Frozen Enemies Read Free Page A

John had to admit that Mordant was as talented at flying as he was at everything else, apart from making friends. As he waited for his own turn, John wondered if that was the reason why Mordant’s parents had given him G-Vez. No one except the Serv-U-Droid was ever willing to spend more than a few minutes with the half-Gargon.
    “Riley. Go.”
    John’s fingertips trembled on the touchpads. Keeping his voice as calm as possible, he said, “Computer, disengage docking locks, start engines, and display speed.”
    “Affirmative. Ready to launch, John Riley.” A large digit of zero appeared in the shell to the left of John’s vision.
    Following Jegger’s advice, and still biting hard on his bottom lip, John moved the index finger of his right hand. The ship rocked backward so that John was looking up to where the other two Privateers were already circling the hangar. He moved his left index finger, and the ship rose into the air. The number zero flickered until it reached thirty-five. John eased off on the speed button.
    It wasn’t perfect – his trembling fingers meant the Privateer’s take-off was less smooth than Emmie’s – but a few seconds later his ship joined the other airborne Privateers.
    “Not completely awful,” said Jegger. “San-Art. Go.”
    Once every ship was zooming around the ceiling of the hangar, the sergeant began giving instructions for manoeuvres. Before long, the egg-shaped ships were swooping around the hangar as the students’ confidence increased. Jegger kept up a constant stream of comments: “Werril, you can go a little faster than that, cadet. What are you: a little old Wussian with some heavy shopping? Temerate, make your ship lean into the turns. Talliver, stop showing off !”
    The last comment had barely registered, when Mordant’s Privateer suddenly sped dangerously close to John’s. Mordant’s face leered at John for a moment, then his ship accelerated away to the far end of the hangar. Shaken, John’s fingers slipped on the touchpad, sending his own Privateer spiralling off wildly.
    Seething with anger, John brought his ship back under control. For a second he caught himself wishing the Privateer had weapons that he could use to shoot down the half-Gargon. Fighting down the urge to give chase, and cursing under his breath, John returned to flying up and down the hangar, concentrating instead on getting used to the Privateer’s controls.
    “Lishtig ar Steero!” Jegger shouted. “Why are you flying upside down? For goodness’ sake, boy, stop. That’s good – now use the right-hand control pad... the right... to flip. No, not all the way round, now you’re upside down again—”
    As Jegger tried to right Lishtig’s ship, John executed a neat turn and zoomed off down the hangar again. He frowned. Mordant Talliver was once again heading directly towards him. John touched the control pad to swerve away. His mouth fell open as the Talliver’s ship mirrored the move. With Jegger’s attention elsewhere, Mordant was playing chicken with him.
    Desperately, John moved his fingers on the unfamiliar control pads, trying to get out of the way. His Privateer turned, skimming centimetres past Mordant’s ship just in time to avoid a crash. From the corner of his eye, John saw Mordant grinning and making a rude gesture with his tentacles. Suddenly, Emmie’s ship was right in front of his own. Mordant had forced him to fly straight into her!
    For a split second, John saw Emmie staring at him, mouth moving in a shout of warning, eyes wide in shock.
    “Riley. Riley . What in Trud’s name are you doing?” yelled Jegger, as John’s ship smashed into Emmie’s, then tumbled towards the deck.
    Emmie recovered quickly; her ship flew off unharmed. John struggled to regain control, but the fall was too quick. His ship smacked into the deck like a dropped stone, bounced, and rolled into a corner of the hangar. Although the Privateer’s seat and safety harness softened the landing,