“I can’t believe that stupid machine wants us to give up our whole lunch hour for detention,” John grumbled. “I was looking forward to lunch!”
“We were only seven minutes late!” Emmie agreed. Sighing, she added, “But you can’t reason with the Examiners, and you can’t argue — they don’t want to know!”
John and Emmie reached the entrance to the Center. “Come on,” John urged. “Kaal’s bound to have saved us a place.. . .”
John’s voice died away as the doors opened into the Center.
For the students, the Center was the beating heart of Hyperspace High, a place of shops and cafés where they could go to relax, gossip, or just hang out together. It was like the school’s own private shopping mall, light-years ahead of what any Earth school could offer. It was beautiful, too, with a sparkling lake in the middle surrounded by deep-green trees. Around the sides of the massive space were many levels of balconies, which housed a great variety of restaurants.
But today, the Center looked completely different. All the windows, which usually gave a view of starry space, were now flat black. Even the huge dome above the Center was like a black mirror.
John stood dumbfounded, trying to take it all in. It was the Center, but it had been transformed almost beyond recognition. The balconies around the sides had somehow extended, joining up with one another to form viewing galleries like those in a sports arena, and the tables where the students usually ate had disappeared.
Where is Kaal? John thought.
He could see students chatting excitedly between themselves, lounging on bloated, rubbery black cushions that looked like beanbags. These MorphSeats engulfed the students like a strange jelly, adjusting to support all the different alien body types.
But there was no sign of John’s big Derrilian friend. Trying to find him among all the students would be like looking for a red dwarf in the Milky Way.
It was proving hard to see anything at all in this auditorium. It was all so black — the windows, the cushions, the balconies. The only bright spot in the whole auditorium was where the central lake used to be. It was now a dazzling white stage the size of a football field, made from some sort of translucent material and lit from within. It was throbbing, a band of light sweeping from one end to the other and then back again. Two Examiners stood by the stage, as if they were guarding something invisible, or that hadn’t yet appeared.
John snapped back to reality, as Emmie was tugging on his arm. “They haven’t started yet! Quick, let’s sit down before the Examiners give us any more trouble!”
Together, they worked their way along an elongated balcony, squeezing past students sprawled on their cushions, trying to find empty seats. John felt like someone turning up late to the movie theater.
Eventually, they found two empty seats on the very far right of the arena, tucked away near an emergency exit. At the exact moment John sank into his seat, Lorem, the headmaster, shimmered into being on the stage. Lorem looked remarkably like an old human being, with a bald head and wrinkle-lined face, and he sometimes reminded John of a monk. But his strange purple eyes were anything but human, and when you saw him turn into a ball of energy, the resemblance vanished completely. The headmaster also had the very nonhuman talent of being able to see into the future.
Right now, he was a truly striking sight. Lorem always had a faint glow around him, but in the midst of all this blackness and lit from beneath by the stage, he flared with light like an angelic being.
Lorem raised his hands, and the chatter among the students fell silent, as suddenly as if someone had turned down the volume.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said, and his voice seemed to carry around the whole room, though John couldn’t see a microphone anywhere. “I’d like to say a few words about the Space Spectacular,” the headmaster went on. “I’m sure you’re all looking forward to it as much as I am.”
Lorem put his hands behind his back and strolled to the edge of the stage. “So, what is the Space Spectacular? It is a show — the greatest show in the galaxy, I like to believe. Every year, we open the school to our students’ families and invite them to watch as the students demonstrate their skills. I want you to understand that this will not just be a handpicked few. Every single student in the school will have an opportunity to shine.”
Once again, John felt excluded. His family wouldn’t be here, not this year, nor any other. But he still wanted to shine, just like everyone else.
“We demand a lot from our students, and the visiting families always have very high expectations for the show. I don’t intend to disappoint any of them.”
Lorem paused and looked out over the silent, awed students with his sparkling eyes. “I will announce which teams you have all been assigned to in a moment. First, it is my duty to issue a warning. Although this is a time of high spirits, which I hope you will all enjoy, school rules are still in full effect.”
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t really want to hear any more talk about rules right now, especially not from the headmaster.
But Lorem’s voice was very grave. “For those who do not comply, there will be punishment. Any student who accrues two or more detentions will not be allowed to participate in the Space Spectacular.”
Another pause, as those words sank in. I’ve already got one detention, John thought glumly.
“And now for the teams!” Lorem announced brightly, quickly banishing John’s dark mood. “Some roles will be big, some small, but all are equally important. Please sit quite still and do not leave your seats. You will soon understand why.”
From high above, a rainbow of light beams suddenly flashed out over the arena. Each one bathed a different student in colored light — red, yellow, purple, green, blue, pink, and blinding white. Delighted gasps rang out.
“The color of your light indicates your team, as you will no doubt have guessed,” said Lorem, sounding amused. “Let me explain what each color means.”
John was sitting in a shaft of golden-yellow light. Just like everyone else, he’d been chosen for something, as he knew he would be, but somehow he still felt more excited than he’d expected.
John tried to see who else was on his team. However, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t make out any other students under a yellow beam. There were just too many colors shining down, like a forest of tinted lasers.
“I guess we’re not on the same team, John,” Emmie said from her neighboring seat. John looked over and saw that she was sitting in the glare of a blue light.
“I guess not,” he said, feeling a little disappointed. He hoped he’d know at least one person on his team. Maybe he’d be with Kaal.
“Huh. I wonder what I’ll be doing,” said Emmie. But she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Those in blue,” Lorem announced next, “will be the Zero-G Acrobatics team.”
“Wooo! Best. Spectacular. Ever!” Emmie cheered.
John and Emmie traded a high five, as they’d been doing since John taught his friends the Earth custom. The excitement in the auditorium was so intense now that Lorem had to call for silence before he could read out the remainder of the teams.
Those bathed in purple were the Star Dance team, and try as he might, John couldn’t find Kaal to see if he was on that team, either. He crossed his fingers, hoping as hard as he could that they’d end up on the same team.
Green was Plasma Sculpting, white was Traditional Music (John wondered which planet’s traditions Lorem could possibly mean), pink was Alien Life Form Training, and red was Live Holo-Theater, which Emmie explained; it sounded like theater on Earth, only with holographic scenery, special effects, and costumes projected over the actors.
“Last but not least,” Lorem said, “those in yellow will be the Galactic Battle team. For safety reasons, this is the smallest team of all and will be demonstrating a variety of energy weapons.”
There was a chorus of oohs and aahs. John could hardly keep himself from jumping up and yelling with delight. Energy weapons — how unbelievably cool was that?
“Congrats!” Emmie whispered, nudging him and grinning.
“Thanks! I wish you could be on my team — I really do!”
“Ah, it’s cool,” Emmie said, smiling. “To be honest, I’m not much of a weapons fan anyway, you know?”
“I wish you all a very successful practice period,” Lorem said. “Next time we meet together in this auditorium, many of your families will be here. They will be expecting you to give your very best performance. Let’s give them a show to remember!”
With that, he transformed into a tiny ball of sparkling light, sped over the students’ heads toward the exit, and vanished up the corridor. John knew that was the headmaster’s preferred method for moving quickly about the ship, fluttering overhead like ghost-lights.
“ALL STUDENTS ARE NOW DISMISSED,” intoned the Examiners as one. “LUNCH HOUR WILL NOW COMMENCE.”
“No lunch hour for us,” John grumbled. “Come on, Emmie. We’ve got a detention to get to.”
“Yeah,” said Emmie, winking. “Thanks to you, Earth boy.”
But as Emmie tried to make her way back from the balcony to the main corridor, the black-haired form of Mordant Talliver moved in front of her, blocking her path. Above his shoulder, like an annoying second robotic head, hovered the silvery sphere of G-Vez, Mordant’s Serve-U Droid.
Mordant was wearing a big, smug smile on his face, and his two black rubbery tentacles were crossed over his chest.
John braced himself for trouble. The half-Gargon boy was the closest thing Hyperspace High had to a class bully, and he was no friend of John’s — nor Emmie’s. It didn’t help that he was top of just about every class right now, and he looked down on John as a primitive life form from a hopeless, backward planet. In Mordant’s eyes, John was little better than a caveman — not that Mordant really saw any of the other students as his equal, either.
“Hello, Mordant,” Emmie said reluctantly. “Can I get past, please?”
“Oh, sure!” Mordant said, smiling even more broadly. He reminded John of the sort of deep-sea fish that swallows its prey in one gulp. “I just wanted to tell you how happy I am to be on your team. It’s an honor.”
Emmie looked perplexed. “Um . . . uh . . . thanks?”
“Seriously, I can’t wait to get started,” Mordant said. “You’re the best zero-G gymnast I’ve ever known. And you know I don’t like to boast, but I’m pretty good myself. Our team is going to rock this Spectacular, just you wait.”
Emmie looked over at John with an open mouth. Her navy blue eyes were as wide and blank as the screen of a crashed ThinScreen. John felt much the same, but a deep suspicion was forming in his mind.
Mordant sighed, still not letting Emmie through. “I just wish my dad could see how cool our performance is going to be.”
“Unfortunately, master’s father is unable to attend,” G-Vez explained, unprompted. “He has important business to attend to, as the owner of the most successful intergalactic mining company in the universe. Such riches and responsibility will all be in master’s hands one day.”
“I guess I’ll just have to do my best to impress your parents instead, won’t I, Emmie?” Mordant said, smiling and patting the beautiful Sillaran on the shoulder. Then he stood aside and waved her through, smiling all the while. When they had passed him, Mordant vanished into the crowd.
Out in the hallway, John shook his head. “What on Earth just happened?”
“I have no idea,” said Emmie. “Maybe Mordant’s turning over a new leaf? I hope so. That would be really nice.”
“Maybe he is,” John said, but he was far from convinced.
He didn’t want to say it out loud and bring up unpleasant memories, but Mordant had been viciously cruel to Emmie in the past. She struggled with some of her subjects, and Mordant just loved to tease her about it.
If he was being nice to her face now, John thought, it could only mean one thing: Mordant Talliver had something troublesome planned. Emmie obviously wanted to believe he’d changed, but she could be too nice for her own good. John thought maybe he should warn her of his suspicions.
“Emmie, I don’t really think—”
“John, look!”
Emmie was pointing at an Examiner gliding toward them from the other end of the hall.
“Come on, we need to go to detention! Quickly!”
John hurried after Emmie, hoping the Examiner hadn’t seen them dawdling.
“If we’re late for our lunchtime detention, that’ll mean even more punishment!” Emmie whispered. “They’ll give us another detention, most likely. And two detentions —”
“— means no Space Spectacular for either of us,” John finished.