The students looked at each other in horror.
“Oh no. What’s happening now?” John said, groaning.
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,” whispered Emmie. “Something’s coming. I hear something. I think it sounds like clapping. Can you hear —”
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 were 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 that he was feeling.
Kaal shrugged. “I guess we did save them from the clutches of an evil warlord, you guys,” he said. “That’s probably worth a round of applause.”
Beneath John, Ogun shifted position. “Um . . . children,” 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?”
“No, it’s quite all right,” Aristil said. “Emmie and John: please release your prisoner immediately.”
“No,” Emmie said. “We can’t do that. 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 favorite 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, wait a second. None of it was true?” he asked.
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-foot-tall 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-screens in the cafeteria,” 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. “This was the test?”
“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.” She paused, and then went on, “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, not to anyone.”
“Wait a second. 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 burned 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,” Aristil said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s find you some clean clothes and get some food inside you.” Taking Emmie’s arm, she led her toward 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. “Um . . . uh . . .” 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.”
“Well, in that case, sure,” John said.
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 was talking with a scholar whose skin was made up of multi-colored patches, and Mordant was standing 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 cafeteria.”
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 colorless 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 gray 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.
Like, for example, his mom’s macaroni and 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 or something.”
“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, um, I’m 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, shaking his head. “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 really 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 gray 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?” Kaal whispered back.
“No, it’s just gray mush,” John said. “Looks awful.”
“Well, looks can be deceiving,” Kaal answered. He nodded toward 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 mom’s macaroni and cheese! It’s my mom’s macaroni and cheese. But how?”
Passing behind John’s chair, Socrat paused 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 at John.
“Pay no attention to Socrat,” said Aristil. “We call this dish comfort food, John,” she went on. “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, you know. Not about food.”
“Well, whatever it is, this is seriously good,” John replied, heaping his spoon with comfort food.
“So, what did you think of our test?” Socrat asked the table.
“It was 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. “Honestly, I bet I could have taken them all out on my own.”
“Thanks for leaving us some, Gobi,” said Lishtig. “Droid fighting was the best part.”
“I told you, Silva. Didn’t I tell you?” wheezed Thushlar. “I could have made better droids during my lunch break. You always make them too easy.”
Silva looked up from a conversation he was having with Raytanna. Sunlight glittered on his metal mask. “We always 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. “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 really brilliantly, too,” said Kaal. “You all completely convinced me. Totally.”
Mordant snorted in scorn. “Really?” he said. “I knew all along that the test was a set-up. I didn’t want 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.