Robot Warriors (3 page)

“I’ve done OK up to now, I guess,” John said carefully, not wanting to hurt Lorem’s feelings. “But this contest’s really tough. I’ve never done anything like it before.”

“I understand. I’m sorry, John Riley. The challenges we set are meant to encourage the students, not humiliate them. If this school is asking too much of you, then we should perhaps think of other options.”

“You think I should go back to Earth?” John said miserably.

“That is up to you,” Lorem said gently. “I just want you to know that you
can.
Nobody would think any less of you if you did, I assure you.”

John thought of Mordant Talliver sneering in triumph. But then, if he were back on Earth, he’d never have to see the half-Gargon bully again. So what would it matter?

“Think about it,” Lorem said.

Suddenly he was a twinkling ball of light again. The ball wafted up through the TravelTube ceiling, leaving John alone with his thoughts. Lorem’s out-of-the-blue suggestion had surprised and confused him. Was leaving Hyperspace High really the best thing to do?

The door to John’s dorm room hummed open. He threw himself into a chair, which immediately billowed up to receive him.

“Hi there!” rang the disembodied voice of the ship’s computer system, which first John − and now the rest of the students − had taken to calling Zepp.

“Hi,” said John bleakly.

“I think I detect negative brainwaves. Is my favourite Earthling out of sorts today?”

“Hrmph,” John replied. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and sank his head onto them.

“OK,” the computer said, sounding serious now. “You aren’t acting like your usual self. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

John raised his head and let out a long, slow sigh. “I’m stuffed!” he said, feeling helpless.

“Packed with sage and onion and served as part of a Christmas meal?” said Zepp in horror.

“No! Stuffed as in finished, defeated, game over! I can’t come up with an idea for a robot, let alone build one. And now Lorem thinks I should go home to Earth. He thinks he was wrong to keep me on Hyperspace High. He doesn’t think I’m up to it.”

Zepp made an electronic whistling noise. “I can understand why you’re upset. That must be hard for you.”

“Thanks,” said John.

“Though you shouldn’t be too tough on yourself,” Zepp said, instantly perking up again. “You’ve not even been here for a full term! Thirty-three days and four hours, to be precise. Most of the other students have made many, many robots before.”

“I suppose,” John said, still feeling unsure.

“But, listen. It’s actually not that difficult to design a robot, not with the software I’ve got installed. You don’t have to worry about all the fiddly electronic details. That’s for advanced classes; it’s a long way off yet. All you have to do is make a sketch or two using your desk-com and programme your demands for the robot’s capabilities into the computer. By choosing various options and picking your materials, it’ll do the rest!”

“But don’t we have to
build
the robots?”

“You have to assemble them. The computer makes the different parts out of the stuff that you find. You just provide the materials and the design, and put the pieces together.”

It’s like putting together a model kit
, John thought. He felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

The thought of assembling models reminded John of his bedroom back on Earth. He suddenly missed his parents. Maybe it was a good time to give them a call.

“Zepp, could you check to see if my mum’s online?”

“Yes, she is!” Zepp almost trilled. “Right now she’s looking at a discussion thread on MumsNet about someone called George Clooney, who apparently suffers from critical overheating. How fascinating! Do many humans become ‘super hot’?”

“Just make the call, please,” John said. He hastily bundled up all the Holo-comics, Derrilian snack boxes, and vid crystals that lay around the room. He couldn’t risk giving his mum the slightest clue that he wasn’t safely tucked away at boarding school in Derbyshire.

It wasn’t long before his mother’s surprised, delighted face appeared on the wall screen.

“John! How lovely to hear from you, darling! How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” John said and immediately felt a thousand times better. “Still finding my feet, you know. But it’s fun. I miss you and Dad, though.”

“We miss you too, dear!” She sighed and glanced around the room. “Your dad’s at work, of course. He won’t be back till six at the earliest. But I’m sure he’d send his love if he were here.”

John frowned. “Are you all right, Mum?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, John. It’s just... with you off at boarding school and your dad at work all day, I’m rattling around this big old empty house all on my own. It does get lonely, I have to admit. So I’ve been thinking about adding a new member to the family.”

John’s eyes widened. He was an only child and thought his parents were happy with it that way.

“A dog!” she said, apparently laughing at his expression. “You remember Mrs Weirzbowski from up the road? She works for a dog-rescue charity now, and she says there’s this one little Jack Russell who’d be perfect for our house. Your dad says he’d rather have one of those Weimaraners, goes on about how noble they look, but I couldn’t cope with something that big. I’d live in fear of it knocking my china hedgehogs off the shelf... So, what do you think?”

“Mum, that would be
brilliant
!” John said. He’d always wanted a dog.

“And you wouldn’t mind a Jack Russell? I always thought you’d want something huge and hairy, like your father.”

“Seriously, Mum, a Jack Russell would rock. I can’t wait to meet it.”

John thought that it was a shame he’d have to wait until the end of term to meet the dog. But then, as he said goodbye to his mum, an idea came to him. An
awesome
idea.

The more he thought about it, the more awesome it was. And best of all, nobody else on Hyperspace High could have thought of it. John allowed himself a little smile of relief. Perhaps he wasn’t a lost cause after all.

Back in the technology lab, John got down to work. With only half a day left, he was working frantically, with hardly a pause for breath.

The design steadily took shape on his desk-com. Once he’d explained to the computer what a “dog” was and grabbed some images of Jack Russells from Earth’s internet for reference, the rest had been easy, just like Zepp had predicted.

The computer-generated mock-up of his robot dog barked and wagged its tail. It had a visor instead of eyes and its body was covered in metal plates, but it was still just a dog at this stage. John thought it looked pretty cool.

“You need some special features,” John said to it. “Computer, can you give him a homing system? I want him to find his way back whenever he’s called.”

“Confirmed,” the computer said. The robotic dog’s ears vanished, and long antennae appeared in their place. At the same time, the computer image showed a black cylinder inside his stomach.

“Wicked. I want him to fly, too. Add a rocket booster.”

A rocket pipe appeared, sticking out of the dog’s bottom.

“Not there! OK – better make it two rocket boosters, one on each side of his body.”

The computer changed the design, and the new design was a huge improvement. Now he needed weapons – and what better weapon for a dog than razor-sharp teeth?

“Computer, replace his teeth with metal ones. As sharp as you can make them. I want teeth that can rip through armour plating!”

With a popping sound like popcorn, the teeth appeared one by one. Suddenly, the robot dog looked fearsome, but still somehow cute. John grinned. This was starting to be fun. He quickly hit the
Save
button, thinking of how much work he’d put in already, in such a short span of time.

“Still not finished?” a voice interrupted. “Why are you losers even bothering?” It was the voice of Mordant Talliver. “I’d give up now if I were you. You haven’t got a hope.”

John glanced up, annoyed, but Mordant wasn’t talking to him – or rather, not
only
to him. Rather, he was sauntering down between the desks, with G-Vez hovering over one shoulder and a freshly built cone-shaped robot about half his height following behind. It emitted a low, sinister hum.

Around him, students continued to work on their robots. No one looked Mordant in the eye.

Trust Mordant Talliver to turn a fun contest into a game of I’m-better-than-you
, John thought ruefully. Not so long ago, Mordant had nearly got into major trouble by running away during a school trip, until it was revealed he’d been brainwashed by a sinister alien warlord. John got the distinct impression that Mordant had been humiliated by the brainwashing incident and was determined to boost his reputation by winning the contest.

“Of course master finished first,” G-Vez crooned. “Master is by far the most talented student in the whole class.”

“Check out my robot,” Mordant said. “This is IFI.”

“Looks
iffy
to me all right,” John muttered. He wished Ms Skrinel would finish whatever she was dealing with in the Junkyard and come and supervise like she was supposed to. Mordant’s antics often ended in trouble – usually with John as the target.

“I bet you’re wondering what it stands for!” Mordant went on.

“Not particularly,” Emmie said, without looking up.

Mordant scowled at her. “It means Invincible for Infinity!” He pressed a control, and a set of spindly arms in a ring extended from halfway up the robot. “Eight arms, each one with a needler pistol! Hoverpad to move about on! And don’t even think about trying to attack it. Know why?”

Nobody seemed to want to know why.

Mordant angrily grabbed G-Vez out of the air, making him bleep with surprise. He threw the tiny Serve-U-Droid hard at IFI.

G-Vez rebounded off an invisible force field and whizzed off towards the ceiling. He righted himself and came flying back, a little wobbly, towards his master. “Most inventive, sir!” he babbled. “A force shield defence. IFI will be unstoppable!”

We’ll see about that
, John thought. “Computer, make the tail into a blade,” he said quietly. “I want it to hit hard when other robots least expect it!”

The computer obeyed. The dog’s little tail was replaced with a flexible jointed blade like a sword made of segments. According to the data on the screen, it could slice through reinforced plasteel.

“Wowsers,” John whispered.

“What’s that supposed to be?” said a nasty voice. Mordant had quietly slithered up behind him.

“Nothing you’d ever have heard of,” John said, without turning around.

Mordant leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Let’s get one thing straight between us. I am going to win this competition, or there’s going to be trouble.”

“Whatever,” John said with a shrug, but his stomach was turning cartwheels. When Mordant Talliver made a threat like that, you could be sure he meant it. He had a knack for getting other people into trouble just so he could watch them flounder. And even when Mordant broke school rules himself, he always managed to wriggle out of the punishment.

To John’s relief, suddenly Master Tronic came clanking over towards them. Mordant retreated with a final warning hiss.

“How are we getting on, Mr Riley?”

“Much better now, thanks.”

Master Tronic scanned the desk-com with glimmering eye-lasers and nodded in approval. “Your design’s coming along well, I see. But you still need to choose your materials.”

“I haven’t had time yet!” John protested, his anxiety slipping back. “I’ve never done this before, I—”

Master Tronic held up a robotic hand. “Steady now! Many of your classmates have never built a robot before, either, as first-year students. That’s why I’m here – to help. Can I recommend beronzium for the teeth?”

John blinked. “Beronzi-what?”

“It’s a metal used in heavy-duty cutting equipment. There’s an old battle droid in the Junkyard with a beronzium claw. You can recycle that if you like.”

“Brilliant!” John said, taking notes.

“And for the homing device, perhaps you could reuse the navigation system core from one of our old deep-space probes...”

By the time Master Tronic had finished, John had made a lengthy shopping list of materials. He felt inspired − and a million times more confident than before. He was more certain than ever that he could do this project. But there were only four hours left on the clock! He’d just have to hope that it was long enough to turn his design into a fully assembled robot.

At least the design was complete... except for one thing. John tapped the blank section labelled PROJECT NAME, and entered the words SUPER-ROVER.

Now for the materials
, John thought. He headed over to the Junkyard, taking a deep breath as he looked over the huge stacks and shelves full of electronic components and weird-looking bits of technology from all different planets.

Fortunately, Master Tronic had told him which bins and drawers to look in, and it wasn’t too long before he was guiding a hover-trolley laden with junk towards his desk.

“Hi, John!” Emmie called as she came his way. “Check these out!”

Something was moving beside her, a hovering object like a disc with a flat underside and two stubby vertical tail fins. It blended in with the desks and the floor, as if it were made of translucent glass.

Also next to Emmie was a figure in a bubble-like helmet, its head uncannily like a dolphin’s. She was a P’Sidion, John remembered – one of the first aliens he’d met. Her robot was hovering in the air beside her, a single long tentacle of steel with tiny sharp teeth and a crackling blue tip to its tail.

John whistled. “Nice robots!”

“This is Cammy,” Emmie explained. “Cammy, visible mode!”

The hovering disc’s skin changed to a dull silver, and now John could see it clearly. “Camouflage, huh?” he said, impressed. “Wait a minute. Cammy looks kind of like a miniature Flitter X5000...”

“I thought it might be lucky,’ Emmie said, laughing. “And check out Dol’s robot!”

“This is Electric E!” Dol said proudly. The hovering eel-like robot buzzed and clicked threateningly. “Don’t worry. He’s very well trained.”

“Glad to hear it,” John said, steering well clear of the sparking tail. “Look, I’d love to chat, but...”

“Of course, you still have to finish your robot!” Emmie shooed him off towards his desk. “Go on, then! We’ll catch you later!”

John sat down at his work station and rubbed his hands together. Finally, it was time to build his—

He stared. The desk-com’s screen was completely blank.

Frantically, John typed “Super-Rover” into the keyboard. The desk-com replied with a tiny, blinking message that read PROJECT NOT FOUND.

Cold horror crept over him. He punched the RELOAD PROJECT icon, but the computer just flashed up a single message:

PROJECT DELETED.