small lake below. Tall trees with pink, yellow, and purple leaves towered over them, stretching toward the enormous clear dome above.
Dodging through the crowd, past Technomancer’s Gamestation and nodding at a few of the beings who wished him good morning, John slouched up to Kaal and Emmie.
“Hi, John,” Emmie started brightly. Seeing the look on his face, her own smile fell. “Oh no,” she continued.
“Bad luck,” said Kaal, clapping him on the shoulder with a strength that made John stagger. “Archivus Major’s not going to be the same without you.”
Unable to keep up the act, John grinned. “I made it!” he yelled. “I passed. I’m coming after all. I almost kissed the Examiner when it told me!”
Kaal’s and Emmie’s faces lit up.
“Awesome!” Kaal yelped with joy, his wings flapping as they always did when he was excited. “Hey, get off him, Tarz. Leave the Earthling alone.”
Reluctantly, John disentangled himself from Emmie’s hug. “So,” he said. “I believe there was talk of a celebration breakfast.”
“Special treat,” said Kaal. “The new Seefood restaurant on balcony eighteen. It’s tough to get in, but I put our names on the list there two days ago.”
“That sounds cool,” John said. “I love seafood. Never had it for breakfast before, but, hey, I’ve never been examined by a freaky floating robot before, either.”
“You’re going to love it,” said Kaal, clapping him on the shoulder again. “Especially after all that Earth muck you eat.”
Balcony eighteen was on the highest level of the Center, reached by a revolving, clear TravelTube. It was the first time John had been up so high and he looked at the view with awe, wondering what his friends from Earth would say if they were here.
Like a vast shopping mall, the Center was ringed with balconies, each with its own brightly lit shops and cafés. Even at this time of the morning, it was bustling with beings from every corner of the galaxy. Students who looked as though they had been constructed almost entirely from electronic parts were deep in conversation with creatures that flitted about on dragonfly wings. Some students hovered in anti-gravity suits, others had specially made helmets that allowed them to breathe the atmosphere of their home planets. The strangest being reminded John of a swarm of bees.
“Here we are: Seefood,” said Kaal, as the TravelTube door slid open.
John stared. Across the passageway was a restaurant. Above its door, outlined in pink neon lights, a huge eye winked at him. “Um . . . what’s this?” he asked nervously.
“Seefood,” said Emmie, making for the door. “You know: eyeballs. They’ve got Murlian Snowbeast eyeballs, eyeballs of the Deplar Flat Tiger, Pord eyeballs — every kind of eyeball you can think of.”
“She’s joking, isn’t she?” John asked hopefully, looking up at Kaal.
“Why would you think that?” replied Kaal, confused. “I’m having eyeballs of the Twilight Blink Lizard. Absolutely delicious.”
Stomach already heaving, John followed his friends into the restaurant.
“Table for three, Zepp,” said Kaal.
“Certainly, Kaal,” Zepp’s voice replied. “The table at the back of the restaurant has been reserved for you.”
The three friends slipped into MorphSeat stools. “And what will you be having this fine morning?” asked Zepp. “May I recommend the Zabda eyes, smothered with retina-fire hot sauce.”
Feeling queasier by the minute, John leaned on the circular silver table and tried to take his mind off eyeballs by looking around. It didn’t help. There were pictures of eyeballs everywhere, as well as decorative jars full of eyeballs and a huge glass eyeball slowly spinning in the middle of the restaurant. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for forgetting about his alien friends’ disgusting eating habits.
“Hmm. The Zabda eyes sound good. But do you have Derrilian Twilight Blink Lizard?” asked Kaal.
“Of course. Seefood has eyeballs from every planet you could name,” Zepp replied. “And for you, Emmie?”
“The Zabda eyes sound good. I’ll start with those,” said Emmie.
“Excellent choice. How about you, John?” Zepp asked.
“We don’t eat eyeballs on Earth,” said John faintly.
“Actually, that’s not true,” replied the computer. “Many Earthlings enjoy sheep’s eyes. Would you like to try some?” Zepp stopped. “Oh, I just checked. We don’t have any sheep’s eyes. You could try the Jink-Jink eyeballs; they taste almost the same.”
“Is there any chance you could just make me an omelet?”
“An omelet?”
“You know: eggs, a splash of milk, some salt and pepper, butter . . . ”
“I know what an omelet is, John, but are you sure you don’t want to be a little more adventurous?”
“What are erggs?” Emmie interrupted.
“Eggs,” Zepp answered. “They come from birds’ bottoms.”
Emmie and Kaal glanced at each other in shock.
“How utterly revolting,” Emmie whispered, managing to sound as sick as John felt. “You Earthlings don’t eat them, do you?”
“Yes,” said John firmly. “We do. I’ll have an omelet, please, Zepp.”
“If you’re sure. I could put some eyeballs on the side if you like.”
A few moments later, compartments opened in the smooth surface of the table. Dishes containing the food rose from beneath.
John inspected his plate to make sure that no eyeballs had been hidden beneath his omelet, then hunched over and kept his own eyes on his breakfast.
Even so, he couldn’t help catching a glimpse of large sundae glasses piled high with eyeballs and drenched in blood-red sauce. Making noises of hungry delight, Kaal and Emmie dug into their food.
Silently, John thanked his stars that they were both too busy eating to notice where he was looking. Listening to the wet, slightly crunchy, slurping noises from across the table, he soon began to wish he could stuff his fingers in his ears.
“What’s wrong with John?” asked Gobi-san-Art, who was sitting with Lishtig at the next table. “Why’s he sitting like that?”
“You okay, John?” Kaal’s voice sounded as if he was speaking with his mouth full.
Shielding his eyes from the view with one hand, John lifted his head. “Fine,” he said. “Slight headache. Must be the stress of the examination this morning.”
“Try a Zabda eyeball,” said Emmie, holding one under his nose on the end of a prong.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” John choked, waving it away quickly. “I’m full.”
“Anyway,” Gobi-san-Art cut in, his gravelly voice unmistakable. “What do you want to see first on Archivus Major? I’m hoping it’s the Grand Diamond of Iona. Apparently, it’s as big as a K’laar Whale, glitters like a Dazzle Star, and is carved with pipes that make music when there’s a breeze.”
“Boring,” interrupted Lishtig. “If we get the chance, I’m going straight to the Hall of Games. They have a full-scale Darl Labyrinth complete with deathtraps. I bet the Omega-bots won’t let us play, though,” he finished, sounding disappointed. “What about you, Riley?”
“After the last field trip, I just want to keep out of trouble,” replied John, staring at a few inches of tabletop. “Nice, safe, boring exhibits suit me fine. No volcanoes.”
Kaal chuckled. “I can’t wait to get to the Star Dragon,” he said. “Emmie, you have to get a 4-D photo of me standing next to it. My dad is going to be so jealous.”
“I want to go straight to the Goran-Subo battleground,” said Emmie firmly.
“No way. There’s tons of way more interesting things to see. Mmmm, these eyeballs are really good.”
Stomach churning, John heard a squelch as the Derrilian popped another into his mouth.
“Are you sure you’re all right, John?” asked Kaal. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“It’s nothing,” John croaked. “I’m all right, honestly.”
A chime sounded.
“Would students going to Archivus Major please make their way to exit port alpha immediately,” announced Zepp’s voice. “We will be launching in thirty minutes.”
Never before had John been so grateful to leave a restaurant. Making a mental note never to let his friends take him out to eat again, he jumped to his feet. “We’d better go,” he said. “No time to waste.”
“I haven’t finished my eyeballs,” said Kaal. “Maybe I could wrap them in a napkin for later . . . John, hey, John. Wait for us!”