Science Fair

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “Well, then,” said Swingle to The Ferret, “tell me what it does.”

  But before The Ferret could totally humiliate himself, one of Swingle’s lackeys tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something into his ear. He, in turn, conferred quietly for a minute with The Hornet. She nodded grimly and turned to face the crowd.

  “Apparently,” she said, “the situation with the blackouts is becoming, ah, a bit more of a problem.”

  A man in the crowd, with a cell phone to his ear, said in a loud voice, “There’s rioting in Los Angeles.”

  “Miami, too,” said another voice. “And Cleveland.”

  The crowd was buzzing now.

  “Quiet, please!” shouted The Hornet. The crowd quieted, stunned; The Hornet never shouted.

  “We cannot have panic,” said The Hornet. “We will not have panic. Now Mr. Swingle has informed me that the president is going to address the nation about this situation, and I’m sure he will tell us what steps are being taken to bring everything under control. I’m going to ask everybody to move to the north end of the gymnasium, and I’m going to ask Coach Furman to bring a television monitor so we can watch the president’s address.”

  The crowd, buzzing again, began moving. Swingle grabbed his lackey by the arm and snapped, “Get me out of here. I don’t care how you do it, but get me out of here.” The lackey trotted off through the crowd, leaving Swingle, momentarily alone, standing by the ME kids’ projects. His eyes happened to fall on a thick cable running from one of the projects; he noticed the same type of cable running from another project, and another. For a moment he wondered about that. But then he decided it was not his concern.

  He started walking toward the end of the gym, having decided that, until his idiot staff could get him out of here, he would hear what the president had to say about what was causing these strange blackouts. He took a few steps. Then something made him stop, turn, and take another look at the ME projects. Something bothered him about them—the elaborate technology, the thick cable.…

  He stared at the projects for a few more seconds.

  Nah, he decided. Not my concern.

  He turned and started walking again.

  ROGER HARBINGER, JEDI KNIGHT, stood in the hallway, gripping his light saber with his right hand while using his left to pull up his Jedi pants. His eyes were fixed on the basement door.

  BAM CRACK CRACK CRACK

  The door was being splintered into kindling. It now had a big hole, through which Roger could see the legs of a chair. The men in the basement were breaking out.

  CRASH

  The last pieces of the door clattered into the hallway, followed by the chair. Roger, hardly breathing, gripped his light saber tighter and focused on the now-empty doorway. He felt a drop of sweat run down his forehead and sting his eye.

  He twitched as the Wookiee’s enormous hairy head appeared in the opening. The head swiveled and looked directly at Roger. Then the Wookie looked back over his shoulder and said, “He has a light saber.”

  From the stairwell, Roger heard a voice he knew well from hours spent in the tenth row of the movie theater—a deep voice taking loud hissing breaths between each phrase.

  “Step aside!” spoke the voice of Darth Vader. “I shall deal with him.”

  The Wookiee stepped aside. Roger heard the tromp of heavy bootsteps climbing the stairs. Finally, the gleaming plastic of the black-helmeted head appeared. Vaderian stepped into the hallway, adjusted his cape, and faced Roger.

  “So,” he said, “we meet at last.”

  He flicked the switch on his light saber. Nothing happened.

  “I said no more discount batteries!” Vaderian hissed at the Wookiee.

  “The batteries are good,” said the Wookiee. “Jiggle the switch.”

  Vaderian jiggled the switch, and the light saber came to life. Again Vaderian faced Roger.

  “So,” he said, raising his saber, “we meet at last.”

  “So we do,” said Roger, wishing he could come up with something more dramatic. He also wished his light saber lit up, but it was a real prop, and in Star Wars the glow was added as a special effect.

  Vaderian, waving his light saber, stepped forward. Roger stepped back. In moments they were in the living room, circling. The Wookiee stood in the hallway entrance, watching.

  Vaderian slashed his light saber toward Roger. Vaderian’s saber hummed as it sliced the air. The hum was digitally recorded and triggered by motion sensors in the handle of the light saber, which Vaderian had purchased on the Internet.

  Roger, still tugging at his pants with his left hand, dodged out of the way and thrust his saber at Vader. Vader blocked it with his own saber. The two sabers made a loud clunk as they hit each other. Each man winced, secretly afraid that his saber would break.

  Now they were circling again. The Wookiee was watching intently.

  Then all three heard it: “AIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!”

  The piercing shriek came from the end of the hallway. Roger and Vaderian turned to see what had caused it. The Wookiee started to turn, but before he got his head around, Fawn Harbinger had leaped on his back. She was wearing one of her Princess Leia costumes, specifically the metal bikini Leia wore when she was held captive by Jabba the Hutt.

  Fawn had considered wearing her white-robe costume, but she felt it would be too confining for fighting. Also, she was proud that she could still fit into the bikini.

  “LEAVE MY HUSBAND ALONE!” she shouted, pounding a fist on the Wookiee’s head.

  “Get off me, lady!” shouted the Wookiee. “OWW!” he added, as Fawn grabbed a handful of his thick hair and yanked on it. Her other arm was now wrapped around the Wookiee’s head, covering his eyes. Temporarily blinded and shouting in pain, he staggered, spinning, back to the hall, with Fawn still screeching and clinging to his back like a crazed bikini-clad monkey.

  “Fawn!” shouted Roger. He lunged after his wife but found his path blocked by Vaderian, breath hissing in his voice-changing box.

  “Get out of my way, Vader!” said Roger.

  “Make me, Jedi!” snarled Vaderian.

  Roger swung his light saber, but Vaderian was ready. With a quick and practiced move, he parried Roger’s blow and then struck one of his own, hitting Roger’s light saber just above his hand. Roger lost his grip; the light saber clattered across the living room.

  Roger was now unarmed. He stepped back as Vaderian swung at him, the humming blade just missing his face. He heard screeching and thumping from the hallway, but couldn’t see what was happening because of the advancing black-caped bulk of Vaderian.

  Roger looked to his left and saw his light saber on the floor, ten feet away. He took a step toward it, but Vaderian cut him off.

  “Why don’t you use the Force to get your light saber, Jedi?” said Vaderian. Then he chuckled a chuckle that he had been waiting his entire adult life to deliver.

  Roger looked at the light saber. He remembered the scene from The Empire Strikes Back when Luke, left hanging upside down by an ice creature on the Planet Hoth, stretches his hand out and summons the light saber to him.

  If only…

  Roger jerked his head away as the humming blade flashed past again. He took another step back; he was almost to the wall. In desperation, he reached his hand out toward his light saber. Vaderian chuckled. Roger could tell he had practiced chuckling. Another step back, and Roger felt the wall behind him. There was nowhere to go now. Vaderian drew back for a final blow.…

  And then Roger’s light saber moved. Roger gasped; Vaderian turned to look. Both men stared in astonishment as the light saber rose, traveled across the floor, and settled gently into Roger’s outstretched hand.

  “Here you go, Dad,” said Toby’s voice.

  Roger gripped the light saber with both hands, allowing his pants to fall to his knees. He swung the saber with all his strength. Vaderian raised his saber to block it.

  CLUNK

  Both men opened their eyes and saw that V
aderian’s light saber had shattered into pieces; the batteries—six C cells—were rolling across the floor. Vaderian held only the handle now. Roger drew his saber back, preparing to strike again. But Vaderian was already at the door, yanking it open and barging out, followed closely by the Wookiee, howling in pain and chased by Fawn, who was holding a clump of hair in each hand. As the Wookiee ran out the door, she stopped and shouted, “AND DON’T COME BACK, HAIRBALL!”

  As Vaderian and the Wookiee fled, they barely avoided barreling into Drmtsi, Vrsk, Tamara, and Micah. The four had been ordered by Toby to remain outside while he entered the house, invisible, through his bedroom window. They’d been standing on the front walkway, listening to the battle rage inside; now they jumped aside as Vaderian and the Wookiee barreled past.

  For a moment, all four of them could only stare at the two weird figures. It was Drmtsi who first found words, calling out in English as Vaderian and the Wookiee disappeared into the night: “May this Force is being with you!”

  PRMKT’S QUICK, ACCURATE FINGERS danced over the computer keyboard. His eyes were focused on the screen window displaying the status of a Hughes communications satellite. The satellite hosted several dozen network relays that fed ground-based cable systems.

  Prmkt intercepted a feed being relayed to the satellite from a location not far from Hubble. His fingers flashed for a few more seconds. The feed was now routed through his laptop, then back to the satellite for rebroadcast.

  He watched the window on his screen, which now displayed a test pattern. He checked his watch. Any second now…there.

  On the screen, the test pattern had been replaced by the image of a man sitting at a large desk, a pair of flags behind him. Prmkt studied the man’s face. He looked tired; Prmkt thought he detected a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

  Prmkt nodded. He enjoyed knowing that he was the cause of this man’s anxiety. And soon he would be the cause of more.

  Much more.

  TOBY HAD SPENT SEVERAL MINUTES talking very fast, trying to explain to his parents how he and his fellow prisoners had managed to (a) escape from federal custody, and (b) show up in the middle of a robbery with the Wienermobile and, by the way, an invisibility device. Toby had then tried to explain why they needed to get to the science fair right away, because of Sternabite’s warning that something very bad was going to happen.

  His parents were still stunned from their battle with Vaderian and the Wookiee and still wearing their Star Wars costumes. They did not want to go anywhere. They were more interested in explaining to Toby why—if he ever got out of prison—he was going to be grounded for the next, approximately, three thousand years.

  “But the science fair!” Toby cried. “We have to—”

  “If there’s a problem with the science fair,” interrupted Roger, “the police will handle it.”

  “But the police won’t handle it!” Toby shouted. “They don’t believe us. Nobody believes us. Please, we have to get to the school!”

  “No, Toby,” said Roger. “We’re not going to discuss—”

  He was interrupted by the sudden blare of the TV set, which Drmtsi had managed to turn on, hoping to find the shopping network. On the screen, in big letters, were the words BLACKOUT PANIC SPREADS. The announcer was saying: “…expecting the president to address the nation at any moment now about the rapidly deteriorating situation as city after city is descending into anarchy. We have still not received any hard information about what is causing these blackouts and communications disruptions, although as we said moments ago there has been a report—so far unsubstantiated—that whatever is causing this problem is originating from Maryland, possibly in the Washington, D.C., area. But again, we have no…”

  “Did you hear that?” said Toby. “It’s got to be the science fair!”

  “You don’t know that,” said Fawn. “It could just be a coincidence.”

  “No!” said Toby. “Sternabite said the ME kids had collected all this, like, top secret technology!”

  Roger and Fawn exchanged a look. Vrsk said something in Krpsht to Drmtsi.

  “Dad,” said Toby, “what if I’m right?”

  “That would be a first,” said Micah. “Ouch,” he added, when Tamara punched him.

  “Really, Dad,” said Toby, “what if I am right, and something terrible happens, and we didn’t try to stop it? Don’t you always tell me that no matter what, you have to try to do the right thing?”

  Roger exchanged a look with Fawn—Fawn, who had jumped on the Wookiee to save him; he turned back to Toby, took a breath, and exhaled.

  “All right,” he said.

  “We have to hurry!” said Toby, already at the door.

  They rode in the Wienermobile, because there wasn’t enough room for all of them in the Harbingers’ car. They took side streets in an effort to avoid the police. Vrsk drove, with Toby in the front passenger seat giving directions; the others were crowded into the back.

  “What exactly are we going to do when we get there?” asked Micah.

  “We’re going to find the ME kids’ projects,” said Toby.

  “And then what?” said Tamara.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Toby. “Unplug them?”

  “Good thing we have a plan,” said Tamara.

  “What’s that smell?” said Fawn, wrinkling her nose.

  “It’s some kind of cheese,” said Toby.

  “They keep it in their pants,” added Micah.

  “Their pants?” said Fawn.

  “It is traditional Krpshtskani cheese,” said Vrsk, who’d been following the discussion. “Also is for scaring wolfs. Is called smerk.”

  Hearing that word, Drmtsi, who was sitting next to Fawn and admiring the way she looked in her Star Wars bikini, reached into his pants and said, “Smerk?”

  “No!” said Fawn, recoiling.

  “UH-oh,” said Toby.

  “What?” said Roger.

  Toby pointed at the sideview mirror. “Police!”

  They heard the whoop of a siren.

  “He wants us to pull over,” said Toby.

  WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP

  “So,” said Micah, “are we gonna pull over?”

  “We’re almost to the school,” said Toby, looking out the window. He turned to Vrsk and said, “Can this hot dog go any faster?”

  “We will find out,” said Vrsk, as he stomped on the accelerator.

  SWINGLE LOOKED AROUND the crowded gym, seeing anxiety on the faces of the people waiting for the president to speak. Swingle hated this situation—hated waiting, hated crowds, hated the feeling of not being in control. He made up his mind. He wasn’t staying here with these losers.

  He was getting out.

  He slipped away from his lackeys and, keeping his face down, pushed through the crowd to the exit. He strode quickly across the ball field to the TranScent helicopter sitting in the darkness. He yanked open the door, startling the pilot, a young man named Jake Ungerman, who had dreamed his whole life of being a helicopter pilot. He loved his job and took great pride in it.

  “Mr. Swingle!” he said. “Is something…”

  “We’re leaving,” snapped Swingle, climbing into the chopper. “Now.”

  “Uh, sir, we can’t right now. The FAA…”

  “I don’t care what the FAA says,” said Swingle. “Start the engine!”

  “Sir,” said Ungerman. “I’d lose my license.”

  Swingle leaned forward and grabbed Ungerman’s shirt. “You listen to me, kid,” he said. “I can get you your license back if you lose it. But if you don’t take off right now, I will make sure you lose it forever. You’ll never fly again. You won’t be allowed to fly a kite. Do you understand me?”

  Ungerman nodded glumly.

  “Good,” said Swingle. “Then start the engine.”

  Ungerman began flipping switches. “What about your staff?” he asked.

  “Forget them,” said Swingle. “Go.”

  The big rotor began to turn. Swingle buckl
ed himself into his seat. He looked out the window toward the gym, which was full of scared people worrying about what was going to happen, waiting to be told what to do. Bunch of sheep, Swingle thought. He was very pleased with the way he’d handled the situation. He had taken charge. That’s why, he, Lance Swingle, was a winner. As the rotors spun faster, he took one last look out the window at the school and the gym full of losers. He smiled a thin, self-satisfied smile, the smile of a man in control of his own destiny.

  If he had looked out the window on the other side, he would have seen an indication that his destiny was not, after all, entirely in his own hands: a four-ton frankfurter, coming fast.

  “YOU’RE GOING OFF THE ROAD!” shouted Toby.

  “I KNOW THIS!” answered Vrsk.

  The hurtling Wienermobile, followed by the whooping police car, had barely made the turn into the Hubble Middle School driveway. The giant hot dog fishtailed wildly as Vrsk fought to regain control. He did not totally succeed. The driveway curved gently left, but the Wienermobile kept going straight, lurching into the air as the wheels hit the curb. The impact shoved the terrified occupants forward, and Vrsk’s foot slammed down hard on the accelerator. The Wienermobile shot forward onto the ball field.

  WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP

  The police car vaulted the curb right behind them. Directly ahead was the chain-link fencing of the baseball backstop.

  “STOP STOP STOP STOP!” shouted Toby, whose voice was joined by a chorus of desperate shouts and screams from the people in the back of the Wienermobile. None of this had any effect on Vrsk, who was totally focused on trying to get the steering under control, and thus had pretty much forgotten about his right foot, which remained on the accelerator as the Wienermobile crashed into and through the backstop, bouncing wildly as it hurtled over fencing and fence post. The police car hit the fallen backstop next and lost control, spinning in a full circle, then another, then rolling over several times before ending up on its side, still whooping.

  Meanwhile the Wienermobile hit the pitcher’s mound at a good sixty miles per hour. The sudden impact sent the occupants sprawling, including Vrsk, who now lost all control. Toby was the first to get his head up and see, directly ahead, a helicopter.