If you’re new to the series or want to catch up and remind yourself where we left off, the previous series is here:Space Cadets Series 1
How the last series ended:
‘Fascinating,’ observes Spock. He puts the tricorder down. ‘Let me try something, Captain.’
Spock reaches across the console. He presses three keys, one after the other: Ctrl-Ale-Delete. Everything goes black.
What next for our gallant Space Cadets? Tune in on Friday!
Alys was studying the store guide at the entrance to the Magical Mall of All, where she and her diminutive dragon had just arrived by doormat. It was incredibly busy and Alys, as a first time visitor, was finding it hard to get her bearings.
‘Wow! This is massive!’ exclaimed Sparky through a shower of excited purple sparks, as he flew to the top of the lofty atrium and stared about. He returned to Alys’s shoulder. ‘Second floor, World of Wands.’
The wand-maker, who was leaning on the old-fashioned shop counter reading a hefty tome, smiled as they entered. Behind him were row upon row of little wooden drawers, each labelled in a neat cursive script. All the ingredients for wand-making! It was all Sparky could do to restrain himself from flying over and taking a look.
Alys placed her damaged wand on the counter. Under the stress of performing FBB Agent Mickey’s transformation, the poor thing had unraveled at the tip, revealing its shiny unicorn hair core. Alys was well aware of the dire consequences of using a damaged wand so they’d hastened to the biggest mall in the magical world to find his famous shop.
The wand-maker blew out his cheeks as he examined Alys’s wand. ‘What’s happened here then?’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Looks like you over-loaded it with a particularly high-grade spell.’
Sparky puffed a plume of concerned crimson smoke across the counter. Alys hesitated. Mickey had sworn them to secrecy.
‘Top secret, was it?’ the wand-maker, touching the side of his nose.
‘Something like that,’ agreed Alys.
‘You sure you don’t want a new wand? More powerful, with a double core, perhaps?
Alys shook her head. ‘She’s like an old friend,’ replied Alys running a gentle finger down the wand. ‘I’d rather have her mended if that’s possible.’
The wand-maker squinted at the damaged end. ‘She’ll need restringing and the point needs a meld-weld but I can have her as good as new within the hour.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Two hundred witch-gilders to you, my dear.’
Alys let out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’
At that moment, shop door opened. Alys turned around to see Agatha of Agador’s big beaming, green-tinged face. ‘I thought it was you, Alys.’ Agatha grinned as she entered. ‘Come and help me choose a new set of dress robes.’
Alys grinned back but Sparky face fell. The wand-maker caught his expression. ‘If you’d rather leave the ladies to it, there’s a very interesting book store just around the corner.’
Sparky looked at Alys, a trickle of hopeful steam dribbling from his snout.
‘Of course, Sparky!’ Alys said eagerly. In truth, Alys would rather visit the book store too, but Agatha was her best customer.
The wand-maker waved them off, grinning to himself as the older witch took Alys’s arm and propelled her along the walkway with the tiny dragon rapidly flapping his little purple wings behind them.
Sparky hovered in front of the brightly-painted sign. ‘A Wizard of a Welcome to the Biggest Book Store’, it sang as he entered.
The diminutive dragon’s jaw dropped. He had never seen so many books. Everywhere he flew there were rooms, all packed with books. Potions and poultices, charms and curses, transport and transformation, fight and flight, and finally, a massive, towering room containing works on mystical and mythical creatures, with a whole wall devoted to dragons.
Sparky was in his element. He decided to start with the dragon wall.
Sparky looked around. The other customers were all busy browsing
‘Psst! Sparky! Up here.’
Sparky looked up. A pair of brown whiskers twitched between two large, leather-bound tomes. It was a small brown mouse with unusual, bright yellow eyes.
‘Mickey?’ Sparky let out a shower of surprised sparks. ‘Mickey from the FBB?’ One of the other customers muttered and glared over at him.
‘Not so loud,’ hissed Mickey through the side of his mouth. ‘Remember, I’m deep undercover.’
Sparky raised his eyebrows. ‘In here?’
‘Listen, kid,’ whispered Mickey confidentially. ‘We’ve had a tip off.’
Sparky’s eyes widened.
Mickey’s whiskers twitched for a moment. ‘Maybe you can help.’
Sparky nodded eagerly, his golden eyes shining.
Meanwhile Alys and Agatha had traipsed around a plethora of fancy robe shops and engaged a myriad of anxious assistants as Agatha tried on her umpteenth combination of gown, jacket and pointy hat. Alys smiled at each selection, wondering if Agatha would ever make up her mind, but finally she did. A voluminous set of royal-blue robes and a tall sage-green hat. She’d also insisted on buying Alys a pretty purple cashmere shawl. Alys was delighted.
The two witches bustled back towards the book store. As they approached they heard angry shouts and running footsteps. Something was clearly amiss.
A man, dressed in a tightly buckled raincoat with a felt hat pulled down over his ears, came running around the corner. Agatha stepped in front of Alys and whipped out her wand. The man wheeled around and headed back the way he’d come.
‘Come on, Alys, that’s Shylock the Spiv. Nasty piece of work!’ Agatha marched onwards with a determined expression on her face, Alys hurrying worriedly in her wake.
There was a small explosion and the shouting ahead intensified. As they rounded the corner, a huge plume of purple smoke filled the air.
As the smoke cleared Alys saw that Shylock the Spiv was face down on the floor clutching his hat. A burly security elf stood over him with Sparky perched on his shoulder. Sparky grinned and waved a proud purple paw in Alys’s direction.
Once all the excitement had died down and Shylock the Spiv had been taken away in wand-cuffs, Alys and Sparky returned to the wand-maker’s shop. Alys took out her purse, but the wand-maker shook his head. ‘On the house,’ he said, handing her the mended wand and looking at Sparky. ‘Your little dragon catching Shylock the Spiv like that? It’s the least I can do.’
‘What actually did happen,’ asked Alys, as she headed for the exit with Sparky on her shoulder.
Sparky giggled in her ear. ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’
Captain Kirk holds up his hands. “So let me get this straight,” he looks at each of us in turn. “You imagine something and then it just happens?”
“Yes sir.” I can hardly believe I’m speaking to Captain James T. Kirk. “Apparently the ship is powered by our minds and guided by our imaginations.”
Spock raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“Well, that’s what the Zyborgatron said.”
“The Zybogatron?” Kirk frowns and turns to Spock who is scanning the console with his tricorder. “Anything, Spock?”
“Negative, Captain.” He tweaks the instrument again.
“The longer we stay, the more likely something else bad is going to happen again,” I say nervously. “That Klingon and the Professor…” I glance at Harris and Stevens.
The screen on the console flickers into life. The Doctor’s face appears. “Jemma! Are you still on that ship?” He knocks on the screen. “Get off at once!” We see him peer at the screen, head on one side. “Well I never, is that Captain Kirk?”
“No, just the Doctor; but never mind that now. The ship you are on is dangerous, Captain Kirk! You need to evacuate. Destroy it if you…”
The screen goes blank.
Kirk’s communicator chirps. “Go ahead, Scotty.”
“Sir, we have a problem… It’s the Klingon. He’s standing right behind me with a weapon in his hand. It seems he wants that ship you’re on.”
“Fascinating,” observes Spock. He puts the tricorder down. “Let me try something, Captain.” Spock reaches across the console to the keyboard the boys were using to play Space Invaders. He presses three keys, one after the other: Ctrl-Alt-Delete.
Everything goes black.
This has been the last in the present series of Space Cadets, leaving you, in fine tradition, with more questions than answers.
Fear not, Space Cadets will return! And, of course, we will be bringing you a Christmas Special – there has to be one, doesn’t there?
Meanwhile, the script writers and production team will be busy with some other projects. Stay tuned!
The Klingon waves his disruptor, gesturing for us to move away from the console.
“Mr. Kurn will take over from you now, Cadets,” the Professor says. She speaks in a flat tone, almost mechanically. Something’s definitely wrong.
The Klingon grunts something as he walks over us, his weapon is pointing directly at my chest. The Professor tries to say something, but suddenly she cries out and clutches at her left ear, wincing in pain. What’s going on?
We edge away from the console as a burst of static erupts from the speaker. A conversation is going on outside the ship.
“…Spock will give you the coordinates, Scotty… energize!”
Five new figures appear on the deck. It’s Captain Kirk and his crew.
“Hold it right there. All of you!” orders Kirk. The two red shirts close in, brandishing their phasers. One of them points his weapon at us. I glance at Stevens and Harris as slowly we raise our hands. Hold on, you’re supposed to be on our side!
The Klingon attempts to fire, but the disruptor jams. The red shirts rush to grab him just as the Professor collapses on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Dr. McCoy hurries to her side and whips out his medical tricorder. He waves it across her head and frowns.
“I need to get her straight to sick bay, Jim,” says the doctor. “It’s one of those damn mind-controlling worms of theirs!” He glares at the Klingon.
Kirk nods. “Okay, Bones,” he flips open his communicator. “Scotty, lock onto the doctor and his patient, and the security detail plus one prisoner.” He glances at the two red shirts. “Take the Klingon straight to the brig and make sure he stays there.”
Moments later they dematerialize, leaving Kirk and Spock alone on the deck with us. Kirk gestures to us to lower our hands.
Spock looks at Kirk and raises a quizzical eyebrow. Kirk turns to us.
“You kids have got some explaining to do.”
Will Bones manage to save the Professor from the mind-worm? What if he fails?
What was that Klingon up to? and what questions does Captain Kirk have for the cadets? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
“Yeah Jem, this one’s down to you,” Harris glares at me accusingly.
Stevens sighs loudly. “Can’t you just un-imagine the Klingon?”
“Or at least get him to drop his gun?” Harris chimes in.
I try to visualize the Klingon vanishing but nothing happens.
“What’s the Professor saying?” Stevens points at the viewing screen. We all peer at her face. She’s looking straight at us and she’s mouthing something.
The Klingon’s mouth begins to move as well. He seems to be shouting. Don’t they always shout?
Then they both disappear in an explosion of starry sparkles like they’ve dematerialized. But to where?
“What did you do Jemma?”
What did I do?
I’m still shaking my head in disbelief when more starry sparkles appear on the screen in front of us. The Professor reappears flanked by Captain James T. Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy and a couple of red-shirts. I sense that something bad is about to happen.
The Professor looks confused. She points straight at us, then shakes her head. Mr. Spock consults his tricorder and raises a puzzled eyebrow. They all fan out, although apart from the Professor’s Special Space Machine there is little to see in this plain and featureless landscape. The Professor continues walking towards us, a hand stretched out in front of her.
“Why can’t they see us?” Harris asks.
Stevens prods the buttons on the console randomly. “Open voice communication!” he commands. We hear a popping noise. Stevens looks at each of us.
We shout in unison. “Professor! Professor!”
Something registers on her face; she turns around to look at the members of the Enterprise crew who, phasers at the ready, are still scanning the empty landscape.
Something’s wrongbut I can’t work out what.
“Professor!” Harris yells, banging on the screen which flickers and goes dead.
“No need to shout.”
We spin around. The Professor is standing in a doorway at the back of the deck which I hadn’t noticed before. She walks forward and smiles. “Hello, Space Cadets!”
The Klingon appears and stands next to her.
Slowly he raises his disruptor and points it at us.
Who’s side is the Professor actually on? What does the Klingon want? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
At last the shooting stops and the Doctor and I see the boys high five each other. Harris is busy with a keyboard. Over his shoulder I see him type: DS&HH and their score.
“Doctor, they’ve won!”
The Doctor squints at the screen. “Golly, 267984!”
“That’s the highest score in the known universe!”
“Clever,” the Doctor replies.
“The boys are always playing those ancient arcade games.”
“No me.” The Doctor examines his finger nails. “I’m clever.” The central column on the Tardis’ console makes a huffing noise. “Okay. The Tardis and I are clever.” He taps on the screen. “Look out there, Jenna.”
A view of the surface of a planet comes into view… and there’s the Professor’s Special Space Machine.
“I…” he eyes the column, “….we simply reset the time-stream to bring you back to square one, as it were. All the three of you need to do now is get off the Zyborgatron’s ship before any of you imagines anything else. Come on,” he strides towards the door.
“And the number I was waiting to see before I hit the green button, that wasn’t a stardate time, was it?”
“Oh that? That was a random number, a red herring; just something to keep your mind occupied, to stop you imagining something which would interfere with the Tardis’ navigation systems.” He touches his finger to his nose. “Clever, eh?”
I frown. “I thought I’d been doing something important.”
“Sometimes NOT doing something is equally important.” He opens the Tardis’ door. “Now, come along, Jenna. Let’s get you off the ship before anything else happens.”
Harris and Stevens are still celebrating.
“Did you see that?” says Stevens.
“Indeed we did. Well done, chaps!” The Doctor claps them both on the back.
I’m feeling slightly miffed. They brought on the Space Invaders attack, even if they did achieve a mega-score to defeat them.
“Right then,” says the Doctor, clapping his hands together. “Off you all pop.” He waves us in the direction of the ship’s door. “And I hope NOT to see you again!” He touches his hand to his head in salute, spins on his heel and bounds back into the Tardis.
I glance at the viewing screen as the Tardis takes off. “Look guys. It’s the Professor!”
We watch as she emerges from her Special Space Machine. Slowly she raises her hands in the air. Another figure appears behind her.
“That’s a Klingon, isn’t it?” says Harris.
The swarthy humanoid jabs his disruptor into the small of the Professor’s back.
My heart sinks.
Where did that Klingon come from? Are there more? Can the Cadets save the Professor? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
“Come on, old girl!” shouts the Doctor smacking the side of the central column of the Tardis’ console which is emitting an unpleasant screeching sound as it rises and falls.
“Is everything all right? Doctor,” I yell over the noise, gripping the edge of the console to steady myself as the Tardis bucks and pitches.
“Um, yes, just needs a minor correction.” He frowns at the column and flicks a couple of switches. The Tardis comes to an abrupt halt and all is quiet “Come on, let’s see what’s happening outside.” He motions me to stand beside him, then with a flourish he taps a button on the console. A large viewing screen flashes up on the other side of the control room.
The screen is blank.
“Ah,” he says tapping on the button repeatedly. Nothing happens. The screen is still blank.
The Doctor rushes over to the doors and flings then open.
All is black.
I follow him and peer out. “Oh,” I say. There is literally nothing there. I turn to the Doctor who is rubbing his jaw. “Where’s space gone?”
“That, Jemma, is space.” He leans out of the doors looking up and down. “Space. Nothing else.”
“But the stars and…”
“I better check the coordinates,” he says over his shoulder as he runs back to the console. “Close the doors won’t you?”
I pull the doors closed. My heart thumps. “What’s happened to Harris and Stevens? Are they all right?”
“I certainly hope so.” He pulls out his sonic screwdriver and disappears under the console.
The viewing screen flickers into life showing a view of my two shipmates sitting just where I’d left them on our spacecraft. Both have expressions of extreme concentration on their faces. In the background I can see what they’re staring at. I blink in surprise.
They’re playing the ancient arcade game ‘Space Invaders’!
The Doctor reappears from beneath the console. “That should do it. We should be able to see them now.” He glances at the screen as the Tardis shudders under a sudden impact.
“No, NO,NO, NO!” he shouts.
I turn to him, not understanding what’s happening. The Tardis shudders again; sparks fly from the console. The Doctor points at the bottom of the screen the boys are staring at. “They’re firing at us!”
We watch as the little white aliens descend towards the Tardis.
The boys are firing back.
“No Doctor, they’re defending us.”
Or at least they’re trying to…
Will the Harris and Stevens beat the aliens? Can the Tardis escape from the game? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
“That’s a black hole!” I stare in horror at the viewing screen. “How close is it?”
[FIVE MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
The red light starts to flash.
“Your doctor friend,” cries Stevens. “Call him!”
I close my eyes and visualize the Tardis. Nothing happens. I empty my mind then start to picture every detail I can remember of the familiar blue box. To my relief I hear its arrival over the shrill wail of the siren. I open my eyes to see Tardis materialize. The door opens. It’s the Matt Smith version of the Doctor.
“Ah,” he says, “spot of bother?” He bounds over to the screen. “Oh, I should say so!” He looks round at us.
“Can you help us, Doctor?” I stare up at him.
[FOUR MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Let me think,” he says, tapping his sonic screwdriver absently against the side of his head. He starts to pace about.
Suddenly he whirls around to face us. “Okay. I’m going to tether your ship to the Tardis, then we’re going to travel back in time to before that thing formed.” He points at the screen.
“But it’ll be a supernova, won’t it?” shouts Stevens.
“Good point.” The Doctor waves his sonic screwdriver at Stevens. “Back to before the star goes supernova.” He taps his head again. “I’ll just need to make a couple of calculations.”
[THREE MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Who’s good at maths?”
The boys look at me. “Jemma!”
“Okay, Jemma,” he nods. “Come with me.”
The interior of the Tardis looks exactly as I thought it would. The Doctor runs around the control console flicking switches and turning dials. He hums to himself as he works.
Grabbing my hand he takes me to the other side of the console. “Watch this screen,” he indicates a monitor with seemingly random numbers flashing up on it. “When it reaches 367.984, hit that green button.” He points to the button. “Don’t take your eyes off that screen; we only have one chance at this!” He rushes over to the door and pokes his head out.
[TWO MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Remember, chaps. You must believe this will work. Concentrate on nothing else!” I glance up and see him touch his hand to the side of his head in salute.
He shuts the door and returns to the console. “The monitor, Jemma. Concentrate!” I hear him flick some more switches
I stare at the screen. The numbers continue to change. I concentrate, willing 367.984 to appear.
“What’s that noise?” yells Stevens over the resonating sound.
“Sounds like the Tardis.” I reply, still wondering what happened to the Borg Cube which a moment ago had been poised to assimilate our space craft.
“It’s the doctor.” I say confidently. “That’s who I just thought of. You know how it works.”
“Doctor who?” the boys turn to be, puzzled expressions on their faces.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, that’s right. Doctor Who. From the British TV series. You know, late 20th, early 21st century? Goes around space and time saving people.” I raise my eyebrows. “Like he might be able to get us out of this mess..?”
They shake their heads. Then their eyes slide past me, widening. I spin around in my chair to see the familiar blue box start to materialize. Relieved, I try to jump up from my seat, but the safety belt restrains me.
Suddenly the ship is rocked by a huge explosion. Over my shoulder the viewing screen flashes on, showing a ball of flames and massive pieces of dark black debris scattering across the void.
“Gotcha!” cries Harris, punching the air.
“Way to go!” cheers Stevens, leaning across the console to give Harris a high five.
So that’s what’s happened to the Cube. “How did you do that?” I ask.
“Hit the red button,” Harris indicates the joystick in front of him.
I turn back to see the Tardis start to fade. “Come back, Doctor!” I cry. “We need your help!”
“We don’t need help from some old doctor. We’re fine,” says Harris smugly. “I just blew up The Borg.”
“Er, I’d not be so sure,” says Stevens pointing at the viewing screen.
How will the Cadets escape from the Black Hole? And who imagined that??
Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
The music fades out as we leave the planet’s atmosphere. The viewing screen blinks.
[STARDATE: 2607.7 – DESTINATION: SECOND STAR ON THE RIGHT]
The letters dissolve. The screen is filled with huge rocks, hurtling towards us.
“Asteroids!” yells Stevens.
The warning siren starts to wail and the red light flashes.
“Does this thing have shields?” I wonder out loud.
A medium-sized asteroid glances off the screen; the ship slews. Only our seat straps save us from being thrown to the floor.
“How do we steer?” shouts Harris.
A joystick, with a large red button on the top, sprouts from the console in front of him. He grabs hold and his eyes fix on the screen. His tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth; his gaming face. The control is hyper-responsive. Harris dodges nimbly through the asteroid belt, blowing rocks to smithereens with a dab of his thumb.
Then we’re through. The asteroids are behind us and all we can see is the inky blackness of space, peppered with bright pinpricks of light which are the stars.
All is quiet. We sit back and admire the view. My thoughts wander.
A huge black cube appears on the left of the screen. It glitters menacingly.
[You will be assimilated]
Stevens peers at the screen. “The Borg Cube!”
The ship is being pulled towards the vast angular vessel. Sirens wail, warning lights flash.
“But that’s not real!” Harris protests as he wrestles desperately with the joystick.
The ship judders ominously.
[Resistance is useless]
Stevens turns to me. “Hold on. Remember what the Zyborgatron said?”
I think for a moment. “Something about the ship being ‘guided by your imaginations.’ “
“Okay, who imagined The Borg?” Harris growls.
“Never mind who’s responsible. Just think of something else; something friendly!” I yell. “Hurry!”
The Borg Cube fills the screen. Harris jabs the red button repeatedly.