Seventh Grade vs. the Galaxy Read online

  I don’t know what to say. I think about my dad—wherever he is now—and about what he would do. What risks he would take. And decide I should probably do the opposite.

  I shake my head. Even taking the time to think about attempting a rescue is stupid. I’m the only one with real control over this ship and I’m going to use it before we get ourselves killed.

  I spin my chair around so that I’m facing away from them, looking at the window.

  “No,” I say. “I’m sorry. We’re not going back. I’m still the only one who has full access to this ship’s systems. And I can take away your access any time I want. So we’re going to do this my way. The vote doesn’t matter.”

  They say nothing. I can feel Becka’s glare boring a hole into the back of my head and Ari’s disappointment melting a hole into the floor beneath his feet.

  “Computer, engage Protocol 061999.”

  “LIGHT SPEED ENGINE REQUIRES SEVENTEEN ADDITIONAL MINUTES TO RECHARGE.”

  “Fine.” I stand up. “Just let me know when we’re ready, okay?”

  “SURE,” it says. “BUT YOU’RE STILL A JERK.”

  “Ugh.”

  I need to get off this bridge for a while. This is the right decision. I know it is. But if I have to sit here for the next seventeen minutes I’m going to implode.

  “Keep us in orbit,” I tell Ari, standing up and heading for the door. “As soon as we’re beyond the jamming—as soon as we can use the light speed engine—we’re going home.”

  I know that he’s mad at me. I can’t blame him. But I’m hoping that he’ll still use his “Aye, aye, Captain” salute. Show me that we’ll be okay, in spite of this fight. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just looks down at his screen, powers up the regular engines, and aims us a little farther away from the giant planet behind us.

  25

  “Here, Doctor Shrew! Here boy!”

  You know how time flies when you’re having fun? Well, I don’t know anything about that. But the opposite is definitely true. When you’re really not having fun—for example, if you just possibly ruined your best friendship and almost everyone else you know is imprisoned in alien jail and YOU ARE STILL IN SCHOOL—then time does not fly. It crawls like an injured snail in a coma trying to climb up a down escalator.

  I need to make it up to Ari. Show him that I’m sorry. That I still have his back. Which is why—while I wait for the engine to recharge—I’m in the kitchen, calling his hamster’s name, holding a stalk of celery I found in the main fridge.

  The celery is a little rotten and droops in my hand like it’s as miserable as I am.

  “Here, boy!”

  Whistle, whistle, whistle.

  “Here, Doctor Shrew!”

  Whistle, whistle, whistle.

  Even though we put him back in his cage after his performance as Shrew, Prince of Darkness, he was missing again when I checked a minute ago. According to the ship’s life sign scanner, he’s somewhere in the kitchen. I open all the drawers. Inspect the fridges and the ovens. And I peek inside unsealed containers of food. But no luck. I chuck the celery against one of the walls in frustration. It’s not very dramatic. The celery stalk doesn’t shatter to pieces or even bounce off the wall—instead, it just sticks to the digital paper like a wet strand of spaghetti and slides slllloooowwwwlllllyyyyyy down to the floor.

  I start to panic. What if they’re right? What if—even in the best-case scenario—we manage to get back to Earth and still can’t help anyone?

  “Squeak!”

  My ears perk up. I spin around in place like a top, scanning the floor.

  “Squeak!”

  Like a knight in shining fur, Doctor Shrew comes scuttling toward me. I have no idea where he’s been hiding this whole time. He sprints toward the celery that’s slumped over on the floor. I don’t think he even notices when I bend down and scoop him up. He just keeps running his legs in midair like he’s on an invisible treadmill.

  “Relax, Doc. It’s me.”

  I drop a still-panicking Doctor Shrew down into his cage. He’s too crazed to notice and, with his legs still moving, he face-plants into one of the cage’s clear plastic sides. It takes him more head bumps than it should to figure out that he’s stuck.

  I click the top of the cage into place with this paper-clip-and-Velcro lid lock I made so he’ll stop escaping every five minutes. Something to show Ari that I really care, you know?

  Speaking of Ari, his voice booms from the loudspeaker: “It’s almost time. Better get up here.”

  I feel good about this. Doctor Shrew is one of Ari’s favorite things in the whole universe. Ari will be so glad to see him, so happy that I found him, so impressed by the cage’s next-gen safety features, that he’ll definitely forgive me. I leave the cafeteria with a spring in my step and follow the hallway back down toward the bridge. The doors slide open in front of me and I walk in.

  “Hey guys,” I say, trying to act like everything’s fine. “Here,” I turn to Ari, placing Doctor Shrew’s cage down next to his computer console. “I found him wandering around.”

  Ari barely reacts at all.

  “Thanks,” is all he says.

  And it stings.

  “Sure,” I respond, clearing my throat. I walk away from him and retake my chair in the middle of the bridge, trying to shake off my hurt feelings. Whatever. It’s fine. “You’re welcome.”

  I look out of the window in front of me. I wanted to try and fix things with Ari sooner rather than later. I didn’t want us to have to face whatever’s ahead while we’re in a fight. But I don’t have a choice.

  “THE LIGHT SPEED ENGINE IS NOW FULLY RECHARGED,” the ship says. “AND YOU ARE STILL A JERK.”

  “Thanks.”

  I press my hand against one of the small computer consoles on the armrest of the captain’s chair. Time to go.

  “WELCOME, JACKSONVILLE GRAHAM.”

  “Ship, set a course for Earth. As close as you can get. Engage Protocol 061999 when ready.”

  There’s a pause, like it’s thinking things over. Maybe the engine wasn’t done recharging after all?

  “ACCESS DENIED.”

  “What?” That doesn’t make sense. “Ship,” I say again firmly, sitting back in my chair. It must have been some kind of glitch. “This is Jacksonville Graham. Set a course for Earth. Engage Protocol 061999.”

  “ACCESS DENIED.”

  “Access denied?! How? By who?!”

  This time, the computer doesn’t miss a beat. “BECKENHAM PIERCE,” it answers. I think I hear a note of satisfaction in its voice. “AND ARIZONA BOWMAN.”

  No.

  My heart plummets through the floor. I spin around and stare back at them. Becka is meeting my eyes, but Ari is looking down at Doctor Shrew.

  “Ari figured out how to overwrite the control software,” Becka tells me. “The ship helped a little too. We removed your access when you left the bridge.”

  I stand up and storm over to Ari, my blood boiling. He’s still looking down at Doctor Shrew. “How could you? That was my dad’s software you overwrote. He was the one who gave me access. You had no right to take it away.”

  He looks me straight in the eyes, not the least bit guilty. “No,” he says. “We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to make decisions together. But instead, you’ve been mean. And bossy. You think everyone else’s judgment is getting clouded by their feelings. Becka’s because of Diana. Mine because of . . .” He clears his throat. “. . . stuff. But you have it backwards. You’re the one who’s not thinking straight. Not us.”

  I can’t believe this. It’s taking all my willpower not to explode. I clench my teeth and look back at Becka.

  She stands up and walks around her console toward me, cracking her knuckles like she’s on the attack. I don’t care. I’m not moving. I plant my feet.

  But she doesn’t punch me. Instead, she walks past me toward the center of the bridge and takes a seat in my chair.

  Say whatever you
want about me never having actually been in charge of anything. Say that all I’ve ever been was a kid playing pretend. But that chair is real. This ship is real. I am the captain.

  Or, at least, I was the captain.

  Until my crew staged a mutiny.

  26

  I sit down in Becka’s boring, non-captainy chair, in front of her former computer station. She’s sitting happily where I used to sit, spinning round and round in the chair, like it’s the teacup ride on Walt Disney Moon.

  I never should have given them access to the computer. I never should’ve trusted them.

  And I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna speed through this next part. It doesn’t really involve me all that much anyway. (So it can’t be that good of a story.)

  Anyway, Ari and Becka’s brilliant plan is this: (1) Re-broadcast the code that the Elvidian guard gave us—the one that got us off Elvid IV in the first place. (2) Dress Becka up in the helmet that the guard left behind, along with one of Ari’s old Halloween costumes. (3) Send a message to the prison saying that the Minister is ordering the release of all the umjerrylochners. (4) Pick everyone up from the roof. (5) Go home.

  “And we have a fail-safe,” Ari says way too many times to be reassuring. “The second there’s trouble, we use the light speed engine to get out of here.”

  This is obviously the worst plan I’ve ever heard. There are a thousand reasons why it shouldn’t work. For example: #1: Wouldn’t the guard who gave us the code have already reported it stolen? #18: Why would the Elvidians believe that the Minister gave us orders? #613: How are we supposed to get far enough away from the planet to use the light speed engine if (or when) something goes wrong?

  But it works.

  Breaking everyone out of jail is unbelievably easy. Without any help from me, Becka and Ari successfully pull off steps 1-4.

  They’ve “assigned” me to head down to the hangar bay and bring everyone up to speed. The 118ers are all onboard now, and the hangar bay doors close behind them.

  “What’s happening?” Principal Lochner asks me.

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Let’s start with the bad news.” The teachers and crewmembers gather next to him as the students mill around in confusion.

  “Okay,” I say, but my voice is drowned out by everyone’s worried chatter. I hop on top of a small metal storage box. “Okay!” I shout, getting everyone’s attention. The room quiets down. “Hi. We don’t have a lot of time. So here are the highlights. Becka, Ari, and I stole back our ship and got our light speed engine refueled. We’re trying to get home. Back to Earth, actually. Ganymede is, um—” I think twice about telling the total truth here. We can explain everything later. “Ganymede might be dangerous.”

  “Our light speed engine?” is all Principal Lochner asks.

  Mrs. Watts glares at me like she wishes I’d left her in jail.

  “Long story,” I explain. “And I’ll tell you everything once we’re safe. I promise. For now, all you need to know is that things might go bad really fast. If you ask me, there’s no way the Elvidians won’t come after us. And we can’t use the engine to get back to our solar system until we’re far enough away from the planet. Oh yeah, and there’s a giant alien conspiracy to keep younger civilizations from ever achieving high tech capabilities.”

  Mr. Cardegna just blinks.

  “Wasn’t there good news?” Ms. Needle asks after a few seconds.

  “No one’s blown us up yet?” I offer. “And we’re all together now? Oh, and time travel’s a thing. So there’s that.”

  Principal Lochner nods. “Jack is right. We’re together now, and we’re back on the 118.” He turns to the three members of the ship’s crew. “Harriet, Georgia, Tim, get us out of here.”

  The crewmembers don’t look too excited to be back in action, but Harriet goes over to the nearest control panel anyway and puts her hand on it.

  “WELCOME, LAKE HARRIET LITTLE,” the ship says. “YOUR ACCESS HAS BEEN REVOKED.”

  Harriet stares blankly at the control panel. Principal Lochner turns to me. “What’s going on?”

  “I think Ari and Becka locked everyone else out,” I say.

  The ship rocks to one side—nothing bad, just Ari’s usual bumpy takeoff. “So who’s flying the ship?” demands Principal Lochner.

  “Uh, Ari.”

  His eyes go supernova and I think fast about my options. Ari and Becka locked me out too, and I haven’t gotten over that. It would be easy to work with Principal Lochner and get the adults back in control.

  But—no thanks to me—Ari and Becka’s plan is really working. Now’s not the time to get in the way.

  Besides, we started all this. We should be the ones who finish it.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ve got this. Becka’s on scanning and I’m in charge of the light speed engine.” A bit of a lie, but whatever. “So the rest of you can just, uh, hang out until we get home.”

  Principal Lochner looks at me skeptically.

  “They’re children,” Mrs. Watts reminds him, as if I’m not standing a foot away from her. It’s like the first thing I’ve heard her say since the assembly. “They all need to be disciplined.”

  Principal Lochner doesn’t look at her. “Later, Enid. Later.” He’s still staring me down, wrestling with what to do. Finally, he speaks. “All right. I can see that it’s going to take a while for us to understand everything that’s happening. So in the meantime, I guess I have no choice but to trust your judgment, Jack.” He turns to the teachers. “Take everyone to the gym and stay there until this is all over. It’s the safest place on the ship—farthest away from the outer hull in case something happens.”

  He looks over at Ms. Needle.

  “The hooks in the floor? By the bleachers? Grab the extra-long bungee straps. Jump ropes. Whatever. Strap everyone in as best you can.”

  She nods, and Principal Lochner turns to Harriet.

  “Go with everyone to the gym,” he says.

  “Oh thank you,” she exhales, which isn’t that surprising, I guess. The crew isn’t known for their work ethic.

  He looks at her sternly. “And be ready with a remote flight portal just in case.”

  She nods sheepishly. “Of course, boss.”

  Principal Lochner turns back to me.

  “But if you think that I am not going to come with you to my command bridge—well, that’s not going to happen.” He extends an arm toward the corridor behind the shuttles. “After you.”

  ***

  We rejoin Ari and Becka on the bridge just in time for everything to go wrong.

  I sit back down behind Becka’s old computer console and Principal Lochner silently joins me. He pulls a small bench out from under the controls, sits down, and straps himself in with a seatbelt I didn’t see before.

  “Don’t you think you all should be wearing your seatbelts?” he asks.

  Becka turns around to give him the stink-eye. But I can see it dawning on her that, yeah, we probably should be wearing our seatbelts. We all strap in.

  “Almost there, Jack,” Becka says smugly. “Look out for an ‘I told you so.’”

  But as we break low-orbit—still a few minutes away from the edge of the light speed jamming—the screen in front of us flickers with static.

  We keep moving, because what else are we supposed to do? But the static slowly clears and reveals a familiar image: an Elvidian woman, holding a scepter made of lasers, sitting on a black crystal throne.

  “Hello,” she says. “I am the Minister.”

  Becka immediately slumps down into her seat as Principal Lochner asks, “Was that supposed to happen?” And I’m sorry, I know this is a bad time, but I can’t help it. I lean forward as far as I can stretch and whisper in Becka’s ear.

  “I told you so.”

  27

  “You’ve traveled so far and now have nothing to say?”

  What’s there to say? We’ve been caught. The flash of
satisfaction I felt at Becka’s expense disappears. It doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. We’re all going down now.

  But Becka quickly finds her nerve. “Oh please,” she says. “You’re not so tough. We managed to escape your prison and get back here and rescue everyone else.”

  “Almost rescue,” the Minister clarifies. “And let me tell you a different story, shall I? A story of a primitive ship manned by three children and of an escape that was permitted to happen. Up to a point.”

  And I’m listening to them. I am. But mostly, I’m staring at the screen, at the Minister, at what’s behind the Minister. Eight or ten other Elvidians standing in a semi-circle around her. Some kind of council? Military leaders? They’re dressed in these dark cloaks, with hoods pulled almost entirely over their eyes, so I can barely tell them apart. Except for one of them. Standing at the Minister’s right shoulder. Creases running down his cheeks. Eyes exposed. Looking right at me.

  “I will confess,” the Minister goes on, “I had not anticipated your initial jailbreak. I still do not quite understand how you managed to convince the guard of your fabricated illness. But no matter. I quickly recognized it as an opportunity.”

  The Elvidian behind the Minister—the one making eyes at me—lets his hood slip even further, which confirms it: Bale Kontra. The Elvidian who’s been helping us. He’s here. With her.

  I share a quick look with Ari and Becka. They’ve both noticed too.

  Which is when Bale Kontra lets his eyes go wide for just a moment, as if to tell us, Don’t say a word. And maybe also, Why would you come back here after all my warnings?

  “You see,” the Minister continues. “I distrusted you humans from the start. First your little ship has the nerve to think it can travel the stars. Then you evaded the Quarantine and entered Elvidian space, which gave you certain”—she says this last word like it tastes like too much garlic—“rights.”

  “I knew you were trouble. Unworthy. But we are a law-abiding people. And you had only managed to break one law: unauthorized parking. In order to assume jurisdiction over you and get rid of you permanently, I needed to wait for you to commit a more serious crime. Escaping from custody and staging a prison break will do nicely.”