The only thing more stressful than an excursion to a museum planet with Year Threes? Starting the day with thirty galactic cherubs and hitting recess with only twenty-nine. But a guy couldn’t monitor every student at every second, even in 2390.

Ugh. Bring on holidays.

The system’s synthetically-restored sun warmed the grass under our feet at Old Earth’s entrance lawn. I stroked my dark brown beard and adjusted my glasses to thermal imaging. Two tall, red figures stood across the other side of the class—our Specimen Support Officers, or SSOs, counting and recounting student numbers. We still had twenty-nine. I wondered if my misplaced student had fiddled with tech they shouldn’t have, like Mrs. Farzon’s Year Eights last week. Ballooned the size of planetoids, they had. I’d almost booked an excursion to see them.

My heart skipped a beat as the likelihood grew that a student was actually missing. Then I saw it: the red haze of a figure fifteen feet upside-down in a palm tree. I didn’t need to switch off my glasses to guess the culprit.

“Ferrix! Get down!”

Just Ferrix again, thank goodness. I thought we might have lost little Havannoa Saint. Of the two most powerful corporations in the galaxy, the Corporate Housing Trust and the Saint Bank Syndicate, ‘daddy’ was president of the latter.

I switched off thermals. Sure enough, Ferrix disengaged the fixed-point device he’d used to lock himself to the tree. The SSOs sighed in relief. Back to a full house. So long as you counted eighteen humanoids, three squid, a half humanoid-half squid, four reptiles, three bears and a sentient ice cube as a full house.

“Alright class,” I said. “Listen up while you finish injecting your recess. I know you’re excited to see your first whole planet museum and it’s—Kenzee, put that down¬!—been a long teleport here, but remember to take notes for your upcoming assignment. And listen to your guide. There’s lots to see today.”

“Yeah, and it’s all boring,” said a little voice.

“Try to stay positive, Ferrix. You can digitize your packs now, everyone.”

Havannoa bashed her pack repeatedly against her tech belt. “Mr. Stewhorn, mine won’t clip on.” Her frown evolved to outrage. She persisted with the bashing.

“Is that fixing the problem?” I asked.

“No. Why won’t it work!”

I let her frustration hang. The lesson was more important than the solution. “Try doing it the way I specifically told you a second ago. Digitize it.”

She tapped a button on her wrist monitor. The pack shrunk. It now fit. Amazing.

Our planetary guide warped in beside me, her mustard shirt evoking a daffodil aroma. She carried more excitement in her gray eyes than half my class combined. At least she wasn’t a bot, like the one from our last excursion.

“Welcome, class. I am Guide Yakka,” she said, smiling. She indicated the environment around them with her hand. “And this is Old Earth, jewel of the sector!”

Every planet was apparently jewel of some sector.

She went on. “Your MyWarps have already been pre-loaded with the appropriate site coordinates. First stop, the Under Land exhibit!”

My SSOs warped ahead of the class. I watched as students stood, twitched. One-by-one, their images flashed against my retina and they also warped away. Five, ten, fifteen …

The sentient ice cube, Gob, stared up at the tree where Ferrix had been. His thoughts matched his see-through viscosity. One unruly menace climbed something he wasn’t supposed to, and boom—five others wanted to try.

I hustled over, my broad shoulders towering above him. “Hey, Gob. Did you forget to turn your MyWarp on?”

“Were we supposed to?”

I breathed deeply through my nostrils and reminded myself he was only eight and over ninety percent Hydrogen Dioxide. “Yes, Gob. Please turn it on.”

“Okay.”

He warped away. Satisfied, I flicked on the device at my hip and waited for the slight freezing sensation, followed by a swift pull.

My molecules re-entered main state. A brown, barren landscape, charred by the sun’s ruining glare, replaced the green grass from before. It must have been fifty degrees Celsius. Students already fanned themselves. I counted them again, got twenty-nine.

Probably Ferrix mucking around.

“Here in Under Land,” Yakka began, “a large landmass situated in the planet’s southern region, the ancient inhabitants experienced many exciting trials. Serpentine creatures could bite you—and the ancients didn’t have Cureall or warp drives like we do!”

Several strange creatures with two powerful legs and thick tails leaped across the dry, dry ground before us. The musky scent from their hides drenched the air. “Ah, ha!” Yakka said. “Kangaroos! Amazing creatures. Ancient kids even rode them to school! Can you believe that?”

I didn’t believe that.

Three students yawned. Even I started daydreaming, as I pictured myself a pioneer on Old Earth. Muscles like mountains I’d have had, with a noble’s bravado. I’d have mapped out the first landmasses, risked a new world’s dangers single-handedly, just like the ancients. From my X3000 Starfighter’s cockpit, of course. Stewhorn the navigator. Stewhorn the planet’s beloved.

“Mifter Ftewhorn, my toof comed out!”

Some days I’d have settled for Stewhorn the elsewhere.

Our guide addressed us. “Let’s keep moving.”

Another headcount. Fourteen tentacles, three furry locks, seventeen humanoid frames, and … still twenty-nine.

“Ferrix, you’d better be here somewhere or so help me you’ve got a virtual compression tomorrow.”

“Here,” he said, leaning out from behind a bear. “Nowhere else to go.”

So, not Ferrix missing. Not Ferrix? I walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder to check he wasn’t a hologram. Not my first day in a classroom. But he was as solid as our ice cube, Gob. Who was missing?

I withdrew a metal box from my hip. It flipped open to triple in size, allowing me to ping the recorded roll. Almost all students were within proximity. One name flashed on my screen as ‘absent’: Havannoa Saint.

Sweat formed atop my brow as I read the name. I tucked the box back to my hip, tapped it furiously. I scanned the brown landscape. She was nowhere to be seen.

Think. Think.

Buddies. “Class, who is buddies with Havannoa today?”

A tiny paw raised into the air. “Thank you, Krill. Did you see her arrive at Under Land?”

The student shook her head.

“And you didn’t say anything? Why not?” I tensed my shoulders, exhaled.

Ferrix smirked. “Maybe a kangaroo took her.”

“Not helpful, Ferrix.”

Memories flooded my mind of the day Havannoa’s father, President Saint, had a parent accidentally exit from warp onto his polished diamond shoes at the school drop off zone. Simple device malfunction. Next day, the parent ended up with a rare job opportunity to study a black hole—from the inside. My veins turned to icy rivers just thinking about it. What would Saint do to me if I lost his daughter?

“Guide Yakka, a word.”

She pointed me toward the museum planet’s head offices. They would know more.