Wormhole Pirates on Orbis (7 page)

“I was waiting for you to ask,” she said inside my head. A small silver file shined inside my mind’s eye. “Uplink this before digesting the access code. A key is no good without a lock.”

“Why didn’t they give this to me during registration?”

“Maybe it’s all part of the exam,” she said, and then she was gone. I could always tell because I felt a little empty when she ran off to some other part of the central computer. It was like sneezing. Before you sneeze, there is always a sensation that you’re about to make a big noise and spray spit all over your friend (if you’re lucky), but then you sneeze and the sensation is simply gone. Almost like it was never there. That’s the way I felt whenever Vairocina slipped out of my head.

I followed her instructions, and the screen in front of me exploded with colors, ripping me away from the connection I had made with the computer. No matter where I looked, all I could see was the screen. I looked for Theodore, but he was not there. Even the pod was gone. My senses were filled with the image on the screen. All I could do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

That’s exactly what it felt like — a free-fall ride through space. I soared over the crystal moons of Ki and Ta. I raced between the Rings of Orbis, whipping through the huge spherical structures I called home. And then I circled the mighty wormhole before launching toward an exaggerated image of the Illuminate on Orbis 3. If this was school, I thought, I was really going to enjoy myself.

The journey settled inside the Illuminate, ran up the sloped hallways, entered the sliding doors, and I ended next to myself inside the pod.

“All journeys begin from here,” an authoritative voice bellowed inside my head. “And you alone are the master of your destiny. The children of Citizens
are
the Scions. Chosen to lead this universe and spread freedom and prosperity wherever your journey takes you.”

I laughed; I think I even snorted. Who would believe this toilet water? The screen exploded with Citizens strolling through plazas, laughing with each other inside their estates, and watching over knudniks as they mined the profits from the moons. I wondered if the Keepers ever saw this propaganda.

“Now is the time to stand up and be counted. Now is the time to demonstrate your breeding and demand your place in the universe!”

I couldn’t see anyone near me, but I could certainly hear the other students. When the announcer inside my head finished the last sentence, the Citizens roared with approval. I forced myself to unlink from the computer, and the screen in front of me went white. I looked at Theodore, who sat back with his mouth slightly open, still taking it all in. I pulled myself away from the soft seat and peered over the edge of my pod. There was another pod next to mine as well as one below me and above me. Wherever I looked, there were pods attached to the gigantic convex wall, filled with students staring at the endless white screen. They each cheered frantically, but then suddenly stopped. As if on cue, they all turned and looked at me — every last one of them. I linked up and glanced at the screen to see an enormous image of myself leaning out of the pod, staring. Who was watching me? How did they know it was me? Worse, why did they care?

I unlinked again. They replaced their cheers with hissing and the sound of people thumping on their pods.

“What are you doing, JT?” Theodore said.

“Nothing. I think.”

And then I screamed. The pod had shocked me with an electric charge. “Ow!” It did it again. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Ow! Stop that,” I shouted.

“Link up again, JT,” Theodore said, and my mind reached back into the computer and took the access code once more. The shocks stopped, and the image on the screen dominated my senses again, isolating me from the rest of the world. I let out a deep breath and told myself never to do that again.

The hissing and the thumping ceased immediately, and the announcer commenced instructions for the exam. I had almost forgotten what we were here for. Almost. I wanted to do well on this exam. I wanted to prove something. I wanted to prove that knudniks weren’t second-class Citizens. I didn’t care if they thought I wasted a perfectly good home planet. I wasn’t even born there. And I didn’t care if they were disgusted that I traded my life for their charity. The charity wasn’t really that good, anyway, and it wasn’t even my choice. I simply wanted to prove that whatever they could do, I could do better.

I quickly discovered that the placement exam wasn’t going to be much help.

The scope of the exam was simply beyond my comprehension. There were more than 720,000 questions. We were not expected to answer all of them, however, and I thanked the universe for that. Instead we were supposed to browse through the categories and answer whatever questions we liked, and then the computer would give us another question based on the last one. We were told to keep doing this until we couldn’t answer the next question. From there we were simply to browse for another category and begin solving another string of problems. The pods provided an O-dat to work out our answers, and everything appeared on the giant screen in front of me. Some questions involved diagrams; others, equations; and some questions simply asked me to identify objects. I assumed everyone saw something different on the screen, but I was not about to disconnect from the computer to verify my theory.

I browsed through the numerous categories, looking for a place to start: Subdimensional Displacement and Its Effect on Trefaldoorian Biosystems.
Pass.
Economic Indicators of Intergalactic Wormhole Commerce.
Maybe next time.
Effects of Gender-Based Religion on Mythological Symbols.
Who is this test for?
I’d met many people on the Rings of Orbis, and I didn’t know anyone who could answer these questions.

I pushed through the different categories, searching for something I recognized, anything, even a word.

Central Computer.

Perfect. I had been inside it many times. Let’s see what they were offering.

Multiple choices. I liked that. Inside the central computer, information moved on beads of light. I’d seen it myself, so I selected
b.
A new question appeared on the screen.

I thought of the ones and zeros Vairocina carved into the rocks in my dreams on Orbis 1 and the door locks at Weegin’s World that I’d manipulated.
Absolutely,
I responded, and gave them examples on the next question.

I continued this way for quite some time, but I never reached many of the more exotic questions. I’m sure a lot of the Citizens could answer them, but I did answer questions about the mass generators I encountered in the city of Magna. I also punched in answers about the creatures inside the crystal-cooling tank on Orbis 2 and their biosystems. I answered many questions about the Keepers, what I knew about the War of 10,000 Rotations, and a few questions about OIO, but only a few of those. By the end of the spoke, I was regurgitating everything I could remember about what Mother had taught us concerning earthly physics, math, and biology, even though I knew whatever they learned on Orbis must be far more advanced than what I understood. When the screen went white, I plopped my head against the back of the pod.

“How many did you answer?” I asked Theodore.

“Four hundred and twenty-five,” he said. “You?”

“Maybe a little less.”

“How do you think we did?”

“Don’t,” I said, looking at him and shaking my head. “No more questions, please.”

I dragged myself to the light chute in the plaza. The exam had drained me both mentally and physically. The sun pricked at my skin as I crossed the stone circle, staring at my feet the entire time. No one spoke except Dop. I would have walked right into him if he hadn’t.

“These knudniks look tired,” he joked with his friends. I recognized two of them from the last cycle, but the other was new. Her long face darted about, and her solid black eyes made it impossible to tell where she was looking. “I guess humans don’t have what it takes to serve the Citizens of Orbis.”

His new friend smiled, stretched open her lipless mouth, and exposed more teeth than necessary for any meat-eating creature I could think of. I was too tired for this. I looked around for Charlie, but then I remembered he wasn’t coming. By now he was completely registered as a Citizen and our skins allowed us passage to and from the Illuminate. I really wanted someone else to deal with Dop and his self-important views of Citizenship.

I looked at Max for advice. She was shaking her head, not as a warning but more as a mirroring of my feelings. I simply walked around Dop.

“Do not turn your back to me, knudnik,” he growled.

“What do you want, Dop? I know you don’t like me — that’s obvious. I can’t leave here even if I wanted to. I didn’t ask to go to the Illuminate. I’m only here because the Citizens of Orbis made it possible.”

Dop looked at his friends for an answer. “The Keepers did that,” he spat.

“But the Citizens keep using us.
Stop
using knudniks,” I told him. “How about that? Do the work yourselves.” I turned my back to him once more.

Dop shifted and slid in front of me, blocking the way. I just stared at him. There was nothing more to say.

“I challenge you to
Lyld-den-oo,
” Dop declared, as if it were the only option available. The central computer did not translate the last word he said. I could tell because there was no delay through his lips. The delay often happens when the computer translates some of the aliens we meet. The sounds coming out of their mouths do not match the translation I hear in my head.

“I don’t understand,” I told him.

“I have called you out. You offend me, Softwire. You march through Orbis thinking you don’t belong here — not because we force you to work, but because you think you are better than us.”

I couldn’t disagree with this, especially when it came to Dop.

“In the Labyrinth I will show you who is superior, and you will be forced to carry yourself with the shame suitable to a knudnik.”

Challenge? Labyrinth?
What was he talking about?

“Whatever you want,” I said. “It’s your ring.”

“And I will make you act like it,” he seethed, his rotting-flower breath burning my eyes. “Next phase, after the Arbiter allows the start of the new conclave and filth like you is allowed to play, I will
break
you.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “May I go now, Mr. Citizen, sir?”

Dop stared at me, his long neck swaying back and forth. His green eyes said,
Is this knudnik mocking me? Yes, I am, you dumb alien.
But then again, I was really tired.

Dop and his friends moved aside, and we walked toward the light chutes.

When we were far enough away, Max said, “What kind of challenge is he talking about?”

“I don’t think you should do it, JT,” Theodore warned.

Even Dalton asked, “Are you scared?”

I wasn’t scared. I could handle Dop. I handled Switzer. But I knew that when I was done with him, there would be another angry Citizen eager to take his place. Pride and ignorance existed everywhere in the universe; I was certain of it.

“It’s a game,” Charlie informed us after we found him in the garden behind our home. “Lots of the kids on Orbis 3 play it. Your Illuminate has a fantastic league. They share the Labyrinth with the professional league; people from all over the ring come to play in that pro league. Citizens can even gamble on the outcome of those matches. It’s very, very competitive, but I think you would really enjoy your school league.”

“How does the game work?” I asked.

“If I remember correctly, it’s modeled after a training course used by Space Jumpers when they lived on the ring.”

“Space Jumpers?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Would you like to watch a match?”

“Right now?”

“The Labyrinth is between here and your Illuminate. Someone is always playing,” he said. “In fact, I believe they are holding trials for the new pro conclave.”

Everyone wanted to go. It was always fun to see something new on Orbis, and since most of the other kids had witnessed my confrontation with Dop, there was a lot of interest in what I would face in his challenge. We gathered quickly around the light chute and Charlie punched the code for the Labyrinth. We were in front of the stadium instantly. The Labyrinth was only a little shorter than the Illuminate and rose to a point on the left side. The gleaming structure curved behind itself, and huge O-dats loomed over the entrance. The walls of light and sound called out to each of us, selling everything from tetrascopes to trips through the wormhole.

Charlie pointed to a list of names scrolling on one of the large O-dats. “During a pro conclave,” he informed us, “the contestants play for prize money and prestige, but the school league is simply for fun. A lot of the kids play. Your Illuminate starts a new league next phase, if I’m right. Registration is free to anyone who attends the Illuminate.” Charlie put his hand on Ketheria’s shoulders. “Let me get some tickets so we can sit up high. Then we can get something to eat.”