Galactic Adventures Page 4

  ‘How was that, big boy?’ Palatnik whoops.

  Scott bursts into tears. ‘I want to go home. Don’t make me do it again.’

  Yada is howling with laughter as she spins out of control across the plane.

  Zarif has a slight smile on his face as he stares straight ahead at the cockpit. Then he drifts away from the railing, his body outstretched. He’s flying like Superman. He wobbles for a second and Palatnik helps steady him. Then Zarif just floats.

  ‘Whoo!’ Palatnik screams. ‘All you sissies and birdbrains, look here. We have an astronaut!’

  Raf stops vomiting for a second. Scott quits moaning. We all watch Zarif. I decide, in that moment, that I want to be Zarif. And that I hate him. He isn’t screaming or whooping with joy. I want to have that kind of control, but my body just won’t listen. As the plane levels out Zarif does a perfect somersault and lands.

  I know I have to lift my game. My stomach twists like a washing machine as the G-Force shoves me down into the floor. I know I have to impress Palatnik before the flight ends.

  At the top of the next drop my legs float upward and I try taking one hand off the rails. My legs drift to the ceiling. As soon as I’m upside down Yada comes flying over from the other side of the plane and we smack helmets.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she says.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, looking over at Palatnik.

  ‘Come and fly!’ she screams.

  I take a breath.

  I try not to think about falling.

  I let go.

  I float across the plane. I’m doing okay.

  I’m doing well. I’m heading towards the other wall.

  I’m flying.

  My body twists.

  I lose balance.

  The plane starts to bottom out.

  I crash-land.

  I nearly break my collarbone as the plane hits its lowest point.

  Palatnik snorts.

  It pretty much goes on like that for the rest of the flight. Raf vomits. Scott acts like a frightened gerbil. Yada crashes and smashes and laughs her butt off. I try hard and fail harder. Z flies. It’s like he’s focussed on some distant prize that the rest of of us can’t even see.

  After what seems like days, our last freefall is over and the plane, rather than climbing into the sky again, continues to the ground. Four out of five of us have hurled. I lick my lips with a dry tongue, my mouth all nasty. I watch Zarif sitting on the other side of the plane against the wall, talking shop with Palatnik. I can’t hear them, but I can see that they’re having a good time.

  My body slumps. I feel real bad. I’ve choked on the first challenge. Just as well I’m awesome at washing other people’s undies. It’s nice to have something to fall back on.

  8. Roomies

  There is a knock at the bathroom door.

  ‘C’mon,’ says a voice. ‘I’m bustin’ here.’

  I splash my face with water. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

  ‘I haven’t got a minute,’ Scott says. ‘You been in there too long already. I swear I’ll explode. Lemme use the john.’

  It seems like every time I go to the bathroom or have a shower, Scott is ‘bustin’’. I pull my t-shirt on, zip my toiletry bag and unlock the door. He bursts through it, runs for the toilet and slams the cubicle door. I slip out into the corridor as fast as I can before I hear sounds that might scar me for life.

  I walk down the hall and into our small dorm room, where the others are hanging before dinner. There isn’t much space. Just a narrow strip of floor a couple of metres wide as you walk in and then five sleep capsules set into the wall directly in front of you.

  When the other kids went home after the top-five announcement, we were all moved into one dorm. Zarif’s capsule is up top now. Scott, Yada and Raf are in the middle, eye-level capsules. I’m down at floor level. I’m trying not to see this as a sign.

  Right now, Zarif is on the floor doing push-ups. Raf is in her capsule studying the astronomy textbook on one of the digital readers they gave us. Yada is looking at herself in the small round mirror at the end of the room, trying on these big white furry bunny gloves and bunny ears. She has whiskers painted on, too. She looks pretty happy with herself.

  ‘Who brings bunny ears to Space School?’ I say.

  ‘Meeeeeeeeeeee!’ Yada hops past Zarif, sniffs my neck and then jumps into her capsule.

  Down on the floor, my bed is more like a burrow. Maybe I should swap with Yada.

  I watch Zarif. The dude is musclier than me. He’s tall, black, smart, a pilot, athletic, extraordinary. We could be in a buddy-movie together. I’m the opposite: shortish, white, average in school. I’ve never flown anything apart from the rockets I build, and I’ve never won a running race in my life. Look up ‘ordinary’ on Wikipedia and there’s actually a picture of me. But I’ve never wanted anything this much before. Space School is my shot at changing all that.

  ‘Whooo! That’s better,’ Scott says, coming back into the room. I notice that he has his Nikes on the wrong feet again. ‘Good to take a load off.’

  Rafaella makes a face. ‘Please don’t say any more.’

  ‘Hey, I been thinkin’,’ Scott says as he climbs up into his sleep capsule.

  ‘Congratulations,’ mumbles Raf.

  ‘I been thinkin’ about the kids who died. You guys know much about them?’

  Yada pokes her head out of her rabbit-hole. ‘Which kids?’

  ‘The kids,’ Scott says.

  I turn around so that my head is hanging out the end of my capsule. I look up and see that Scott’s head is hanging out, too.

  ‘What kids?’ says Yada.

  ‘That’s a rumour.’ Rafaella rolls over inside her capsule.

  ‘It so is not,’ says Scott. ‘My mum even says.’

  Since she’s an astronaut, his mum would know.

  ‘The US government has never acknowledged it.’ Zarif is doing sit-ups now.

  ‘Will someone please tell me what kids?’ says Yada.

  ‘The kids who died going to space.’ Scott can’t believe we’re that dumb.

  ‘Conspiracy theory!’ Raf says again.

  ‘True!’ snaps Scott.

  ‘Kids have died going to space?’ Yada’s bunny ears are twitching. ‘When?’

  ‘1971,’ I say.

  ‘You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘I thought everybody knew,’ I say.

  ‘No. They didn’t,’ she says.

  ‘Because it’s not true.’ Rafaella pokes her head out of her capsule.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Yada says, scratching her whiskers.

  ‘Well,’ says Scott, ‘There were these kids . . .’

  ‘I know that!’ she says. ‘I want to know what happened to them.’

  ‘They died,’ Scott says.

  ‘Can somebody else please tell this story?’ she says. ‘This boy is getting on my nerves.’

  ‘It was a secret government mission.’ Scott whispers as though the room is bugged. ‘They wanted to build a moon base and they needed to know if kids could live in space. If astronauts were in space for a long time, maybe they’d have kids or take their own kids up. Whatever. This was totally classified. They launched from Area 51, not far from here. They only released the details a couple years back.’

  ‘This is so not true.’ Raf rolls her eyes and disappears back inside her capsule.

  ‘It’s rude to butt in,’ says Scott. ‘Anyway, they were gonna be the first kids in space. The government kept it real hush-hush, because they knew people would hate the idea of sending kids up. They were ready to announce it as soon as they landed safely. But they didn’t. They didn’t even launch properly. There was a big fire on the launch pad, the rocket we
nt BLAM! and they were barbecued like a burger.’

  There is silence for a few moments, while we take this in.

  ‘What—? How did they keep it secret? And why did they tell everyone about it now? And did it really happen? Really?’ says Yada.

  ‘It did. It is on the internet.’

  There was a snort from Zarif on the floor. ‘Must be true, then.’

  ‘Don’t listen to those guys. I’ll show you the site,’ says Scott. ‘It’s not a conspiracy theory. I’ll call my mum right now, if you like.’

  Yada squints at him. ‘So we are the next try at sending kids into space?’

  ‘I guess,’ says Scott. ‘Unless the Russians have sent some. Or the Chinese. Or the Indians.’

  ‘But what if that happens to us?’ Yada takes her bunny ears off. ‘What if we get barbecued like sausage, or whatever you said?’

  ‘About five per cent of astronauts have died in operations or training,’ Zarif says. ‘This isn’t pre-school. There’s a good chance we won’t come out of this alive.’

  I feel like I want to say something to him, but I can’t be bothered getting into an argument. He’d only win. I just wish that Scott hadn’t brought it up at all. It makes me feel weird.

  There’s a sharp knock on the door of the dorm. I look up and wait for Leonie from the restaurant to call, ‘Dinner is served!’ as she does every night around this time.

  Instead, Palatnik comes in. He’s groomed and dressed the same every time I see him. Head neatly shaved. Blue overalls. Face set to ‘Grim’. We all jump out of our capsules and stand in a row.

  ‘Would the following people please pack their bags—’

  My stomach drops like I’m back on the comet.

  ‘Scott Garfield.’ Palatnik checks his folder. ‘Rafaella Kiero.’ Raf can’t believe it. ‘And Dash Campbell. None of you even attempted to participate on the Zero-G Jet today. I can’t afford to take up a kid who’s going to endanger my crew. No how. There are no second chances at space school. I don’t think either of you three have what it takes to make a space traveller.’

  It feels like he’s kicked me in the stomach. I stand there, mouth open. More than half of us are gone on the first day.

  Rafaella covers her face with her hands.

  Scott starts sooking.

  Yada puts her hand on my back, but I shrug it off.

  ‘Except this once,’ Palatnik adds.

  I’m not sure what he means.

  ‘The three of you can stay,’ he says. ‘For now. But this is the one warning I will give you. Next time you turn in a performance like that, somebody goes down.’

  He turns and leaves the room. We watch as he disappears up the corridor and we stand there for a long time. It feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room.

  We drag ourselves to the restaurant for dinner. Nobody says anything about dead kids or going home. No one says anything at all.

  9. The Dead of Night

  I hear the click of the door and my eyes flick open. Marv skitters from one side of my sleep capsule to the other. He starts gnawing on the corner of the mattress. He does this when he’s nervous. My vision is a bit blurry, but I can make out the door. It’s open a crack. There is a figure lit from behind, standing in the doorway. I click the light button on my watch. It’s 1.22 am.

  I slowly raise my head. The figure is small, a boy. But it’s too skinny to be Scott, too short to be Zarif. I wonder if any of the others can see the shape. And does the shape know that I can see it?

  The boy pushes the door open a bit further and light from the hall falls on me. I squint, sit up and bang my head on the top of my sleep capsule.

  The shape turns and runs away, up the hall. Grabbing Marv, I shuffle to the end of my bed. ‘C’mon. I’m not going alone.’

  I jump to my feet, run across to the door and peer out. The figure is gone. I step into the hall and whisper, ‘Hello?’ There are doors on both sides of the hallway leading to cleaning cupboards, toilets and other dorms, but I haven’t heard the sound of a door closing. I scamper up to the end of the hallway, where it joins another one. To the right I can see for miles into the admin section of the spaceport as well as the gym, some classrooms and the simulators. The hall is lit in pools of yellowish light every fifteen or twenty metres. There are glowing digital frames on the walls showing images of the spaceport’s construction, the development of Johnston’s plane fleet and the first launch. But there’s no sign of the kid.

  I turn to the left, where almost immediately there’s a glass door onto the main courtyard. I sneak down to the door, rest my palms on the glass and gaze out into the blue, full-moonlit night. Marv pokes his head out of my pyjama top pocket. We fog the door with our breath. I look at the sky and I don’t recognise it. Usually the Southern Cross is the first thing I look for, but it’s not there. For the first time since I left home ten days ago I feel homesick.

  I look out at the statue of Dennis Tito, the world’s first space tourist, standing proudly in the centre of the vast green stretch of grass. When they erect my statue, will they include Marv, too? First Australian rat in space maybe?

  Over on the far side of the central courtyard is the hangar with Galactic 7 in it. I can’t see the kid anywhere. I hear heavy footsteps and turn to look down the long hallway. I’m scared it’s Palatnik. His room isn’t far from here. Marv sinks back into my pocket, like he knows something’s about to go down.

  It’s a security guard heading straight for me.

  ‘Can I help y’with anything?’ she says in a slow, southern accent. She’s a large woman with freckles, dark brown hair in a ponytail and wearing navy blue pants and shirt with the spaceport logo on her chest pocket. Her name tag says, ‘Bonnie’.

  ‘Um, no, I was just – going to the toilet.’

  ‘Down there on your right,’ she says, looking at me oddly. ‘Near your room. You should know that by now. You kids been here more ‘n a week.’

  ‘Yeah. Just forgot.’

  ‘Where y’ from?’ she asks.

  ‘Australia.’

  She whistles. ‘Long way from home. Your momma here with you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t let my kids go that far by themselves. And they’re eighteen and nineteen! Your mum must sure trust you. Anyways, I hope we’re treatin’ y’okay. Sorry we ain’t got no croccydiles here for y’to play with.’

  I try to raise a smile. ‘Yep. Sure miss my pet crocodile. And I’m hanging for a kangaroo steak.’

  Bonnie guffaws. ‘You eat those things? That’s just awful. Now go on back to bed.’

  I turn down the hallway towards my room and Bonnie heads for the door to the courtyard. I hear her give the door a rattle and then I stop, turn and pop my head around the corner.

  ‘You didn’t see a kid around here, did you?’

  ‘Ah, yeah,’ she says.

  ‘Really?’ My heart gives a thump. ‘Who is he?’

  She smiles. ‘I’m lookin’ at ‘im.’

  ‘No, I mean another kid. About that tall.’ I point to about chest height. ‘A boy.’

  She pauses for a split second and then shakes her head.

  ‘Must be seein’ things,’ she says. ‘You go get some sleep.’

  I turn back to my room again and give some of the doors a little push as I go past, just to check. By the time I climb into bed it’s 1.34 and I’m already wondering if I dreamt the kid. But the security woman had hesitated. Like maybe she’d seen something. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

  I lie back, my neck on the cool pillow, my sheet pulled up to my shoulders. It’s dead quiet. Apart from the breathing of five kids and a rat.

  Soon sleep takes me, too. But all night I dream I’m stuck in a maze of hallways, chasing that kid’s shadow.

&nbs
p; 10. Boot Camp

  I push off the edge of the pool with the balls of my feet. My body wriggles through the air to give me extra distance. I break the water and carve through, just beneath the surface.

  When I come up for air I see Zarif staring right at me. We put our faces down and swim, stroke-for-stroke. Every four strokes I raise my mouth and one eyeball above the waterline to check where he is. Each time, I find myself looking directly at him.

  We touch the tiled wall at the end of our first lap, and push off. I have never kicked off a wall harder in my life. Palatnik is watching and I want to win. I need to make up for the Vomit Comet, and I’m a decent swimmer.

  It’s 5.09 now. We’re in the spaceport’s indoor pool. Nine minutes ago Palatnik came into our room, flicked on the lights and ordered us to get up and get dressed. ‘In space you must be prepared for anything,’ he said. ‘The human body has to be in perfect condition to survive in micro-gravity. Last thing we need is one of you dyin’ up there. I don’t have time for all the paperwork. Now, who thinks they’ll be going home today?’

  Nobody moved.

  ‘You?’ He looked at me.

  I shook my head and pulled on my training suit. ‘How about you?’ I said under my breath, just loud enough for Palatnik to hear.

  He didn’t say anything but I could see him logging my comment somewhere in his brain, storing his rage for some later date.

  I dig deeply into the water now, but when I come up for breath I can only see Zarif’s legs. My suit feels heavy and drags me down. We’re both wearing black Galactic flight suits with the silver star on the chest and a pair of sneakers. Palatnik has ordered us to swim three laps of the 25-metre pool in this gear, then tread water for ten minutes. It’s a standard astronaut training challenge, he reckons. But I think he made it up this morning just to be evil.