Starbounders

  DEDICATION

  For Brian and Scott,

  who are so much more than brothers to me.

  And for Billy,

  the older brother I never had.

  —A. J. E.

  For Ryder, Sam, and Nate,

  the next generation of Jacobsons.

  —A. J.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Starbinder of Terms

  About the Authors

  Back Ad

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  «ONE»

  Zachary moved swiftly then stopped, pressing his back up against a steel wall. He stood motionless, his index finger hovering above the trigger of his handheld sonic crossbow. In the silence, even the slightest breath of an approaching enemy could be heard. There was just one problem: robots didn’t breathe.

  Suddenly from around the corner a com-bot—a humanoid battle robot—appeared and kicked Zachary’s wrist, knocking his crossbow to the floor. Zachary jumped back, avoiding the battle robot’s second blow, a punch aimed for his head. The com-bot’s electrically charged fist hit the steel wall, smashing a hole straight through it.

  If Zachary was going to successfully complete his mission of neutralizing the system defenses, he’d have to move faster.

  Undeterred, the robot lunged, snaring Zachary’s wrist with its sparking metal claw. Immediately Zachary felt the current shock every nerve ending below his elbow, and his nostrils were flooded with the sulfurous odor of burned arm hair.

  Zachary stretched his free hand to grab the sonic crossbow off the floor and took aim. He pulled the trigger, and a focused beam of sound struck the com-bot, blasting off the arm that was gripping his wrist. The robot reached out with its other claw and snagged the sonic crossbow, crushing it.

  Zachary treaded backward, unintentionally cornering himself. With a snap, the com-bot’s wrist compartment opened, revealing a set of whirling blades. Not eager to be sliced open like a can of tuna, Zachary dived between the com-bot’s legs, rolling toward its disembodied arm and snatching it up. He swung the still-sparking claw, striking the chest of the com-bot and frying it instantly.

  Zachary ran for the access panel that would disable the system defenses. He began to input the thirty-digit binary code that he’d been supplied in his mission brief when a voice called out from a speaker on the wall. “Wrap it up down there, Zachary. Dinnertime.”

  “Okay, okay,” Zachary shouted. “Coming.”

  He went back to inputting numbers when the voice called again. One word: “Now!”

  Zachary left the com-bot still smoking in a heap on the floor and headed up the stairs. Pushing open the trapdoor in the ceiling, he climbed into his family’s two-car garage and walked out to the driveway.

  Zachary stopped to take it all in. Kids were riding down the sidewalk on bicycles and playing catch in the street. The smell of summer barbecue drifted over a nearby fence. He grinned to himself. Out here in the suburbs of Maryland, nobody knew that com-bots or sonic crossbows even existed. And they definitely had no idea that there was a Starbounder training simulator hidden underneath their neighbor’s garage.

  Zachary’s sister, Danielle, was sitting on the living room floor with game controller in hand. She was playing one of the many space-combat games she had grown to be an expert in. Enemy aircraft exploded on the screen as she blasted her way through the game’s futuristic skyline, but there was no sound coming from the TV. Danielle must have seen Zachary’s reflection, because she paused the game and turned toward him.

  You want to go head-to-head? she signed.

  “And humiliate you one last time before I leave?” Zachary said, signing at the same time. “Absolutely.”

  He hopped over the couch and sat beside her, snatching up a controller in his hand. Zachary’s dad stepped out from the kitchen.

  “You can save the sibling smackdown for after dinner,” he said and signed. “Now come set the table.”

  The two stood up with a sigh.

  It’s going to be quiet around here without you, Danielle signed to Zachary. Well, more so, she added with her typical deadpan humor.

  Danielle had been born with 85-percent hearing loss, and by the time she turned nine, that had increased to 95 percent. The cause was never determined, and even the most advanced hearing aids couldn’t help. To communicate with Danielle, the entire Night family had learned sign language, and the house had been tricked out with vibrating alarm clocks, and telephones and doorbells that set off strobe lights.

  I’ll be home for winter break in a few months, Zachary told her.

  They entered the kitchen, where his dad was stirring sauce on the stove and his mom was straining pasta over the sink.

  I still don’t know why I can’t go to Indigo 8, Danielle signed. It’s not fair.

  Zachary had thought the same thing when he was her age. But he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. He’d be leaving for Indigo 8 in the morning. A secret compound hidden within the Adirondack Mountains, it was an earthbound base of operations for the Inter Planetary Defense League, or IPDL for short. It was also the place where Starbounders-in-training were taught the skills needed to protect the galaxy from outerverse threats.

  Zachary would be spending the next five years of his life there, foregoing high school in favor of a different kind of education—one that would take him to places he had only dreamed about. Looking at Danielle’s face, Zachary tried not to gloat, but he could hardly wait to get there.

  Zachary’s distant ancestor, Frederick Night, was one of the very first Starbounders. Generations of Nights followed, all the way down to Zachary’s parents and older brother, Jacob. Knowing his great-great-grandfather was a hero and his brother was a big shot made Zachary proud. He never doubted his ability to follow in their footsteps. Much.

  “I neutralized a com-bot programmed to lethal,” Zachary told his parents as he grabbed a stack of plates from the cupboard.

  “What you’ve learned down there is preschool compared to what’s coming,” Zachary’s mom said. “Just remember, there’s far more in this universe that you don’t know than you do.”

  “Mom, I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,” Zachary said. “I’m ready.”

  “Can I make a suggestion, Son?” Zachary’s dad asked. “After dinner, before you finish packing and turn in for bed, take your bike out for one last spin around the neighborhood. Believe it or not, you’re going to miss this place.”

  Which part? Zachary wondered. The single-lane bowling alley? The old movie theater playing the same film for months on end? Or the Dairy Queen where he and his friends would hang out on “exciting” nights?

  No, something told him he wasn’t going to miss Kingston at all.

  That night he had a hard time sleeping. The clock by his bed read 11:15 as he forced himself to shut his eyes, only to open them again minutes later. A digital picture frame his mom had hung on the wall showed a continuous slideshow of photos, and as he tossed and turned through the night, he opened his eyes to see himself in numerous scenes: casting a line while fishing on the Delaware River, building a model rocket in his backyard, wearing an Indigo 8 cap three sizes too big for his head. In just a few hours he’d be leaving to go there. He would
n’t know another soul. Everything would be different than it was at home. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.

  Finally morning came. The duffel bag was tossed in the trunk, Danielle was dropped off at a friend’s house, and Zachary and his parents were on their way. Six hours later, Zachary was sitting in the backseat staring out the window as his mom inched up a winding dirt road.

  “Mom, could you be going any slower?” Zachary asked.

  “You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Zachary’s dad replied. “They used to call her Breakneck back when she was piloting spaceships.”

  “It’s true,” Zachary’s mom said. “The reason you love fast things—go-karts, roller coasters, skateboarding down the roof of the school gym . . . You got that from me.”

  Zachary’s mom pulled the car into the gravel lot of what looked like a deserted park. Zachary and his mom found a picnic table and began unpacking sandwiches from a cooler when his father excitedly handed Zachary a mahogany box.

  “I wanted to give you this before we got there,” he said.

  Zachary put the mahogany box on the table and opened it to discover a metal orb the size of a tennis ball, with green and silver concentric circles looping around its surface. Looking closer, he could see a pulsing yellow light within the sphere.

  “My own warp glove?” Zachary asked, wide-eyed.

  “It is the most essential tool of any Starbounder,” his dad said.

  Zachary had seen Jacob’s glove many times before, but he knew from an early age that their use was not permitted anywhere on Earth besides Indigo 8. He reached in and gripped the ball tight, instantly feeling the warm light against his skin and the cool metal on his fingertips.

  “It belonged to your grandfather,” Zachary’s dad added. “That’s the glove he was wielding during the Battle of Siarnaq. Under his command, a small Starbounder battalion defeated over a thousand Clipsians.”

  “But it’s been resynched to your genome code,” Zachary’s mom said, interrupting a story Zachary had heard often. “Only your hand will be able to use it now.”

  “Squeeze it with your thumb and pinkie,” his dad instructed.

  As Zachary tightened his grip, the sphere split apart. A metal band extended out from the ball and snapped around his wrist like a handcuff. The metal continued to stretch across Zachary’s skin, enveloping everything from the tips of his fingers all the way to his forearm. He could feel the gelatinous substance inside rippling around his wrist and hand. For a moment he imagined that it was his grandfather gripping his arm.

  “How exactly does a warp glove work?” he asked.

  “I don’t pretend to understand the science of it, but basically it rips holes in the fabric of space itself,” his dad said, taking a seat on the bench. “It’s as if the universe we know is a bedsheet with wrinkles and folds. And instead of following along the surface of the sheet from one end to the other, it’s like taking a shortcut through the folds.”

  Zachary continued to gaze at his right forearm, encased in the green-and-silver metallic glove. The slick exterior of the strange glove made it look stiff, but in fact it was just the opposite. He had full movement of his wrist and all of his fingers. There were pea-sized holes on each fingertip, and when he peered inside one he could see stars whirling and galaxies forming. It was almost as if the tiny hole was a window into the cosmos.

  Zachary lifted his arm into the air and moved it about, up and down, left to right. He couldn’t believe how flexible the glove was.

  “Careful where you point that thing,” Zachary’s mom said. “You don’t want to accidentally cause a black hole and swallow up everything within thirty miles.”

  “To take it off, just twist the sensor to the right,” his dad said.

  Zachary found the small silver button near his wrist and deactivated the glove. Before putting it back in the box, he held the orb in his hand and was struck by how heavy it was. He wasn’t sure if the weight was from the metal itself or from the expectations that came with it.

  About an hour later the car rolled over a small bridge and passed a sign that read PINE LAKE ACADEMY. Through the woods, Zachary spotted a shimmering lake and ivy-covered brick dormitories. His mom drove past the quad, where some students were in the middle of a Frisbee game and others were reading beneath shady trees.

  “This is Indigo 8?” Zachary said.

  “No, this is just the cover,” his mom replied as a girl dressed in a uniform crossed the road directly in front of their car.

  “Mom, look out!” Zachary cried.

  But his mom didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down. Instead, she smashed right through the girl.

  Zachary did a one-eighty and looked out the back window to see the girl continue on her way.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  “Those aren’t real students,” his mom said. “They’re called doppelforms. Holographic simulations of kids.”

  “Over a thousand laser projectors have been carefully placed around Pine Lake, mounted in trees and on rooftops,” Zachary’s dad explained. “They’re able to holographically display students all over the campus. Employing an algorithm based on each individual’s body mass index, bone density, and unique brain composition, Indigo 8’s mainframe calculates how the doppelforms will interact within randomly generated lifelike scenarios.”

  “So what you’re saying is that it’s a real-life Sims,” Zachary said. “You guys never told me about a cover.”

  “There’s a lot we haven’t told you,” Zachary’s dad said.

  His mom drove past the science buildings, past the athletic field, and deeper into the woods, until the road came to a dead end at a mountain wall. She rolled down her window, and a trio of what looked like dragonflies buzzed inside the car. As one flew close to his face, Zachary could see that it was a robot, with thin thermoplastic wings, microscopic circuits running down its back, and a syringe-like tail. It landed on Zachary’s neck, and he could feel a sharp metal needle graze against his skin, searching until it found a vein. Then there was a quick jab as the needle pierced his flesh. He was about to smack the dragonfly with his hand when it took to the air, its slender tail now filled with drops of his blood. Having taken samples from Zachary, his mom, and his dad, the three dragonfly inspectors flew back out the window, and a tunnel through the mountain wall was revealed. Zachary’s mom began to drive once more. A short distance later, the car emerged from the tunnel into a crater-shaped valley.

  Ahead, Zachary could make out a lake and trees, but instead of brick buildings there were honeycomb-shaped structures lining the water. Their sides were covered in reflective solar paneling that glinted in the sun.

  Farther away was a four-story tower that was narrow at the bottom but got wider as it rose up into the sky. Its top level rotated slowly. Standing majestically above it all was a clear cube. Cupping his hands into a telescope, Zachary peered inside. Staircases and ladders were leading up, down, and across in a way that started making him dizzy.

  This was the real Indigo 8.

  On their way to the bottom of the valley, they passed a football-field-sized archery range. Aerial targets were being launched into the sky, and Starbounders-in-training were shooting at them with bows loaded with what looked like beams of light.

  “Look,” Zachary’s dad said excitedly. “The old starchery range. I was a pretty good shot in my day.”

  Zachary was still trying to take it all in, when his mom reached the parking lot. Across the pavement was a low, wide building with a reflecting pool out front. At the pool’s center was a fountain in the shape of a figure eight spouting liquid metal that looked like silver—or mercury from an antique thermometer. Two empty buses were already parked in the lot, and resident advisors stood with tablets directing the new trainees to their sleeping quarters.

  Now that it was time for Zachary to join them, his feet felt heavy.

  His dad walked around to the trunk and pulled out Zachary’s duffel bag, while his mom rumm
aged through her purse and looked under the passenger seat.

  Zachary glanced up at the clear cube structure he had spotted during their descent into the valley. Now he could clearly see kids floating inside, as if gravity had no effect on them. Some were gliding headfirst down from the top to the bottom; others were somersaulting diagonally upward. Two teenagers were sparring on an upside-down staircase with flexible combat sticks. Others were playing some sort of midair game of handball on the ladders, slapping a green, spongy sphere off the ceiling at blur-inducing speeds.

  Zachary’s dad set the bag down with a thump.

  “Toothpaste,” Zachary’s mom said, bursting out of the car. “I forgot to pack it.”

  “That’s why they have vending machines,” his dad said, placing a gentle hand on his mom’s shoulder. “Why don’t we let Zachary take it from here?”

  “We’ll help him get settled,” his mom said. “I can put the sheets on his sleeping pod.”

  “He’s a Night, sweetheart. He’ll manage.”

  Zachary’s mom nodded.

  Zachary reached down for his bag, but it wasn’t there. He turned to see that it was already being lifted by the mechanical tendrils of something that looked like a hovering jellyfish. Depositing the bag into its transparent belly, the automated porter zipped off down the hill.

  “Did that robot just steal my duffel bag?”

  Zachary’s dad let out a laugh. But his mom had a serious expression on her face. She walked over and gave Zachary a hug.

  “Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  “I promise,” Zachary said, feeling his mom gripping him tighter than usual before she finally let go and stepped back. As she did, a female resident advisor in a tank top approached Zachary with tablet in hand.

  “First year here?” she asked.

  “Is it that obvious?” Zachary replied, looking at the galaxy of stars tattooed on her arm.

  The resident advisor smiled. “Just step on the pathway, and Cerebella will guide you to your SQ.”

  Now Zachary noticed the black glass sidewalks that stretched out from the parking lot and wound their way all through the campus, snaking around the well-manicured lawns.