The Sky Drifter (2 page)

“Shut up, Pi!” Despite turning away from me suddenly to scold him, I knew her multi-colored cheeks had turned a bright shade of red.

They went on ahead. I briefly looked up at the clear blue sky above. What I was actually looking at was the ship’s dome. They changed every morning and then again at night when the blue faded away to expose the kaleidoscopic vastness of space through which we sailed.

The academy was the
Sky Drifter
, an enormous white space cruiser aboard which we lived our lives as it wandered through galaxies in search of knowledge, stopping every once in a while when it reached a planet that was part of the syllabus. When that happened, trips were organized by the various professors, whose lessons had been focused on that particular place. More dangerous planets were reserved for the older years, leaving the safer, boring ones to the first and second years. Iris, Pi, and me being the latter meant that the most exciting things we’d seen so far had been the Pupans, who were tiny, doll-like beings, whose planet resembled a patchwork quilt, and the spitting Bufos, whose spit temporarily changed your appearance into just about anything you could imagine (I was turned into a smelly sock, a cup of tea, and a hairy orange eye).

I could still hear Iris scolding Pi as I caught up with them, and we ran together toward the academy, which was in the very center of the town. Its tall, white clock tower rose high above the houses and shops, which surrounded it, and could be seen from anywhere on the expansive platform.

We entered the winding maze of streets, trying not to knock into any of the residents who ambled along, which proved an almost impossible task for Pi given his bulk, and headed to the academy.

The inhabitants of the
Sky Drifter
consisted mainly of professors, students, merchants and crew, with students residing in rooms outside the town, itself being occupied by the adults. A wide variety of species from countless different galaxies lived, studied, and worked aboard, making the
Sky Drifter
the only known place where inter-racial co-habitation existed.

We finally reached the large wrought-iron academy gates just as the clock above us began to chime, signalling the start of our classes.

Running just ahead, Iris looked back at me, and said, “If you’ve made me late, I
will
kill you, Seven!” We dashed through the main doors, and she disappeared around a corner on her way to her Space Theory class.

“I think she means it this time, dude.” Pi smirked while we continued up the stairs to the first floor where we had our first class.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said last time,” I replied
, wondering whether she really
was
serious this time.

Iris was part of a race of extremely gifted hunters, renowned for their short tempers and beauty. Aside from their bewitching eyes and lightly shimmering multi-colored skins, their light blue, wavy hair made them irresistible to most species, and therefore deadly if you happened to be their prey. At that moment, I felt right in the middle of Iris’ cross-hairs.

Nearly out of breath, I reached the first floor with Pi still halfway down the stairs. I turned the corner, relieved that I’d arrive to class just in time, when I suddenly crashed into something large, which caused me to fall hard to the floor. I raised my hand to my nose to check it for blood while looking up to see what I’d collided against. The unmistakably wide, stony frame of a Morex stood leaning on the wall in front of me. Green and brown moss covered various parts of their hard, gray bodies, and they were known more for their physical prowess than for their academic ingenuity. From the other side of the Morex came a voice I recognized all too well.

“Watch where you’re going,
Simian,
” came the snide, cold voice of One as his faceless head peered round the Morex.

Satisfied no blood gushed out of my nose, I simply replied, “Shut up,
Imago
,” so used to his sneers and insults.

He especially loved referring to me by my species, despite knowing what my name was. So I replied in kind. His was a very mysterious race whose hidden faces were always covered by smooth, plain masks that wrapped around their heads. The only clue that they even had eyes was the single spherical hole on the upper left side of their masks. I didn’t need to see his face to know he was a jerk, though.

“You never learn, do you, Simian? Don’t you know you’re supposed to respect your superiors?” he quipped, walking out from behind the Morex.

All Imago wore the same attire, which consisted of a black full-length, tight-fitting coat fastened in the middle by red buttons from the waist all the way up to the neck. Their hands were always covered by long, dark red gloves, which concealed only their thumbs and index fingers, revealing the ghostly white skin of their others. Their trousers were always tight and black and they wore thick black boots with a red buckle on the side.

“You keep telling yourself that, No Face.”

At my words, One’s Morex friend turned to look at me through his deep-set, yellow eyes, no doubt ready to throw me through a window or smash me into a wall, as he, One and the other Morex I hadn’t seen rounded up on me. Luckily, however, it was at that moment Pi appeared, huffing and wheezing behind me. That day, he wore his usual khaki shorts and flip-flops, and a three-times-too-big bright pink Hawaiian shirt with green and brown palm trees on it, which he believed made him look slimmer, but, in fact, exaggerated his already massive frame. After having watched a presentation on ancient Simian cultures, Pi had become obsessed with the “surfing lifestyle” from my planet, and often proudly wore clothing that reflected his passion.

At the sight of him, they stopped in their tracks. Despite their greater number, both Morex and One knew their combined strengths were no match for Pi’s. 

“What’s going on?” he asked casually, his patchy, dark brown-eyed gaze slowly shifting from me to them.

Moving away from me, One said, “This isn’t over, Simian. See you in second class.” He and his sizeable friends walked down the hall.

“You okay?” asked Pi as I grabbed one of his claws to stand back up.

“I’m fine. I just ran into the back of one of them.”

“Ouch.” Pi winced.

“No big deal,” I replied, dusting myself off and smiling.

“Oh, man, I think we’re officially late.” I turned to see what Pi pointed to. The hall was completely empty, which only meant one thing—class had started.

I RAN DOWN THE HALL
to the second door on the right with Pi still wheezing behind me. I stopped right in front of the smooth, white door to the classroom, paused and took a deep breath. Once I thought I’d gathered myself as much as I could, I pressed the small blue square pad to my left and the door swished from right to left in one swift motion. Feeling slightly more confident with him behind me, I stepped forward and into the classroom.

“…an intrinsic form of angular momentum carried by—” Mr Clarus turned to face us, and with his nasally voice remarked, “Good of you to join us, gentlemen. Perhaps you’d be good enough to sit so I may continue teaching, hmm?”

I liked Mr. Clarus, our Quantum Mechanics teacher. Despite his cold level-headedness, he had a good heart. Something his anatomy re-enforced since his entire body was made of a clear type of glass, exposing the shadows of his brain, its stem, his heart and the jittery electricity that coursed throughout him.

As Pi and I sat at our desks and then turned on our screens, Mr. Clarus called out, “File three hundred and eighteen, gentlemen, if you please.” He spoke with a slightly jovial voice, pushing his ever-slipping glasses back up his nose.

While I waited for the four-dimensional display above my desk to prompt me for my password, I looked around the class. The desks were three levels high and formed a semi-circle, facing the much larger display at the front inside which Mr. Clarus stood. As with most of the academy, the walls, floor and ceiling were all a shiny white with each corner molded into the next, forming a smooth cube. The windows had been dimmed so we could better see the displays around us.

Mr. Clarus continued teaching while he walked around the various formulae that surrounded him.

Pi, who sat to my left, whispered, “
Psst
, did you do the preparatory homework for today?”

Keeping one eye on the teacher, I leaned in, and replied, “No, I had Sphere practice yesterday and I forgot.”

“Misters 314 and 7,” began Mr. Clarus, facing away from us, “perhaps you would be kind enough to answer a simple question, assuming you did the required work for today’s class.”

In that moment, all eyes turned silently toward us in expectation as Pi and I froze, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

Turning finally to face us as a sea of numbers and words continued surrounding and whizzing past him, Mr. Clarus asked, “What is the operator to measure spin along an arbitrary axis direction, gentlemen?”

I felt light-headed as all the eyes I felt on me weighed heavily on my blank mind. I looked across at Pi, who, judging by the scared look in his eyes and his open mouth, hadn’t done the homework, either.

“Ooh, gentlemen,” began Mr. Clarus, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “A simpler question there couldn’t be.” He let out a theatrical sigh, and looking around at the other students and asked, “Does anyone know?” Various hands went up, and the teacher randomly picked one. “Yes, 202, if you please.”

A leafy Brattean over to the right answered, “S equals h-bar/2 ( u_x \sigma_x + u_y \sigma_y + u_z \sigma_z ).”

“Well done, 202, well done! Yes, indeed.” Turning back to us, Mr. Clarus said, “Make sure you do your homework next time, gentlemen, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” we drawled in unison, feeling deflated.

I spent the rest of the class being as quiet and invisible as I could be, in case the teacher decided to ask me another question I’d have no answer for.

After the class ended, Pi and I walked out into the bustling hallway as students of all shapes, sizes and colors hurriedly went to their lessons. Standing by the stairway, we made plans to meet in the canteen for lunch before Pi ambled down the stairs to his class and I climbed to the fifth floor where I had my Strategy class.

On the first day of academy, a series of tests were devised to sort us into different classes of specialisations like navigator, engineer, race relations, and interpreter. Strategist, however, was so specialised only very few were selected for it. There were, in fact, a total of ten students throughout the entire academy who attended Strategy class. I was one of them, and, unfortunately, so was One.

I entered the large class and saw him already standing behind his station as the teacher, Ms. Photuris, stood behind her own, watching us with her oval black eyes as we flowed in and settled. She looked as proper as always with her high-necked, long black coat with yellow trim. There was something about the yellow-green light that glowed inside her that was so calming, where everything seemed to fade away until the only thing that remained was the Strategy class to focus on.

I walked over and then stood behind my station, which was adjacent to One’s. I turned the vertical panel above it on by passing my hand just over the pad on the console in front of me and then turned to face Ms. Photuris to await her instructions. After everyone had turned their stations on, the two long antennae on her pale forehead twitched, and I suddenly heard her deep, elegant voice inside my mind.

Good morning, my children. Today, we have a new battle simulation program for you. Your opponents will be randomized. As always, speed and efficiency will earn you more points. You may turn to your screens, where the simulation will begin momentarily.

With that, I turned back and saw the display on my screen change to a three-dimensional mountainous range, the base of which was a flat, barren landscape. The display zoomed in until it hovered above a multitude of attack vessels of different shapes and sizes, facing away from it. On the far opposite side were other vessels. These also varied, but their shapes and designs were different. Both sides faced each other, ready for battle.

Tapping rapidly on her own console, Ms. Photuris announced,
You may now begin
. The program started.

My first move was to send the four heavy artillery ships from the back left and right flanks charging ahead on the far sides of the field, drawing immediate fire from my opponent’s long-range
reserves.

“
You’re mine
,” whispered One opposite me.

Focusing on the battle again, I deployed the front light-infantry ships and my reserves behind them toward my adversary, ahead of the flanking artillery ships, which had taken much damage and had stopped. This prompted them to deploy their own light-infantry toward mine.

“Got you!” scoffed One quietly almost to himself.

Just as they were set to collide, however, I retreated both infantry and reserves back toward home territory. As predicted, my opponent followed with his own infantry and reserves, hungry for victory.

As their ships drew closer, I sent my infantry ships racing ahead while my reserves split left and right, creating a “U” shape. Just as their ships were in the center of the “U,” my own turned and fired, trapping them. Their ships abandoned formation in desperation and I sent my heavy artillery, which I’d made them believe were destroyed, charging toward their own. Their mind being on the enormous damage their infantry and reserves took, my heavy artillery quickly disposed of them, and soon the battle was over.

Expertly done number 7. Full marks
, began Ms. Photuris as the glowing light inside her gradually dimmed and then stopped.
1, your efforts are as impressive as always, though your rash decisions continue to impede your progress. You shall all, as always, find the recorded files of this class on your personal academy pads. I highly suggest you take some time to study 7’s methods.