Space Plague by Zac Harrison Page B

controls are way more sensitive than a t-dart’s.”
    “I knew I should have insisted on flying.”
    John bit back a prickly response. “Which way?” he asked instead.
    “I’m plotting a course now,” Mordant replied in a businesslike tone. “Take a heading zero-eight-six-three-nine into the Omega Region. There are a few obstructions, but nothing serious and then I can give you an almost direct path. For the next few light years there’s nothing but clear black space, so you can kick up the speed.”
    “Got it,” replied John. With a glance at the astrometrics screen, he carefully pulled the Talios round onto a new course and powered up the hyperspace drive.
    “Uh-oh,” Mordant interrupted. “Looks like we’ve got company. Galactic Fleet.”
    “Let’s see if we can outrun them. Jumping to hyperspace on my mark. In three... two... one... mark .”
    “Oh... my... whoaaaah !” John yelped, as the Talios leapt forward like a missile. Any jump to hyperspace meant a huge surge of energy and speed, but Sergeant Jegger’s ship was beyond anything John had ever experienced. With a deep, throaty roar, the engines flung the Talios forward at a speed that pressed John back in the pilot’s seat, as he struggled to keep the control stick steady.
    “I have got to get my dad to buy me one of these,” Mordant murmured.
    Inside his helmet, John raised his eyebrows. Over the summer holidays John’s dad had bought him a new skateboard . And he made me do a load of weeding to get it , he thought to himself.
    The half-Gargon boy interrupted his thoughts. “Trouble: those ships jumped with us. They’re still on our tail.”
    Before he’d even finished speaking, the communications system crackled. “This is Captain Lassco of the Galactic Fleet,” a voice boomed in John’s ear. “Pilot of the Talios 720 out of Hyperspace High, identify yourself.”
    “Rats,” John muttered.
    “Repeat: ship out of Hyperspace High, identify yourself.”
    John flipped a switch to open the channel. “John Riley,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “A student from Hyperspace High. We’re just—”
    “All traffic to and from Hyperspace High is suspended by order of the Galactic Council,” interrupted Captain Lassco. “It’s a quarantine zone. Turn your ship around and return to Hyperspace High immediately, John Riley.”
    “Sorry, captain, no can do. We’re on our way to find a cure for Zhaldarian Flu.”
    “You do not have clearance for your mission. Turn your ship around.”
    John cut the communications. Turning to Mordant, he asked, “Can we outrun them?”
    Mordant shrugged. “They’re flying Blaze-Class Fighters. Very, very fast. They’ll match our speed. Plus, they’re Galactic Fleet-trained pilots.”
    Without hesitation, John flicked the communications switch again. “Negative, Captain Lassco,” he said. “We’re not turning around. We’re trying to save lives here.”
    “They’re almost on us,” said Mordant, panic creeping into his voice.
    “This is your last warning, John Riley,” said Lassco. “Turn your ship around and return to Hyperspace High, or I will be forced to open fire. The Galactic Council will not risk the flu spreading. Billions of lives are at stake.”
    “There’s no chance of infection. We’re going—”
    “Don’t tell them where we’re going,” hissed Mordant. ”We’ll never get rid of them.”
    “We’re not going anywhere near any inhabited planets,” John continued. “Call off your ships.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, John saw two streaks stream past the port side of the Talios – both steaks John recognized as X-11 missiles. In a massive burst, they exploded in front of the Talios.
    “That was a warning shot, John Riley. Turn your ship around.”
    John’s fingers swiftly moved across the power controls. “Sorry, Captain Lassco, I just can’t do that,” he said, as he pulled the Talios into an accelerating swoop away from the following