Starbounders (2 page)

As Zachary tightened his grip, the sphere split apart. A metal band extended out from the ball and snapped around his wrist like a handcuff. The metal continued to stretch across Zachary's skin, enveloping everything from the tips of his fingers all the way to his forearm. He could feel the gelatinous substance inside rippling around his wrist and hand. For a moment he imagined that it was his grandfather gripping his arm.

“How exactly does a warp glove work?” he asked.

“I don't pretend to understand the science of it, but basically it rips holes in the fabric of space itself,” his dad said, taking a seat on the bench. “It's as if the universe we know is a bedsheet with wrinkles and folds. And instead of following along the surface of the sheet from one end to the other, it's like taking a shortcut through the folds.”

Zachary continued to gaze at his right forearm, encased in the green-and-silver metallic glove. The slick exterior of the strange glove made it look stiff, but in fact it was just the opposite. He had full movement of his wrist and all of his fingers. There were pea-sized holes on each fingertip, and when he peered inside one he could see stars whirling and galaxies forming. It was almost as if the tiny hole was a window into the cosmos.

Zachary lifted his arm into the air and moved it about, up and down, left to right. He couldn't believe how flexible the glove was.

“Careful where you point that thing,” Zachary's mom said. “You don't want to accidentally cause a black hole and swallow up everything within thirty miles.”

“To take it off, just twist the sensor to the right,” his dad said.

Zachary found the small silver button near his wrist and deactivated the glove. Before putting it back in the box, he held the orb in his hand and was struck by how heavy it was. He wasn't sure if the weight was from the metal itself or from the expectations that came with it.

About an hour later the car rolled over a small bridge and passed a sign that read
PINE LAKE ACADEMY
. Through the woods, Zachary spotted a shimmering lake and ivy-covered brick dormitories. His mom drove past the quad, where some students were in the middle of a Frisbee game and others were reading beneath shady trees.

“This is Indigo 8?” Zachary said.

“No, this is just the cover,” his mom replied as a girl dressed in a uniform crossed the road directly in front of their car.

“Mom, look out!” Zachary cried.

But his mom didn't stop. She didn't even slow down. Instead, she smashed right through the girl.

Zachary did a one-eighty and looked out the back window to see the girl continue on her way.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Those aren't real students,” his mom said. “They're called doppelforms. Holographic simulations of kids.”

“Over a thousand laser projectors have been carefully placed around Pine Lake, mounted in trees and on rooftops,” Zachary's dad explained. “They're able to holographically display students all over the campus. Employing an algorithm based on each individual's body mass index, bone density, and unique brain composition, Indigo 8's mainframe calculates how the doppelforms will interact within randomly generated lifelike scenarios.”

“So what you're saying is that it's a real-life
Sims
,” Zachary said. “You guys never told me about a cover.”

“There's a lot we haven't told you,” Zachary's dad said.

His mom drove past the science buildings, past the athletic field, and deeper into the woods, until the road came to a dead end at a mountain wall. She rolled down her window, and a trio of what looked like dragonflies buzzed inside the car. As one flew close to his face, Zachary could see that it was a robot, with thin thermoplastic wings, microscopic circuits running down its back, and a syringe-like tail. It landed on Zachary's neck, and he could feel a sharp metal needle graze against his skin, searching until it found a vein. Then there was a quick jab as the needle pierced his flesh. He was about to smack the dragonfly with his hand when it took to the air, its slender tail now filled with drops of his blood. Having taken samples from Zachary, his mom, and his dad, the three dragonfly inspectors flew back out the window, and a tunnel through the mountain wall was revealed. Zachary's mom began to drive once more. A short distance later, the car emerged from the tunnel into a crater-shaped valley.

Ahead, Zachary could make out a lake and trees, but instead of brick buildings there were honeycomb-shaped structures lining the water. Their sides were covered in reflective solar paneling that glinted in the sun.

Farther away was a four-story tower that was narrow at the bottom but got wider as it rose up into the sky. Its top level rotated slowly. Standing majestically above it all was a clear cube. Cupping his hands into a telescope, Zachary peered inside. Staircases and ladders were leading up, down, and across in a way that started making him dizzy.

This was the real Indigo 8.

On their way to the bottom of the valley, they passed a football-field-sized archery range. Aerial targets were being launched into the sky, and Starbounders-in-training were shooting at them with bows loaded with what looked like beams of light.

“Look,” Zachary's dad said excitedly. “The old starchery range. I was a pretty good shot in my day.”

Zachary was still trying to take it all in, when his mom reached the parking lot. Across the pavement was a low, wide building with a reflecting pool out front. At the pool's center was a fountain in the shape of a figure eight spouting liquid metal that looked like silver—or mercury from an antique thermometer. Two empty buses were already parked in the lot, and resident advisors stood with tablets directing the new trainees to their sleeping quarters.

Now that it was time for Zachary to join them, his feet felt heavy.

His dad walked around to the trunk and pulled out Zachary's duffel bag, while his mom rummaged through her purse and looked under the passenger seat.

Zachary glanced up at the clear cube structure he had spotted during their descent into the valley. Now he could clearly see kids floating inside, as if gravity had no effect on them. Some were gliding headfirst down from the top to the bottom; others were somersaulting diagonally upward. Two teenagers were sparring on an upside-down staircase with flexible combat sticks. Others were playing some sort of midair game of handball on the ladders, slapping a green, spongy sphere off the ceiling at blur-inducing speeds.

Zachary's dad set the bag down with a thump.

“Toothpaste,” Zachary's mom said, bursting out of the car. “I forgot to pack it.”

“That's why they have vending machines,” his dad said, placing a gentle hand on his mom's shoulder. “Why don't we let Zachary take it from here?”

“We'll help him get settled,” his mom said. “I can put the sheets on his sleeping pod.”

“He's a Night, sweetheart. He'll manage.”

Zachary's mom nodded.

Zachary reached down for his bag, but it wasn't there. He turned to see that it was already being lifted by the mechanical tendrils of something that looked like a hovering jellyfish. Depositing the bag into its transparent belly, the automated porter zipped off down the hill.

“Did that robot just steal my duffel bag?”

Zachary's dad let out a laugh. But his mom had a serious expression on her face. She walked over and gave Zachary a hug.

“Just promise me you'll be safe.”

“I promise,” Zachary said, feeling his mom gripping him tighter than usual before she finally let go and stepped back. As she did, a female resident advisor in a tank top approached Zachary with tablet in hand.

“First year here?” she asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Zachary replied, looking at the galaxy of stars tattooed on her arm.

The resident advisor smiled. “Just step on the pathway, and Cerebella will guide you to your SQ.”

Now Zachary noticed the black glass sidewalks that stretched out from the parking lot and wound their way all through the campus, snaking around the well-manicured lawns.

Zachary turned back to his mom and dad. He had so much to say, but what he settled on was, “Oh, I almost forgot. Make sure Danielle stays out of my room.”

And with that, Zachary walked up to one of the pathways, its slick surface resembling the touch screen of a smartphone. He paused. Though he would only be taking one small step forward, he knew it would be the start of his own daring voyage into the unknown.

“W
elcome, Zachary Night,” a pleasant female voice said as his foot hit the surface. “Let me guide you to your sleeping quarters.”

A neon-green line appeared on the pathway, stretching all the way toward one of the honeycomb structures at the far west end of the hill. Following the green line, Zachary set off on the cross-campus trek. He looked out at the nearby lake and watched as several small boats with oversized translucent sails zipped across it even though there wasn't the slightest bit of wind to propel them.

Zachary was still trying to figure out how the boats were moving—could it have been the sunlight?—when he spotted a four-legged, two-armed creature moving toward him on the pathway from the other direction. It stood over six feet tall and was wearing a white rubber suit that clung to its leathery tan skin. Definitely not human, it had a face that looked like an anteater's. Two glass canisters filled with orange vapor were strapped to its neck, with clear tubes extended out from them and looping into the corners of the alien's mouth like bent straws. With each breath, it sucked in orange smoke from the canisters and let it out through the tubes.

“Good afternoon, young Starbounder. I am Instructor Yiddagog.” The creature's voice entered Zachary's brain as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud. But they hadn't been. Zachary was tongue-tied. He'd never seen a living alien before, let alone one that could send messages directly into his mind. “It's customary to respond to a greeting. Even if that greeting is delivered telepathically.”

“H-Hello,” Zachary said, stuttering out the two syllables.

“Hello, indeed,” the alien said (or thought?). It continued on, its clawed toes pulling it forward and wisps of orange smoke trailing behind. The vapors got up Zachary's nose and acted like pepper. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there sneezing before the pleasant female voice from the black sidewalk called out to him.

“Please resume normal foot speed. The Lightwing Boys' SQ is just fifty-two yards away. Your presence is required there.”

Close up, the honeycomb buildings were almost blinding to look at, with the sun reflecting off every angle of their mirrored exteriors. Zachary didn't stop until the pathway led him right up to the six-sided door of his sleeping quarters. He reached out to knock, but before his knuckles made contact, it opened automatically. Zachary passed through. His hairs began to stand on end as though he'd rubbed his socks on the carpet in his living room and then touched a metal door handle. An electric field? What for? Zachary wondered.

Inside, the sleeping quarters looked like the interior of a spaceship—at least the ones Zachary had seen in video games and movies—with silver trim and gray padded floors and ceilings. The beds—pods shaped like eggshells halved lengthwise—were built into the walls and stacked three high. Most of them were already taken, with sheets and pillows thrown on messily. More than a dozen boys Zachary's age were unpacking their duffels and trunks, removing socks, tees, and an assortment of unusual outerverse devices, from strange-looking tweezers with balls on the ends instead of points to pitch-black life jackets with small booster rockets strapped around the torso.

A red-haired boy with a sunburn was starting to put on one of the vests and must have accidentally activated it. He got pulled off his feet as the vest launched from his fingers and zipped across the room. The flying jacket bounced off a sleeping pod and crashed into a lanky kid's trunk, sending his belongings spilling out.

“Watch it, Chuck,” the boy said. “There's a reason you're not supposed to wear those inside.”

“My bad,” Chuck said, his face getting even redder.

Another Lightwing boy standing nearby removed what appeared to be a retainer from his mouth, only it was embedded with sparkling diodes.

“Hey, Apollo, hear anything interesting?” one of his bunkmates called from across the SQ.

Hear?
thought Zachary.

“All six hundred bands are covering the Clipsian attack on the Tranquil Galaxies,” Apollo said. “I'd like to see those charcs take on the IPDL instead of starbombing unarmed planets.”

“We don't use that kind of language around here,” a voice bellowed from behind.

Apollo scoffed and continued unpacking.

The voice belonged to an Asian man, who looked to be in his midtwenties. He wore a T-shirt with an infinity logo on it.