“Are you taking us to Neeka?” I have to shout because the Tunneler is so far in front of us, and no matter how fast we walk to catch up, they walk just as fast to keep their distance.
“She will be alerted. We are taking you to your pod leader.”
“But like we told you, Mr. Tunneler,” Marco says, “Waters isn’t here yet.”
“Call me sir. Your information is outdated.”
“Waters is here!” Lucy says for just our pod to hear. “Thanks goodness. Now we don’t have to deal with any more Sheek strategy sessions. Maybe Gedney is here, too. When do you think they’re going to roll out the BPS?”
Before any of us can answer, the two Tunnelers stop at a door several meters in front of us, around the corner from our burrow.
“What’s in there, Sir Tunneler?” Marco shouts.
Sir Tunneler? Way to push the guy’s buttons, Marco.
We catch up with the officers and crowd behind them at the door. When the first one turns—I’m guessing to yell at Marco for calling him names—he erupts in a coughing fit. The voice box goes haywire again. “No translation. No translation. No translation.”
We burst out laughing. In fact, I’m laughing so hard I almost miss what the other Tunneler says.
Breek. “The baths.”
They push open the door and then take off so fast they’re practically running.
I glance at Marco. He shrugs and steps inside. Following him in, we enter a space about the size of my living room back on Earth. Both sides of the room are lined with puffy, round seats that look like toadstools. At the end of the room, two old Tunnelers sit at a desk. They bark at each other when we walk in.
Leaning against the desk is Waters. He takes a stride in our direction and then jumps back. “They weren’t kidding.” Waters waves a hand in front of his face. “You stink!”
We should have guessed. Of course we smell as horrible as a pile of rotten trash, because we were just standing in a tunnel full of it. Not to mention we bathed in the bad breath of that monster worm. We’ve been stinking for so long, we can’t smell it anymore.
But now we’re busted. I glance at Marco, who gives an imperceptible shake of the head. I’m not sure what that means. Maybe it means toe the line and say nothing, but if Marco thinks that’s going to fly with Waters, he’s not thinking straight.
And did he forget we have Cole with us?
“We ran into some unforeseen difficulty,” I say.
“I’d say so,” Waters says, scrunching up his nose. “What happened?”
“We . . . ,” Cole starts.
“Oh, I’ll tell him,” Lucy says. “We got locked out, so we had to find another way back. And someone—I’m not going to name names, but it wasn’t me—had this brilliant idea to take this laundry chute, which was all fine and dandy until we had to get out of there and we ended up in this never-ending tunnel. And when we’d been walking for what seemed like forever, all this trash started raining down, which was super disgusting, and then this buzzer sounded and this enormous worm with this humongous mouth almost ate us.”
“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Lucy.” Waters crosses to the side of the room, far away from our stinky bunch, and sits down on a toadstool. As soon as his butt hits the seat, it sinks around him, morphing into a super comfy chair. “So you met the infamous Tunneler trash worm. I’ve heard about that thing. Frankly I thought it was a legend. Whoever heard of using a worm for garbage disposal?”
“Not us until about thirty minutes ago,” I say.
“Well, let’s get you cleaned up. I’d like to hear about your first week in the Tundra Trials, but it can wait until you no longer smell like a rotten banana left out to decay in the scorch zone. Tomorrow morning, we’ll convene as a pod.” He stands up and jogs to the exit, like he can’t wait to escape the stench.
The door blasts open, and a panicking Neeka nearly knocks Waters down.
“Oh! Oh! What happened? What did I miss? Is everything okay? Father said there was a problem. Oh! Oh! Ewww! What is that smell?”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “We got locked in a tunnel and chased by the trash worm, but we got out, so everything’s okay.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh! No! Father will be so upset. How ever did you get in the trash tunnel?”
“Excuse me,” Waters says. “Who are you?”
Neeka spins around. When she sees Waters, she stands up straight (or as straight as she can as a Tunneler) and smooths her uniform. “Oh! I’m Neeka. I’m their junior ambassador. Who are you?”
“I’m Jon Waters, their pod leader, which means I outrank you in the whole pecking-order thing.” Waters smiles and adjusts his blazer. “You know, I never get to say that, and I kind of like it. Anyway, Junior Ambassador Neeka, make sure they get cleaned up! Bounders, I’ll see you at the Trials.”
17
NEEKA IS OBVIOUSLY FLUSTERED. EVEN though she had nothing to do with the trash-worm incident, she seems to think she’s going to be in big trouble with her dad. She turns off her voice box and jabbers away at the two old Tunnelers behind the intake desk at the baths. One wears tinted glasses and the other has a lacy cloth on her head, and neither looks too happy to be dealing with our stinky crew.
The Tunnelers bark back at Neeka. The one with the head cloth rushes the girls through a curtain on one side of the desk and waves Marco, Cole, and me toward the other. When at first we don’t budge, the other Tunneler practically chases us through the curtain. The room we enter is dimly lit and cramped. I can’t even stand up without cracking my head on the ceiling. The old Tunneler follows us in. She removes her glasses, grunts at us in Gulagan, and gestures madly at her Tunneler frock. When we stare back with confused expressions, she grabs Marco by the shirt and starts unfastening buttons.
“All right, all right, cool it, Furry Friend,” Marco says. “You want us to take our clothes off. Got it.”
As we strip off our shirts, the Tunneler turns some knobs on the wall, and the room fills with steam. She grunts and pulls back a curtain revealing a shower with the water at full blast. She waves at us, points at the shower, and rushes from the room. I guess the shower is for us.
Once we finish soaping up and rinsing off, three enormous Tunnelers enter the shower carrying blankets. They wrap us up like burritos, heft us into their stocky arms, and carry us out of the shower to a small hovel where three tall tables are lined up. Placing us facedown on the tables with the blankets covering us, they slap our backs like they’re playing the drums, then follow that up with about a hundred karate chops. It seems like it should hurt, but it actually feels pretty good.
When they’re done with the back beating, they grunt and point at stacks of cloth lying on a shelf against the wall. Then they leave us alone, pulling a curtain across the hovel.
“Well, that was weird, fellas,” Marco says, cinching the blanket around his waist and hopping off the table.
“Do you think the girls went through the same thing?” Cole asks.
“Probably,” I say. “I don’t know if I want to do it again, but I liked it, in a pummel-my-body-into-butter kind of way.”
I wrap the blanket around me and grab a cloth bundle from the shelf. When I shake out the coarse, brown cloth, I see it’s one of the Tunneler frocks.
“Ummm . . . Do they expect us to wear these?” I hold the frock against my body. It won’t even reach my knees.
“These aren’t Earth Force uniforms.” Cole glares at the cloth bundle in his hands like it might cause a terrible disease.
“Thanks for the news flash, Genius,” Marco says.
“Unless we’re in our bunks, we’re supposed to be in Earth Force uniforms at all times,” Cole says.
“Yeah, well, last time I checked our dailies smelled like trash-eating worm,” I say.
Despite looking like he might freak, Cole doesn’t argue. It’s either Tunneler garb or no clothes at all, so it’s a straightforward choice.
We pull the coarse cloths over our heads.
&nbs
p; The frocks don’t look as bad as they do on the Tunnelers. They look worse. Tunnelers and humans aren’t built the same. They have a huge hunch on their backside, so on us the front of the frock is too small and the back is way too big. It has the unfortunate effect of making us look like we’re wearing diapers.
After we’re dressed, we find the girls in a lounge near the waiting area. Lucy paces across the rug. Mira perches on a stool with her legs tucked inside her frock.
As we enter, Neeka scurries over. “Oh! You smell so fresh and clean! What a very big improvement!”
“Do we really have to wear these?” Lucy says, balling up the sides of her frock in her fists. “I can’t be seen in public like this!”
“They are laundering your uniforms,” Neeka says. “You should have them back before bedtime. But until then, they’ve loaned you Tunneler attire, which is a very nice alternative.”
“What’s the problem, Lucy?” Marco says. “Just tie some brown ribbons in your hair and tell them it’s the latest fashion trend.”
“Shut up, Marco! Honestly, if I have to tell you to be quiet one more time, I’m going to—”
“You’re going to what, Pretty Face, talk me to death?”
“Enough!” I shout. “It’s bad enough that we have to wear these to dinner without having to listen to you two fight about it.”
“We’re not . . . ,” Lucy starts. “Well, I suppose we are fighting, but it’s all Tofu Face’s fault.”
“Seriously?” Marco says. “You’re really going to call me that?”
I sink down on a stool next to Mira. The sides mold around me like a cradle, so I’m entirely supported. I stretch my legs out on the furry, purple rug. Above, the ceiling curves and the soft occludium light casts shadows.
Marco ignores Lucy and stretches out on the floor. “Hey, Neeksters, what is this rug made of?”
“Oh! It is so very comfortable, isn’t it? It’s from the top layer of an edible mold we grow in the sublayers. Very soft, like real fur. I must go now. I’ve left your blast packs charging in the waiting room. They’ll be fine there. Hardly anyone comes here since Earth Force had the custom human baths built.”
Edible mold? Gross. I lift my feet in the air.
“I’m going to forget she told me that,” Marco says, climbing up on the bench.
When I close my eyes and ignore the itchy Tunneler frock against my skin and the moldy rug beneath my feet, I can almost believe I’m in Waters’s pod room, cushioned by the million tiny beads of my favorite turquoise bean bag.
“You know what I miss?” I ask. “Our pod room. I’m thinking everyone would get along if we had a pod room. And I nominate this room right here.”
The others mull over my idea, which is good, because it means we get a break from Marco–Lucy bickering.
“We could call it the Nest,” I continue. “Doesn’t this room remind you of a nest? It’s so cozy and comfy. It’s the right size; it’s totally private—what do you say?”
“You know, Ace, when you’re right, you’re right,” Marco says, kicking his legs up and lying back on the bench. “This place is pretty cool.”
“We do need a place to talk strategy,” Lucy says, sitting down on the other side of Mira. “Maybe we can invite Ridders’s pod sometimes. That will help keep our alliance secret.”
“Potential alliance,” Cole corrects. “I’m fine with the idea. As long as I don’t have to wear this frock every time we come here.”
“It’s settled, then,” I say, sinking even farther into my seat. “The Nest is our temporary pod room.”
“While we’re talking about the pod,” Lucy says, “since Waters is back, think we can lose the Sheek face from our helmets?”
“I don’t see why not,” Marco says. “You’re the fashion expert. Any ideas what we should use instead?”
“I have lots of ideas! Chartreuse is a hot color this year, although fuchsia is always my fallback. I’m thinking alternating color bands along our helmets with sleeve ties to match.”
“Pink and green stripes?” I ask. “No way.”
“Fine,” she says. “My backup idea is faux-fur collars. They’re the absolute rage in winter wear. Remember that coat I wore back at the laboratory?”
“H-2-O-s-5,” Cole says, pacing across the rug.
“What? Was that English, Wiki?” Marco asks.
“H2Os5,” Cole repeats. “We should place it on a sticker right over Sheek’s decal.”
“Okay . . . ,” I say. “Are you going to clue us in on what it means?”
Cole shakes his head. “Isn’t it obvious? H2O is the symbol for water. H2Os5 means Waters’s Five. Our pod.”
“Waters’s Five,” Lucy says, mulling it over. “It’s subtle, cryptic, completely original. I have to admit I like it.”
“Our very own trademark,” I say. “Sounds good to me.”
“Clever, which I’ve come to expect from you, Wiki,” Marco says. “Now we have more serious things to talk about, like those nuggets from Ridders and Sheek.”
Cole finally takes a seat next to me, and the same expression he has when playing Evolution settles on his face. “I think two things are clear. There’s going to be a meeting, and it has to do with a military engagement, which I assume means a strategic initiative in the war against the Youli.”
“So they are sending us to war!” Lucy says, shooting a nasty look at Marco.
Marco shrugs and turns to me. “Does that sound like the same thing Waters was talking about, Jasper?”
“Maybe.” I pull at the frock that rubs across my collarbone. “He called the meeting a summit, and he said something about us only knowing the tip of the iceberg about the galaxy.”
“Is that all he said?” Marco asks. “You’re sure he didn’t give any details that might explain the summit?”
My breath catches, and I shift my gaze to the moldy rug. I should really tell them about the brain patch. I promised my pod mates that I’d put them first, that I wouldn’t keep secrets. Maybe I should spill the dirt now. Why would it really matter if they knew? It could help us get to the bottom of what Earth Force is really up to.
No. Mira shifts in her seat and glides her hand over mine. She wants me to keep quiet.
It’s not fair for you to read my mind without permission, I think. But fine.
“Hello? Earth to Jasper?” Lucy says.
“Sorry. I was just replaying the discussion in my mind. I can’t remember anything else Waters said that might be important.”
“Fair enough,” Marco says. “We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open. If Earth Force wants to use us for a military engagement, we need to find out why.”
“Then I suppose we’d better brave the cantina.” Lucy stands and straightens her frock. “We might as well get this fashion nightmare over with.”
“Here he comes.” Cole shifts in his seat and tugs at his frock.
It’s not like I have eyes in the back of my head or anything, but I can see Regis coming. I can picture his smug face. His casual saunter. His nasty grin expanding by the second as he gets a good look at me and my Tunneler frock. I resist the urge to look and shove another bite of forage into my mouth. “Ignore him.”
“Something tells me that’s going to be a challenge,” Lucy says.
Before we came to the cantina, she managed to roll and tuck the sleeves of the coarse Tunneler cloth so it doesn’t look quite as bad. It certainly won’t spare her from Regis’s teasing, just as it hasn’t spared us from all the laughs and stares and snide comments we’ve received since we grabbed our trays and got in line. The footsteps grow louder and then stop right behind my chair. My muscles tense, bracing for impact, even if it’s only verbal impact.
“When I heard the rumor, I thought it was too good to be true,” Regis’s voice booms. “But you B-wads never fail to disappoint.”
Don’t respond. Don’t respond. Don’t respond. First, I think this to myself. Then Mira echoes the same command in my head. At least
Marco’s not here. He acted all mysterious, said he had something to take care of right before we walked into the cantina, and hasn’t been seen since. Which is good, because if he were here, this thing with Regis would be guaranteed to morph into a full blowout.
“Honestly,” Regis’s voice booms. “I don’t know why I spend even a second thinking about how to mess with you, Jasper, when you make it so freaking easy. Hey, Hakim, you smell something?”
Here it comes. I’ve never felt so naked as right now in this itchy brown frock that looks curiously similar to the tuber storage sacks.
“Yeah,” Hakim mumbles. “Trash.”
“Worse than trash,” Randall says. “Tunneler Trash.”
“You reek, Jasper,” Regis says.
“Shut your mouth, Regis,” I say and instantly regret it.
“You’re telling me to shut my mouth? I’m an Earth Force officer, Jasper. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You don’t outrank us,” Cole says, as if that has any chance of steering this conflict in a different direction.
Regis laughs. “Oh, I think I do. I don’t see you in uniform. For all I know, you’ve been booted from Earth Force. After all, Earth Force officers don’t have to walk through the trash tunnel. I bet you’re no better than Tunneler scum.”
“Yeah. Tunneler scum,” echoes Randall.
“Go away, Regis,” Lucy says.
“You’re looking lovely, Lucy.”
“I said go away.” Her words are loud and slow.
“I told you what would happen if you kept hanging out with these winners, Lucy. Why don’t you come sit with me and the guys?”
Lucy stands, puts her hands on her hips, and shouts, “This is harassment! You get away from me right now, Regis, or I will report you personally to the admiral!”
Heads swivel and eyes turn to stare at our table. Great. If anyone happened to miss our Tunneler garb, now we’re on full display.
The Tundra Trials Page 14