Diego and the Rangers of the Vastlantic

by Armand Baltazar

  Diego’s shoulders ached, and his back felt like links of iron chain.

  “Ship’s nearly back to even keel,” Lucy observed. “That’s something.”

  “It is good,” Ajax said, “but that patch won’t last if we hit any rough seas.”

  Footsteps thundered on the catwalk, and the captain ducked into the space. He surveyed their work with a grim nod. “Seawater got in the food stores,” he announced. “We’ve found a place to weigh anchor and make repairs. Get yourselves cleaned up and fed, and then rest. I’ll need you all alert and ready to work when we arrive.”

  They staggered, sore and soaked, up to the galley. Gaston had a fire going and had made them hot tea. Petey had spread the navigation charts out on the table.

  “This is where we were,” he said to Lucy, pointing to one of the pages. “The chart’s clear.”

  “You both did your jobs,” Gaston said, “but the waters of the Vastlantic still hold secrets.”

  “I should have seen it coming,” Lucy said.

  “Nonsense, mademoiselle,” Gaston said.

  “Yeah, Lucy, don’t sweat it,” Paige said, patting her on the back.

  “Is this where we’re headed?” Petey asked, running his finger to a small cluster of islands.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Gaston said.

  Petey squinted at the chart. “It’s called Las Islas del Diente y Terror. Why do I have a bad feeling that’s somewhere we don’t want to be?”

  “Because its name means ‘The Islands of Tooth and Terror,’” Diego said. “Is there a reason for that name, Gaston?”

  Diego saw Gaston lean over and whisper something in Lucy’s ear. Her eyes widened.

  “What?” Petey asked.

  “Apparently, those islands are infested with dragons,” she said.

  “Oui, our destination is certainly a last resort,” Gaston said. “Many of the Islands of the Great Eastern Wall remain uncharted and unexplored. A seventeenth-century Spanish merchant ship discovered this section years ago when it stopped to replenish water supplies. The sailors told stories of being attacked by dragons. Over half of their crew were eaten. Since then . . . no one goes there.”

  Gaston winked at the girls. “But have no worries, I picked the smallest island in the cluster, the one named Diablo Pequeño: Little Devil.”

  “Oh great,” Petey said, “as if we weren’t in enough danger. Why not add some dragons, too?”

  “Are you sure it will be okay?” Lucy asked.

  “Of course not,” Gaston said. “Out here, it is best to be prepared for the worst. That way you can be pleasantly surprised when things go better.”

  “How often do they go better?” Paige asked.

  “Not very often,” Gaston said. “But remember, you girls will have Gaston Le Baptiste to protect you.”

  “Great,” Diego said.

  When the ship’s horn shook him awake, Diego felt like he’d barely slept at all.

  “Maybe they found a different island,” Petey said, dragging himself out of bed. “Maybe instead of dragons it’s an island full of roller coasters and midway games. Why couldn’t the Time Collision make that? Just once I’d like to find the archipelago of Coney Island.”

  “We’ll be all right,” Diego said, yet his belly rumbled with nervous energy.

  They found Lucy already on the bridge, at the ship’s wheel.

  “Five degrees left!” Gaston called to her from out on the bow, watching over the railing for rocks and reefs.

  Ahead, Diego saw a hilly green island and a cove lined with white sand and lush jungle. It didn’t look like a sinister haven for dragons, more like a paradise, the kind that Diego had only ever seen in books. The sticky air was fragrant with the smell of flowers and hot sand. Exotic birdcalls somersaulted over one another, and a waterfall whispered along with the gentle crashing of the surf.

  “All stop!” Gaston called.

  Lucy brought the throttle back to neutral.

  “Dropping anchor!” Gaston craned to see the stern of the ship. “Okay, Ajax!”

  They went out on deck and saw Ajax pushing himself away from the stern on one of the longboats. His massive mechanized arm puffed out clouds of steam as he unfurled loops of thick steel cable. The cable splashed into the water, and thick netting settled down beneath it, creating a temporary security wall between the ship and the beach.

  “There’s something out there,” Diego said, spying a midnight shadow in the teal water, something massive, moving alongside the net.

  “Dunkleosteus!” Ajax called out from the longboat. “Just a juvenile. The adults can get over thirty feet long. That’s why, in the Vastlantic, you never jump into the beautiful waters of an island paradise.” Ajax turned the boat and paddled back toward the ship.

  “Gaston,” the captain barked. “Get our weapons from the armory. Diego, you know how to drive the robots.”

  “Yeah,” Diego said, “and so does Petey.”

  “I—” Petey began.

  “Good. Go to the barge with Ajax. We’ll use the robots to haul the John Curtis onto shore.”

  Diego and Petey crossed the catwalk bridge, keeping a wary eye on the dunkleosteus as it patrolled the edge of the netting.

  “Why did you lie to him?” Petey asked. “You know I can’t drive those bots. I nearly tore apart your dad’s workshop just sitting in one!”

  “But now’s your chance to learn,” Diego said. “Stay calm and remember, it’s like the Goldfish, only, you know, much bigger.”

  “Diego . . . ,” Petey said with a sigh, but he left it there as they met up with Ajax on the barge.

  Diego climbed up to Redford’s cockpit, with Daphne riding shotgun in his backpack. The higher they rose, the more she barked excitedly and squirmed. She loved riding robots. Once at Redford’s shoulder, Diego put her down and showed Petey how to start up his boiler.

  “Now get in the driver’s seat,” Diego said.

  “I’m not sure, D,” Petey said.

  “Come on, you got it,” Diego said. He climbed over to Redford’s head and manually started his diesel motor. Soon they heard the steam build as the pistons on the robot’s back began to groan and push against the gears.

  “Make sure your belt is fastened, and put Daphne in the toolbox pouch next to the seat,” Diego said. “Then let out the clutch by your left foot, but only after you push the gear lever to ST, for ‘sit.’”

  Petey nodded and did as he was told. Diego held on tight to the handholds, grinning as he felt himself lifted up into the sky. With the sound of expelling steam tanks and groaning metal, the eight-ton monolithic robot sat up.

  The feel of the metal, the view from up here, all of it felt familiar, and, after everything this last week, it was a relief to do something he was great at. Although Redford wasn’t a state-of-the-art robot, he was Diego’s creation, and operating him made Diego feel like a real engineer. It reminded him of when his dad had first taught him how to drive these gigantic machines.

  Seahorse rumbled to life, smoke coughing from its stacks. The barge tilted beneath them as Ajax brought the gargantuan robot up to a sitting position next to them. He pointed to a spot on the beach. Diego waved.

  “Okay, Petey, you got this, and I’ll be right here at your side copiloting. Ready?”

  “Here goes nothing,” Petey said, forcing a smile, his fingers flexing on the controls, his feet on the pedals.

  Redford lurched forward, throwing Diego. “Whoa!” he shouted, clawing to keep from falling off.

  “Sorry!” Petey said. “One sec.” Redford took another giant step, then all at once reversed, spinning on one foot like he was dancing.

  “Petey!” Diego said, dangling by one hand. “Settle down!”

  Redford’s other leg splashed back into the water, and he stood still.

  “I can’t do it!” Petey said, throwing up his hands.

  Diego clambered back to the cockpit. “Okay,” he said, catching his breath. “Here’s the thing, Redford mig
ht be huge, but the movements you make to operate him can be small. Try a lighter touch, okay?”

  “Lighter touch,” Petey said, flexing his fingers. “Okay . . .”

  “But wait until I’ve got a tight grip,” Diego said, “just in case.”

  The next step lurched again, Daphne squealing with worry, but after that, Petey calmed down, and they made their way to shore.

  Two hours later, the John Curtis was beached halfway on shore, and Diego, Petey, Lucy, and Gaston were returning from the jungle with baskets full of fresh fruit, jugs of freshwater filled from a cascading stream, and a bunch of strange roots and shoots that Gaston had known to pick. He also carried a small wild pig over his shoulders. They emerged onto the beach in the brilliant sun and took refuge from the heat beneath the shade of a cluster of palm trees. The robots’ engines were idling. They’d been left on to scare off any unwanted jungle predators while the group was foraging. The tropical plants gave off a sweet, fruity fragrance.

  “So, you pull back this bolt here?” Paige asked. Gaston had been giving her lessons on how to shoot his rifle for almost the entire hike. Diego caught Lucy studying Paige. He wiped the sweat off his brow and made his way over to her.

  “Gaston is doing his best, I’ll say that,” Diego said.

  Lucy pushed matted hair out of her eyes. “All I know is that I’m fed up with this servants’ work. It’s hot and I’m famished and . . .” She looked at him blankly. “I’m sorry. Was there something you needed?”

  “Never mind.” Diego sat down in the sand next to Petey instead.

  “Diego, when you have a chance, ask Gaston to put me out of my misery,” Petey said. “If I have to climb one more tree to pick another coconut or bushel of bananas . . .”

  “Yeah, I know,” Diego said, lying on his back on the cool sand. He gazed up through the leaves into the clear blue sky. “Hey, I have an idea,” he said, sitting up. “You guys want to have some real fun?”

  “Always,” Paige said.

  He elbowed Petey. “Remember what we have in Redford’s storage compartment?”

  “You mean these?” The captain’s voice boomed as he approached them.

  Diego turned and saw the captain pointing at Ajax, who was pulling the gravity boards from the longboat and laying them out on the beach.

  “Oh, crud,” Diego said.

  “What manner of weapons are these?” the captain demanded as they walked over.

  Diego gazed at his birthday board, still pristine, lying there in the sand. “They’re not weapons. They’re gravity boards.”

  “And you smuggled them onto my ship in your robot.”

  “No. I mean, yes. We brought them, but we never meant to hide them.”

  The captain tapped Diego’s board with his toe. “What is their purpose?”

  “My father invented it. You use them to fly around and—”

  “Show me how they work.”

  “Sure.”

  Diego slipped on the steam pack and gloves and stepped onto the board. He adjusted the dials, readied his feet, and shot off at a steep angle, climbing over the trees. What a relief! The wind in his face, the world far below. He banked a series of tight turns, swooped over the group below so close that Gaston’s hat blew off, then shot nearly vertical. When the whole island came into view, he killed the engine and enjoyed a weightless moment before gravity pulled him down. Then he kicked the board back to life and returned to the beach in a tight spiral, coming to a kick stop that sprayed sand on everyone.

  “Aw, man, I could do some damage on one of those!” Paige said.

  “Not bad, Ribera,” Lucy said with a smile.

  “Antigravity fields, thrust-vectoring inductive fans . . . ,” the captain said. “How can this be, without the aid of complex electronics?”

  “My dad could explain better,” Diego said, “but basically, it uses a mercury accelerator to create a limited field of antigravity, and then this pack generates highly pressurized steam to power the thrust-vectoring fans. Those are what you use to control pitch, yaw, roll, and thrust. Everything’s mechanically controlled by cable pulls that connect to the navigating gloves. Actually making the board turn is a matter of coordination and balance.”

  The captain picked up the second steam pack and studied it. “Your father uses technology like this in service of toys and rebuilding. This technology could be so much more.” The captain eyed Diego. “These novelties are a distraction. Back to work, all of you.”

  “Sir,” Gaston said, “we are hours ahead of schedule. With the heat of the day increasing, perhaps a few hours of pleasant distraction would make us all more productive later?”

  Ajax picked up the second board and examined it. “Captain, clearly these were created by the boy’s father to have fun. That’s why I brought them out. The crew’s been working hard, and Gaston’s right. Maybe some time with Diego’s boards would make an excellent reward for everyone, sir?”

  “I could use the wind in my face,” Paige said. “I’m about to die in this heat.”

  “Soldiers are no use when they’re weary of spirit,” Ajax said.

  The captain exhaled slowly. “Yes, Abraham,” the captain said. “Perhaps this is true.” He patted his first mate on the shoulder. “Ribera, you and your friends have my permission to . . . fly your toys.”

  “Seriously?” Petey said.

  “When is he not serious?” Gaston said.

  The captain nodded. “Gaston may join you, once the repairs are done.”

  “Yes, sir!” Diego said, slinging the steam pack over his shoulders again.

  “But let me be clear: stay to the beach; this jungle is full of dangers,” the captain said. “You must stay within sight of the ship at all times, understood?”

  “Got it.” Diego turned to his friends. “I should probably take you up one at a time since we only have two boards, until you get the hang of it.”

  “I’ll go first,” Lucy volunteered. “My father designed something similar.” She pulled on a flying cap and goggles. “But he deemed it a frivolous novelty. He’s missing the point.”

  “Yeah.” Diego knelt in front of Lucy and adjusted her boots. She slung Siobhan’s steam pack over her shoulders. He connected the hoses and cables and checked the pressure readings. They were all safely in the black. He stepped close to her and slipped the gloves over her hands. He felt her eyes watching, and he met her gaze. He noticed a touch of emerald threads woven into the blue of her eyes like the waters in the cove.

  Lucy drew a breath. “The metal actuators in the gloves tingle,” she said.

  “You’re a little nervous.”

  “Emersons don’t get—”

  “Nervous. I got that—”

  “Don’t get nervous often was what I was going to say.” Lucy smiled. “But I am. A little.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy.” He tapped a gauge on the glove. “You start by adjusting this and then use your feet to—”

  “You mean like this?” Lucy shot off into the sky, skimming over the treetops.

  “Don’t stand there, fool,” Paige said. “Get after her before she gets herself killed!”

  Diego jumped onto his board and soared off in pursuit.

  “This is brilliant!” Lucy said over the wind, her face red.

  “Pretty sick move you made, Emerson.”

  “Well then, you’d better keep up! I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve!”

  “Let’s see ’em!”

  Lucy arced skyward and pulled a tight turn, plummeting and skimming the water.

  Diego dropped down beside her, the spray of her wake misting his face. He loved the feel of the breeze, the bounce of the board, the pure speed. He ducked, dug hard, and shot past her, taking the lead.

  They raced away from the ship, reaching the edge of the cove in moments. Just around the next bend, Diego spied a stream’s mouth, water cascading over enormous rocks. Perfect for air bounces. Diego checked over his shoulder. Heading for
that stream would mean losing sight of the ship. The captain would be furious. But hey, they’d only be out of sight for maybe a minute or two at the most. He pointed to the spot and waved Lucy on.

  Diego sped toward it, increasing his altitude. He focused on a large rounded rock at the river’s end and aimed for it, planning to air bounce it into a three-hundred-sixty-degree flip. Emerson wasn’t the only one with skills.

  He raced closer, getting his balance right. . . .

  When suddenly the rock began to move.

  “Diego, look out!” Lucy shouted.

  It wasn’t a rock at all. A long snout rose from the sand, turning to face him. Giant eyes, rows of yellow teeth. A deinosuchus! The prehistoric crocodile’s tail thrashed and it lunged right at Diego. He banked hard, spraying sand in the croc’s face, then arced around behind it, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.

  “Lucy!”

  He only got a high-pitched scream in response. Lucy’s knees buckled on her board as she shot past him up the stream and into the cool, dark jungle. She glanced back, her eyes wide. It looked like she wanted to scream again but couldn’t, and she plunged ahead even faster.

  The croc sprang after Diego. He ducked into the wind and cranked the dials, shooting forward. He banked back and forth above the stream, shooting into the dark jungle. He turned and saw that the croc had given up the chase, returning instead to the warmth of its sunning place. Diego followed Lucy’s dissipating steam trail. She must have really put on the jets.

  “Lucy!” Diego looked in all directions. She’d been right in front of him. He glanced back again, making sure the deinosuchus was gone.

  A scream echoed through the jungle.

  Diego spun around and charged up the stream. The trees flickered past, the jungle growing denser, darker, reaching for him from all sides. He twisted and turned with the curving water, then broke out into a wide, grassy clearing. There was Lucy and . . .

  Oh no!

  Diego raced to Lucy, swooping down, his board moving at top speed. One allosaurus leaped at her, nearly knocking Lucy off her board. She shrieked. Diego dodged and dove, arriving in front of Lucy. Tears streaked her face. Screams seemed caught inside her throat.