During their time with the pirates, Diego’s friends had earned the respect of the captain and his crew. And although things had been better between him and the captain since the attack at sea, Diego never felt like the captain believed in him. This seemed particularly obvious during their boxing rounds. In the ring, the captain would constantly remind him to focus and criticize his choice of tactics no matter whom he fought or how he did.
One morning in the fourth week, they drew straws, and Diego ended up in the ring with Gaston. The captain, watching from a bench nearby, sighed and shook his head.
Diego caught this out of the corner of his eye, renewing his frustration. The old Russian had already made up his mind that Diego would lose the fight.
“You know that boy is gonna whip you like he always does,” Paige said. “You’re too young, too short, and Gaston’s—too fine.”
“Fine? Really?” Diego said as Ajax finished wrapping his hands.
“Maybe,” Paige said.
“Don’t underestimate our boy, Ms. Jordan,” Ajax said. “I was as small as young Ribera once, and all I needed was focus to win against most foes.”
Paige, Petey, and Diego looked at Ajax skeptically.
“Cyborg—please, you were never that small!”
“It’s true. Sparring is all about being calm and focused,” Ajax said.
“I am focused on him,” Diego said.
“But you’re always focused on the one power punch, a knockout,” Ajax said. He laced Diego’s gloves. “And that makes you easy to read—predictable. Gaston turns it against you.”
“Yeah, D,” Petey said, “you’re stronger than he thinks. You gotta outsmart him.”
Paige let out a sigh and put her hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Maybe there’s something I can do.”
As Diego stepped into the ring, Paige sidled over next to Gaston, who was on the far side dancing in place, knocking his gloves together, a sheen of sweat on him from going rounds with Petey and Lucy.
“Hey there, monsieur,” Paige said with a mischievous smile. She leaned into his ear and whispered something.
Gaston grinned. “Well, we already know how the petit frère will fare, so why don’t I just take that now?” He leaned toward her like he was going to kiss her cheek, but Paige shoved him away.
“Not until it’s over.”
“What are you talking about?” Petey asked as Paige returned.
“I told Gaston that the winner of this match gets a kiss from one of the girls,” Paige said.
“Paige!” Lucy gasped.
“I wish it could be both,” Gaston said with a chuckle. “Sadly for you, only one lovely lady will get to know the thrill of these lips.”
“Eww,” Petey said.
Diego’s eyes met Lucy’s, but she looked away.
Gaston tapped him on the shoulder. Diego snapped back and saw him grinning. “Let’s get this over with quick, okay, lover boy?”
“How about I flatten your face?” Diego said, and he threw a punch, but Gaston was out of the way well before it arrived, blocking with one arm and jabbing Diego in the ribs with the other. Diego stumbled.
“So predictable,” Gaston said, knocking his gloves together.
Diego staggered back, stepped one way, darted the other, and threw a left hook—
Gaston was ready, and Diego’s punch had barely arrived before Gaston’s glove was right in his face.
Diego tumbled over, his jaw howling.
“Aha,” Gaston said, grinning at Paige. “Now, on to the lips!”
“Get up, Diego,” Petey urged.
Diego jumped up and took a step toward Gaston—but stopped. “Hey!”
“Oh ho, look who wants the other lip fattened,” Gaston said. “After all, you won’t be needing them.”
Diego stood his ground. He realized that, in spite of all Gaston’s petit frère comments, being shorter than Gaston might give him the advantage.
Gaston motioned with his gloves. “What are you waiting for?”
Diego thought about the lessons they’d learned the last couple of weeks. About what Ajax had said once about fighting a larger opponent. “When you fight the bigger man, he’ll always underestimate you because you’re small,” he’d said. “And he’ll always fight from the outside, where his reach is strong, so you’ve got to draw him in close where he doesn’t like to fight, where your size and speed are more effective.”
It was all about being calm, Diego realized. All about being still in the face of the attack. About seeing the next step. That was what Gaston always did . . . he was counterpunching. He’d let Diego try to punch him, and as soon as Diego swung, he’d be exposed, and Gaston would let him have it.
“Looks like I’m waiting for the poulet,” Diego said, still not moving. “Who’d want to kiss that beak anyway?”
“Oh.” Gaston clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “My petit frère, do you think you can beat me with insults?” He raised his gloves and edged toward Diego.
Diego stepped in, close enough to be an easy target. He faked like he was going to punch but at the last second held back. Gaston reacted, feinting and then swinging. Diego moved even closer. He slipped under Gaston’s swing and stepped in, blocking the direction that Gaston always went to. For a half second, Gaston looked confused as he found himself within Diego’s range. Diego heard the taller boy gasp for the first time. Ajax’s words came back to him: Stay in close going upstairs then downstairs; working combinations to the body keeps him off balance.
Diego stared in disbelief.
“Way to go, D!” Petey shouted.
Redford steamed in delight, raising his arm to the sky.
Diego smiled and realized he’d been holding his breath. His hands were shaking inside his gloves. So much for being calm. But he nodded and turned toward Lucy.
“So . . . ,” he started to say—
But hands grabbed him by the shoulders.
“I didn’t say which girl was going to give the kiss,” Paige said with a devious smile. “And, boy, do you need a shower.”
Lucy’s face was bright red as she laughed into her hand.
“Ribera,” Gaston said, staggering to his feet and rubbing his head, “that one belonged to me.”
“Not today it didn’t,” Paige said. “And my kisses belong to me.”
“Yowch,” Petey said under his breath.
“Well, well.” The captain joined them, unsmiling. “Ribera, in the ring you are prone to anger and are easily distracted. You choose terrible tactics that cause you to fail repeatedly.”
“But—” Diego said.
“But . . . I did not see that boy in the ring today. I saw a glimpse of the warrior to be.” He put a hand on Diego’s shoulder. “A young man who found a way to prevail against a stronger adversary.”
“A lucky swing,” Gaston said, wiping at his mouth.
“Gaston,” the captain said. “The boy has earned a respite from your tongue.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“I have new jobs for all of you today,” the captain said. “The end is approaching, and we have many preparations to make.”
Lucy and Paige were ordered to replenish the munitions on the John Curtis, while the captain sent Petey and Diego out across the bay to retrieve a list of spare engine parts from the ship’s graveyard.
“That was some KO,” Petey said as they sat on Redford’s shoulder. Daphne was scurrying back and forth across Redford’s head and operating chair, barking whenever a gull or pteranodon circled near.
“Settle down, girl,” Diego said, petting her, but she darted by as another winged creature came within range.
Diego turned back to Petey. “Thanks. It’s a relief to shut Gaston up for once.”
Redford left the bay and crossed the emerald waters between huge piles of ships and airplanes lying on the outcroppings of coral, almost as if they’d been placed there.
Redford blew a plume of steam.
“Yes, Redford. It
is very beautiful here.”
“And dangerous,” Petey said, peering down at the water.
“An elasmosaurus,” Petey said. “You can tell by the elongated neck.” He turned back to Diego. “Say, how do you know what Redford is saying?”
“I feel like I understand him. But I’m guessing, really.”
Petey narrowed his eyes, then leaned over and opened the interface panel. “This is very beautiful,” he read off the tablet. “That was a pretty accurate guess.”
Diego shrugged. Was he understanding Redford now? He still felt a dull ache in his mouth. There was so much he didn’t get. He thought about telling Petey about his newest discovery, about Daphne, the turtles, and losing the tooth.
He scanned the wrecks instead. “That looks like the one the captain was talking about.”
Redford let them off on the deck of a nearby ship, then began salvaging parts from the wreck’s engine.
“So tell me,” Petey said, “what was it like?”
“What?” Diego asked, though he was already blushing.
“Come on. That was your first kiss, right?”
“You know it was,” Diego said. “But it wasn’t exactly a kiss. More like an attack on my face. Her lips were, like, strong.”
“Strong?”
“Like, made of iron. If I hadn’t had a fat lip already, she might have given me one.”
They both laughed.
Diego turned away, wanting to change the conversation topic, and spied something in the distance.
“Petey, check it out. See that little boat out there?”
The boat was marooned on a rock, hanging off it at a cockeyed angle. It had a long, sleek hull that came to a sharp point, and its low, stubby cockpit was dotted with antenna. Small machine guns were mounted at the bow and stern.
“World War II patrol torpedo boat,” Petey said. “They were called PT boats.”
“Do you see what’s on the deck?”
Petey shaded his eyes. “Are those what I think they are?”
“When Redford’s done, we’ll check it out before we head back.”
Redford filled his small barge with engine parts, and the two boys climbed back aboard. After a quick visit to the PT boat, they climbed onto Redford’s shoulders for the return journey to the bay.
A short time later, they reached the John Curtis.
“Check it out,” Petey said, pointing at the ship’s new changes.
“Wow,” Diego said. “Those reconfigurations and that paint job. Might be enough to throw off the Aeternum and give us the element of surprise. Brilliant work, sir!” he called up to the captain as they pulled up alongside.
“It was a group effort,” he said. “You found the parts I requested.” He looked over their haul and pointed to two metal cylinders. “You know those are useless if they’re empty.”
“If they were empty,” Diego said, “I wouldn’t have brought them back.”
“What are they?” Lucy asked, joining the captain.
“Just something to make our odds of winning a little better,” Diego said.
“I’d say those were Mark 18 torpedo launch tubes taken from a torpedo boat in the ship’s graveyard, and if Diego is correct, each launcher carries a standard US Navy Mark 18 torpedo,” the captain said.
“Exactly, sir,” Diego said. “I’ll have those torpedoes ready for battle.”
“Good work,” the captain said. “Now, let’s get these parts on board and see about getting our new launchers mounted and prepped for the mission.”
Redford lowered the boys to the deck. As Redford loaded the supplies onto the John Curtis, they watched Ajax operate Seahorse, carefully lowering the Kingfisher seaplane to a newly installed platform mounted on the back deck of the ship.
“Is that a new airplane catapult, sir?” Diego asked.
“Steam powered,” the captain said. “All the changes make us look like a Yorktown salvage ship, including the reengineered paddle wheels to operate from the side. Our seaplane will appear to be for search and rescue.”
“Until they’re close enough to spot that modified front end, and the Vought F4U Corsair engine that Redford and I installed,” Diego said.
“Ajax’s side cannons will give them a fright, too,” Petey said.
“With the way I fly,” Gaston said, “by the time they see our modifications, it will be too late.” His voice was muddled by his swollen nose. “What about you, Ms. Lucy? I saw you checking out the plane before. Would you like to learn how to fly?”
Lucy didn’t respond.
“Gaston,” the captain said. “We should head back to the castle.”
Ajax arrived on deck, his shirt splattered with oily liquid.
“What happened to you?” Petey asked.
“One of Seahorse’s hydraulic hoses came loose,” he said, pulling off his shirt and turning to get a rag. Lucy was the first to see Ajax as he turned away, and she gasped. Then they all saw the scars. Crisscrossing patterns of them covered Ajax’s back, jagged and deep.
“They are surprising, at first, I know,” Ajax said, turning to face them.
“Are they . . . ?” Paige asked. “I mean . . .”
“Yes, but don’t trouble yourself,” Ajax said. “It was a long time ago, back when I was all man and not part machine, and yet not a man at all. The world I came from saw me as property. I was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and sold to a tobacco plantation in North Carolina. But I escaped and took a new name from my birthplace, and from the man that set to make me free: Abraham. Became Abraham Jackson, but folks just called me Ajax for short. I wore the Union blue of the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts Infantry, fighting to free my brothers and sisters, and to ensure that children, that you, would never feel the pain of a whip on your back. But then the Time Collision brought me here, and I learned what true freedom could be.” He stood and started working with the pressure gauges on the plane catapult.
“I’m sorry for that time, but this world isn’t free, Ajax,” Paige said. “We’ve still got scars on the inside. My parents still struggle, still face people who hate us because of the color of our skin.”
“But you don’t have to hate back.” Ajax shook his head. “And at least you and your parents came into this world . . . as people. You are too young even to know how good you have it. As slaves, we were forbidden to learn to read. But in this time, there is no punishment . . . and no shame in wanting to read. And here I was, a free man learning from a Mid-Time schoolteacher who taught little kids. The captain put me in a school where the students there were older folks like me. Peoples of all colors and times . . . it was a privilege. And now I’ve read your Mid-Time books about the great changes, the leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi, people who didn’t have to raise a gun to change the world for the better. They fought, but in a new way. A better way. And now, here, after the Time Collision, we all have a chance like we never had before. You know your history, but you are no longer bound to it.”
“I still feel like we are,” Paige said. Ajax strode over to Paige, whose gaze had dropped.
“Yes,” Ajax said. With his human hand, he lifted up her chin so her face caught the light. “But no one has to be. You have the freedom to choose a better way.”
Listening, Diego understood something he hadn’t before. The captain and his men weren’t just fighting to keep the children of this world alive, to “make the best of it” in this new world. They truly believed that this world was a chance that humanity would otherwise have never had. “We can literally make our own future,” Diego said.
“Yes,” Ajax said. “You are not resigned to the march of time that leads to the wasteland of the Elders. No matter what this world throws at you, you are truly free. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Did you lose your arm in the war?” Diego asked.
“I lost more than my arm,” Ajax said. “And it was the war against Magnus that got me this beauty here.” Ajax held up his arm. “But fighting for this world was
worth it.” Ajax tipped his hat and turned back to check on the catapult.
“This world is a second chance.” The captain arrived behind them.
He gazed off the back deck as the sun set across the harbor. The kids joined him. Ajax kept working. Light painted the clouds in orchid hues. Birds chirped and darted over the treetops. The captain glanced at Petey. His eyes were shut, the orange light bathing his face.
“Gaston and Ajax have been through a lot,” the captain said. “I have asked so much sacrifice of them. Most of my men have paid with their lives. They have all been like sons and daughters to me, and yet still I believe as Ajax does.”
“Sir . . . ,” Diego said. Now seemed as good a time as any. “What happened to your family?”
The captain sighed. “They died long ago, before the Time Collision. My soldiers are my family now.”
“And us,” Lucy said.
“We should head back to the castle,” the captain said. “You all need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we will make our final preparations.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Games of War and Jubilation
The next morning, Diego was up and on the beach with the sunrise, in line with everyone else. After sprints and exercises, they huddled with the captain and reviewed their mission, the captain diagramming each team’s position in the sand. Afterward, they split into their pairs and spent the whole day running their routines, again and again in the hot sun.
Hours later, Diego caught up with the captain walking along the beach.
“You did well,” the captain said as Diego walked by his side. “We are ready.”
“Captain,” Diego said, “I have a request—a favor, really. Would you mind if I went back to the hangar? There’s something I’d like to work on. It’s a surprise, sort of. For my friends. Because we are leaving in two days, I wanted to ask if we could have tomorrow to ourselves.”
“That will be fine. You’ve earned it. But on the condition that Gaston is allowed to join you.”
Diego and the Rangers of the Vastlantic Page 22