My Teacher Glows in the Dark

  “What else is there?” I asked, more nervous than ever.

  “I would rather not say. After all, the teacher does not necessarily discuss all options with the student.”

  I wondered if the captain really meant “with the enemy.” But I couldn’t think of a way to say it that didn’t sound snotty.

  “Anyway,” continued the captain, “you can see that your presence here creates a problem.”

  “Are you going to lock me up?”

  The bells that filled the air seemed to sigh. “You see? Only an earthling would think of something like that so quickly. I suppose if you persisted in causing trouble, we might lock you up. But that’s just not something we do. However, we do have to decide what we will do with you. So tell me, what is it that brought you here? What do you want?”

  “To learn,” I said fiercely.

  “Admirable. However, you must realize that the more you learn, the less likely it is we can ever let you return home.”

  “I don’t care about home. I want to see the stars.”

  “You could have seen them from your own backyard.”

  “I want to visit other planets. I want to explore the galaxy. I want to find out what it’s all about!” I cried, suddenly realizing I might be the only human ever to have that chance.

  “Then you are welcome to join us. You will be assigned to Hoo-Lan, who has been specializing in Earth studies of late.”

  “How is Broxholm going to feel about that?” I asked, though for all I knew Broxholm never wanted to see me again.

  “That’s not an issue,” said the captain. “Broxholm has other matters to which he must attend. As do I, my new crewmember. Which means that you must leave now. The elevator will take you to your cabin.”

  Feeling a trifle nervous, I headed for the circle where we had come in. When I glanced back, the captain’s tank had changed color. I heard the word for “Farewell” chime through the air as I stepped through the wall.

  I didn’t feel anything this time, none of the tearing sensation that had scared me so much on my first trip through the transcendental elevator. So I figured Hoo-Lan had adjusted the mechanism for me. But the place the elevator delivered me to was so dark I was afraid the thing had malfunctioned.

  My heart began to pound. What if it had sent me someplace where no one would be able to find me, some neglected storage space or something? Rooms on this ship didn’t even have doors! If I got stuck in a place like that I might die before anyone found me.

  I was about to scream for help when a blue light began to glow behind me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hoo-Lan

  I spun around and found myself face to face with Hoo-Lan.

  Well, face to face isn’t quite right; given how short he was, it was more like navel to face. Anyway, he was the source of the light. And I mean that exactly. The little alien wasn’t carrying a lamp or a flashlight or anything. He was glowing—a soft, gentle glow that seemed to come from every square inch of his skin.

  “For heaven’s sakes, Peter,” said Hoo-Lan quietly, “don’t be so skittish.”

  It took me a moment to realize that the words were spoken in perfect English. I stared at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you could speak my language.”

  “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, and a great deal that I have to tell you. That’s why I arranged to have you sent here, instead of your own room. I needed a place where we could speak in relative secrecy.”

  “Secrecy?” I asked nervously.

  “Great things are happening,” said Hoo-Lan, glancing from side to side. “Power is shifting, and ancient mysteries are being unraveled.” His glow seemed to grow more intense. His voice, and his words, sent a chill down my spine.

  “What does that have to do with me?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Nothing, and everything. Remember, information travels fast, if you know how to grease its skids.” He paused, then added, “I’m not sure that made sense.”

  “Why are we here?” I asked, trying to get him back on track. “Where are we, for that matter?”

  “In a storage space in the lower third of the good ship New Jersey, which at the moment is heading past the planet you call Jupiter.”

  That scared me. The last spacecraft Earth sent past Jupiter had taken years to get there. We must be moving at an incredible rate! On the other hand, it was a straight answer. Shooting for two in a row, I asked, “What did you bring me here to tell me?”

  Hoo-Lan motioned toward a box, indicating I should sit. In the light emanating from his body, I could see that the room was filled with containers of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

  I sat. Hoo-Lan scrambled up next to me. Reaching into a pocket in his baggy shorts, he pulled out a black box about half the size of a paperback book.

  “You rat,” he said, handing it to me.

  “What did I do?” I asked, feeling hurt.

  Hoo-Lan blinked. “What did you . . . ? Oh, you misunderstood me. I didn’t call you a rat. This device is a URAT—a Universal Reader And Translator. Press your thumb against the top corner.”

  I did as Hoo-Lan said. The box opened, pretty much the way a book would if it was only made of two very thick pages. Except the URAT was now stiff, as if it had never been closed.

  “This will be your primary information source,” said Hoo-Lan. “It contains a small library of important data for navigating your way around the ship. Also a complete listing of crew members. Now, please tell it your name.”

  “My name is—”

  “Wait, wait! I think you need a new name.”

  “What’s wrong with the one I’ve got?” I asked, feeling a little annoyed. I don’t know why I was annoyed. Peter Thompson was nothing special as names go. Heck, the Thompson part came from my father, and I was as glad to be rid of him as he was to be rid of me. No loss there. As for my first name, it was mostly something people used to get my attention when they wanted to tease me. So a new name shouldn’t have been any big deal. Still, I had had this one all my life, and I felt somewhat attached to it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your old name,” said Hoo-Lan patiently. “It’s just that it’s part of your old life. New life, new name, I always say. I shall call you Krepta, which in the language of my world means ‘Child of the Stars.’ This is a good name for you, since you are a boy without a planet.”

  I felt my stomach twist. “A boy without a planet” sounded terribly lonely.

  I hesitated. “My name is Krepta,” I whispered into the URAT. “Child of the Stars.”

  “Greetings, Krepta,” replied the URAT. “How may I be of service?”

  I looked at Hoo-Lan.

  “Tell it you wish to travel,” he said.

  “Where do you wish to go?” asked the URAT, after I had followed Hoo-Lan’s advice.

  “Actually, I would like something to eat,” I said.

  “Wise choice,” said Hoo-Lan. “Biologically sound, too. When you get to a new place, always find out where to eat and where to hide.”

  “Will I need to hide here?” I asked nervously.

  Hoo-Lan shrugged. I would have pursued the question, but the URAT had started beeping. Looking at it, I saw a pattern of colored dots. It was the same pattern I had seen next to the transcendental elevator. Suddenly some of the dots began to flash.

  “It’s displaying the destination code,” said Hoo-Lan. “When you want to go somewhere, ask the URAT for the code. Punch the code into the control pad beside any elevator, and it will take you to your destination.”

  “Can I go anywhere I want?”

  “Of course,” said Hoo-Lan. “Why not?”

  “Well, don’t you have rules—you know, security precautions against spies, things like that?”

  “You have to stop thinking as if you were still on Earth, Peter. We’re not the same as you are. I’m the closest thing to a spy on this ship. Certainly the biggest troublemaker.”

  I looked at him in alarm. “Are you going
to get me in trouble?” I asked nervously.

  “Oh, probably. Anyone who tries to do something worthwhile gets in trouble now and then, don’t you think?”

  To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what to think. I decided to get some more information, and do the thinking later. “What do you mean, you’re the closest thing to a spy?” I asked. “Are you a spy, or aren’t you?”

  “Merely a representative of a minority point of view. As you know, your planet is currently the focus of a great debate. At the moment, I am on the losing side of that debate.”

  “What side is that?”

  Before Hoo-Lan could answer, I heard another beeping. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a second URAT. When he opened it, a face that looked like it belonged to a purple frog appeared on its surface and said, “You are wanted for an urgent meeting.”

  “The main problem with these things,” said Hoo-Lan, tucking away his URAT and hopping down to the floor, “is that they’re great for communication, but lousy for privacy. I’m sorry, Krepta, but I can’t ignore this call. We’ll talk more later. For now, why don’t you get something to eat. I’ll catch up with you in a while.”

  He crossed to the wall and started to punch a code into the elevator buttons. Then he stopped, turned to me, and said, “Since you can’t see in the dark, maybe you’d better go first.”

  That made sense. When Hoo-Lan left he would take my only source of light—namely, himself—with him.

  I stepped up to the wall. My URAT was still flashing the code for a dining area, the image of the buttons lighting up in a certain order, pausing, and then repeating the sequence.

  I watched the code twice, then punched it into the control pad. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the wall—and into the middle of a fight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lunch with Fleef and Gurk

  “It was a bad idea from the beginning!” said an alien who looked something like a tall brown pickle with arms.

  “Nonsense!” snapped the orange alien standing next to him. “A few hours wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference to those creatures.”

  This second alien was only a little taller than me, and clearly female, at least by Earth standards. Though her skin was orange, her features were basically human—well, except for the fact that she had a thumb-thick green stalk rising from the top of her head. The stalk ended in a thick knob, which I took to be a sense organ of some sort, since it was constantly rotating. Every once in a while it would stop moving and go, “Neep! Neep!”

  “Ah, look!” cried the orange alien, when she noticed me standing there. “We can ask him!”

  “It might be nice if we greeted him first,” said the pickle.

  “Flog me for an oaf!” cried the orange one. “I just get too excited sometimes.” Turning to me, she said, “You are the Earth child, are you not?”

  Her voice was sweet and gentle.

  “I used to be,” I replied. “Now I’m a child of the stars.”

  The orange alien nudged the pickle. “What did I tell you, Gurk. It doesn’t matter!”

  Gurk squeezed one of the warty things that covered his pickly skin. It popped, releasing a terrible smell.

  My implant told me this was his way of saying “Nonsense!”

  “Euuuw!” cried the orange alien. “I told you not to do that!” The stalk on the top of her head flopped backwards. “Neep,” it whispered. “Neee—”

  I looked at the alien in alarm, worried that the knob might be permanently disabled, or even dead. But she seemed more annoyed than concerned.

  Gurk put his hands on top of his head, which was a gesture of apology. “Sorry, I got carried away. But I still think you’re mistaken. Let’s start this conversation over, or we’ll give the young one a bad impression.”

  He turned to me. I got ready to hold my breath, in case he was going to communicate by smell again. But his voice was quiet, and when I looked at him more carefully, I realized that he had the kindest, warmest eyes I had ever seen.

  Putting his skinny arms together in front of him, he said, “Young one, my name is Gurk. My companion is called Fleef.”

  “Greetings,” said Fleef, who was trying to get the stalk on her head to stand up again.

  “Greetings,” I replied.

  They both looked at me expectantly. “And your name?” asked Gurk, after a moment of silence.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is—” I hesitated. Was I Peter Thompson—or was I Krepta?

  The aliens were staring at me. I had a sense that they were beginning to wonder if I was stupid.

  “My name is Krepta!” I said defiantly.

  As I said it, I felt something twist inside me. I had let go of my name and my home, and though I had a new name, and a new home, neither one of them felt like they were really mine.

  I wondered if they ever would. I almost said, “Wait, I made a mistake! My name is Peter!”

  But that would have been a lie. I wasn’t Peter anymore. Hoo-Lan had been right. I was a boy without a planet, and the name I had carried away from Earth no longer fit me.

  “Krepta!” said Gurk in surprise. “A Child of the Stars, indeed. And what happened to the name you were born with?”

  “I am a different person now,” I said softly.

  “Well, Krepta,” said Fleef, “come and sit with us while we eat. Perhaps you can help us settle a disagreement.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat with the two of them. Still, if I was going to get along on this ship, I did need to start making friends.

  “I’d be glad to eat with you,” I said, hoping neither one of them was going to eat something so gross I would get sick just watching them swallow it.

  “Are you touchable?” asked Gurk.

  I raised an eyebrow. His translator must have interpreted the movement, because he answered the question before I could put it into words.

  “Some beings like to be touched, others are deeply offended by certain kinds of contact,” he explained, his wonderful eyes looking straight into mine. “If touch does not bother you, then I would put my arm around your shoulder, or place a hand on the back of your neck, to guide you to the sitting place. But it is best to ask, first.”

  I hesitated. My father wasn’t much of a hugger. So the only person who had touched me much back home was Duncan Dougal, and that was only to punch me. Since I wasn’t used to it, I was a little nervous about having Gurk touch me, especially with that pickly skin of his. On the other hand, this was a new world, a new life. . . .

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You can touch me.”

  I thought about adding something about being careful where he touched me, but he had been so worried about offending me at all, I decided it wasn’t going to be a problem.

  Besides, even though I hadn’t gone three steps past the elevator, I could see a whole room full of people just beyond Fleef and Gurk. So I figured I was safe for the time being—at least, as safe as a kid can be in a room where he’s the only person who looks more than vaguely human.

  Taking me by the arm, Gurk led me to a table at the edge of the room. “There are many beings interested in you,” he whispered, “so there’s no need to draw too much attention to yourself right now.”

  “For once we agree,” said Fleef.

  “Neep!” said the thing on top of her head. I noticed the stalk was standing up straight again.

  I also noticed that the room was sort of dim. I was a little puzzled about this, until I decided they had probably set the light at a level most comfortable for the greatest number of different beings.

  “Where do we get our food?” I asked.

  “Right here!” said Fleef, gesturing to the table.

  The table was round, with a smooth black top. In front of each of us was a set of buttons much like the ones beside the transcendental elevators.

  “Do we use these to order?” I asked, pointing to the buttons.

  “See, I told you they weren’t stupid!” said Gurk.
>
  “Intelligence and emotion are not always connected,” replied Fleef. Her orange skin grew darker as she spoke, which my translator informed me was a sign that she was irritated.

  “Could you tell me what this is all about?” I asked, trying not to do anything that was going to offend either one of them.

  “Later,” said Gurk. “First let’s order. Have you programmed in any meals yet?”

  I shook my head, trusting Gurk’s implant to translate the gesture.

  “All right, then we’ll have to show you how. You are a carbon-based life form, if I remember correctly?”

  I nodded, wondering what they would feed me if I wasn’t.

  “All right, first you punch in your personal code—”

  “But I don’t have a personal code,” I interrupted.

  “Gurk,” said Fleef gently, “let me show him how.”

  Gurk slid some warts around, which was his way of sighing, and sat back in his chair while Fleef showed me how to find my personal code. Then she helped me tell the master computer the kinds of things that I would like. It took a while, because the food synthesizer wasn’t programmed for an earthling. But by asking careful questions, she was able to help me come up with a menu that we both felt would (a) not kill me and (b) not make me throw up.

  We all punched in the codes for our meals at the same time. Within seconds a hole opened in the top of the table. Three plates floated out and positioned themselves in front of us.

  Gurk’s plate had a steaming, writhing mess of something that looked like it wanted to crawl across the table and say hello to me.

  Fleef’s dinner looked like blue marbles and smelled like rotten eggs mixed with toe jam.

  The stuff on my plate actually looked pretty good. That was because Fleef had showed me how to program color and shape into my order. While it didn’t taste quite as good as it looked, at least most of it was edible. The only thing I couldn’t get down was the stuff that looked like french fries but tasted like peanut butter mixed with rotten blueberries.