by J. V. Kade
We got here by slithering down a tiny return-air tunnel, pushing through a grate, bursting from a boiler room, and finally into a small alcove that met the tunnel. I have no idea how Vee figured this all out, but I’m glad she did.
Vee points at the ceiling in the main tunnel. “See the pipes up there?”
There’s a big blue pipe, hugged by two smaller red pipes and lastly, a thin white pipe. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to climb on them.”
“How? They’re like ten feet away.”
She pulls a little circular object from her pocket. “With this. It’s a frog whipper.”
There’s nothing special about it, whatever it is. It’s no bigger than a slice of cucumber. The color of dirt. The center glows green.
“Okay, so what’s it do?”
“Watch.” Vee presses the object between her thumb and index finger and then runs. When she reaches the end of the alcove, she leaps, whips her arm forward like she’s bowling, and the little object zings. A glowing green line flies out of it, wraps around the big blue pipe, and ties itself up.
Vee swings back and forth, holding on to the line with just one hand as she grins down at me. “And then,” she says quietly, “you just press the button again.” The line retracts, hoisting her up until she’s close enough to the pipe to pull herself on.
“Where did you get that thing?”
“Scissor. It’s just like her arms, but miniature. Here.” She tosses me the object and I fumble for it, almost falling off the ledge of the alcove and into the field of tacky pods.
“Awww, come on!” I whisper-shout. “What if I didn’t catch it?”
“But ya did. Now get a running start and don’t forget to press the center with your thumb. That’s what activates it.”
I return to the back of the alcove. I hold the object—the frog whipper—in my open palm. This seems like a crazy idea. But then, so does breaking into City Hall and stealing my brother from the UD government.
“Here goes,” I whisper, and push off the wall.
I get a good, fast start. When I reach the alcove’s ledge, I press the whipper so hard I feel like I might mash it into pieces. I leap, copy Vee’s movements, swing my arm out.
Zing. The line sails through the air, ties itself up, but in an instant, I can tell there’s too much slack. Instead of swinging in the air, I’m falling to the ground, and fast.
“Trout!” Vee leans over the edge of the pipe. “Stop pressing the center!”
I do as she says. The line finally snaps back. I’m two inches from the floor and a glimmering tacky pod. It emits a faint humming sound, like the hover rails but ten times quieter. Deadlier.
I’m upside-down, dangling like a spider with one leg wrapped around the line. “What the chop?”
Vee winces as she leans over the pipe, her single earring dangling like a knot of Spanish moss. “I forgot to tell you to press once, ya know, to get enough line out. Sorry!”
“That would have been nice to know!”
“Yeah. Yeah. Now press the center again to retract it.”
Sweat rolls from my forehead and drips straight down to the floor. The droplets hit a tacky pod and the humming noise powers up to a full-on whummmp. The sweat beads tremble, like they’re trying to dissolve into a puddle, but can’t.
And then, the whummmp goes silent and the sweat flattens out. I blink. I’m trying to figure out what that means when two male voices carry down the hall.
It means the tacky pods have been deactivated.
“Retract!” Vee whispers. “Retract!”
I fumble with the device, jamming my finger into it until I realize it’s the wrong side I’m trying to activate. The voices get closer. A drop of sweat rolls into the corner of my eye and burns. My arms start to shake. My head is pounding from all the blood rushing to it.
I twist the whipper around and mash my thumb into it. The line grows hot and retracts. I untangle my leg as the line lurches toward the ceiling. When I reach the pipe, Vee grabs my arm, hauls me back, and presses a finger to her lips. I nod, clamping my mouth shut even though I’m breathing so hard I feel like I’m suffocating.
The men round the corner. I can just make out the tops of their heads through the gaps in the pipework. One man is short and dark-haired and wearing a blue jacket. The other is tall, blond, with a booming voice.
I know that voice. It’s Mr. Rix! Tellie’s dad.
I freeze every muscle, praying they don’t look up. Vee is sprawled over the blue pipe and one of the smaller red ones. Will the red one hold her?
“You have to admit,” the shorter man says, “Sandra’s tactics may be brutal at times, but they’re effective. Why do you think Callo made her Head of Congress?”
Sandra Hopper. That’s Beard’s real name. The same woman who wants my dad to turn himself in.
“The greater population of the UD loves her,” the man continues. “She looks as innocent as a kitten.”
“I don’t care what the population thinks of her,” Mr. Rix says. “I’m not sure I agree with her planned attack simply to launch a new war campaign.”
“Congress and the lower District councils won’t approve it without a little push, and we can’t sit idly anymore. The Meta-Rise is real, Wesson. We know that group of renegade bots in Old New York are planning something, and the longer we keep our heads in the sand, the worse it’ll be. The bigger the war will be. This is the best option.” He scratches the back of his neck. “We never should have implemented the ThinkChip in the first place. None of this would have happened. We’d still have cheap bot labor all over the country and pockets lined with Machinery Tax money. The war has run us dry and our economy is tanking. As soon as we have an agreement from all Districts, we can strike quickly and this whole thing will be over. And you know what that means?”
Mr. Rix sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know.”
“We put bots back where they belong,” the other man answers anyway. “They belong in boiler rooms and factories and grocery stores and toll booths. Unthinking, unfeeling machines. Because that’s what they are.”
Mr. Rix shakes his head. “Let’s stop talking about this. I’m starting to get a headache and I haven’t had a drink in four hours.”
The other man chuckles. “Fair enough. I heard the Tralon has a new kind of Irish liquor, imported daily. Rich, throaty kind of stuff that’ll . . .”
Their voices fade away when they round another corner and disappear from sight.
Vee and I share a look.
“Did you hear that?” I say.
Vee’s eyes tighten with suspicion. “Sounds like they want to start Bot Wars part two.”
“Are they planning on attacking those renegade bots? In New York?”
Vee thinks for a second. “Maybe.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
“Not really. I’ve heard my dad mention them, but nothing about them being renegades. That’s kind of a funny word, when you say it out loud.”
“Someone should warn them if they’re going to be attacked.”
Vee nods. “We have a while, at least. Sounds like Beard needs Congress and District approval first, and she’s got her mind on other things right now.”
I snort. “Yeah, like ruining my family.”
I make a mental note to tell Dad later, after Po is rescued. Right now, I need to get out of this tunnel.
Vee slinks off like a slug and I slink off after her.
• • •
We make it out of the sterile white tunnel by following the pipes into another maintenance room. Vee points at a set of metal rungs that rise upward through the ceiling to a hatch.
“That’ll take us to ground level. We’ll be two blocks away from that museum you told Lox to
meet us at.”
I breathe with relief. “Great. Because I’m tired. And hungry.”
Vee rolls her eyes. “You’re not a very good adventurer, are you?”
I glower at her. She snickers and we head up the ladder cemented straight into the wall. At the top, I turn a circular handle on the hatch and it glides open easily. Cool, fresh air rushes down the shaft and I suck it in.
I’m the first to climb out of the ground into a park. A fountain gurgles somewhere behind us. The wooden benches are empty this time of night and the lampposts create pools of light on the cement. In the distance, the hover rails glow in the dark.
Vee taps her Link and holds it in front of us. It displays an image of the city with directions telling us how to reach the Superhero Museum.
Go straight. Then left, then right.
I get excited, thinking about seeing Lox after a few weeks. I miss the wrenchhead. Not that I’ll tell him that.
Vee and I stick close together. We turn the final corner and a large, sand-colored brick building comes into view. “That’s it,” Vee says.
Two holo banners hang from the roof of the museum. One is a 3-D rendition of last year’s Batman movie costume. The other is a 2-D announcement of the newest Trakor Comics installment opening next Tuesday.
Too bad I’m not here to actually see the museum’s displays. Maybe next time, I tell myself. If there is a next time.
Vee points at the parking lot on the side of the building and the lone car parked there. “Is that Lox?”
“Yeah, that’s him!” I jog across the street and pound on his window, making him jump sky high.
I blow into a riot of laughter and Lox narrows his eyes as he climbs out.
“Geez, oil licker! Don’t do that to me.” He clutches at his chest. “I could have had an involuntary heart attack.”
Vee frowns. “Because there’s such a thing as a voluntary heart attack?”
Lox smoothes back his crazy blond hair and looks from Vee to me. “Who’s she?”
My laughter trails off. “This is Vee. She’s a friend. So that means be nice.”
“Pssssh. Nice is my seventh sense.”
I shake my head and say to Vee, “You’ll get used to him eventually.”
“I doubt that.”
“What’s up with your hair?” Lox says. “A second ago it was red. Now it’s blue.”
“It’s transive dye.”
“Transie . . . I don’t get it.”
I skirt around the front of the car to the passenger side. “Can we go?”
Lox opens the back door and bows. “After you, milady.”
Vee arches an eyebrow before climbing in.
It isn’t until I settle into the wide, cushy seat next to Lox and he commands the car to play “something wrenched and jamming but with soul and beat” that I realize just how much I missed him.
The car pulls out of the parking lot and I tell it to head east, to Mercury Street. I only vaguely remember how to get to Dekker’s. What I do know is it’s somewhere around Mercury Street. I’m hoping I’ll see something familiar once we’re in the neighborhood.
Lox leans over and slaps my back. “What took you guys so long? I was starting to get worried about you.”
“We got hung up,” I say.
“Well, Trout got hung up,” Vee adds, and I can practically hear the smirk in her voice.
Lox pops a piece of gum in his mouth, but doesn’t bother to offer us any. “I need to hear this story.”
“No way!” I tell the car to turn right. “It’s a boring story anyway.”
Vee snorts.
“So where are we going?” Lox asks. “I thought we were going to the museum.”
“It’s closed. And this isn’t a vacation. It’s a mission.”
The houses are starting to look familiar and I tell the car to turn left. As soon as we’re on Tunston Street, I see the outline of the old fire station up ahead.
“There it is.” I point through the windshield and both Lox and Vee lean forward for a better look.
Lox chomps on his gum. “Whose house is that?”
Since he’s a huge fan of Dekker’s, I don’t want to spoil the surprise just yet.
“Wait and see.”
THIRTY-ONE
“AARON DEKKER?” Lox screeches after I introduce everyone once we’re safely inside Dekker’s living room.
Dekker must be used to this kind of reaction by now, being as famous as he is. He ignores Lox, shoves his hands in his pants pockets, and leans against the back of the couch. “Please tell me there is a good reason for your being here, little dude. Without LT or your dad.”
“Umm . . .”
“Aaron Dekker! Is that really him?” Lox’s eyes get bigger and his jaw sags lower.
Dekker pats his stomach. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s me.” He’s wearing a baggy navy blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans with holes torn in the knees. Thin copper wire runs back and forth through the holes, suturing them closed. I read on the Net that soldiers on the front lines used crazy things to repair their clothing when nothing else was available. Some big fashion designer in 1st District took the idea and made it popular. I would climb Mt. Hood for a pair. They’re too expensive for me to ever buy on my own.
“So tell me again why you’re here?” Dekker asks.
Lox gets control of himself, but not his curiosity. He circles the room, picking up random things as he goes. Dekker hurries behind him, fixing whatever Lox moves out of place.
“We need your help getting back into the UD,” I say, hoping he’s too preoccupied with picking up after Lox to fully digest what I’m asking.
No such luck.
“Whoa, whoa, little dude. Repeat that?”
“Err . . . we need your help—”
“Yeah, I heard you, and the answer is why would I do that?”
“That’s not an answer, it’s a question,” Vee points out, and Dekker shoots her an annoyed look.
I take a deep breath. “Because I want to rescue my brother. And my dad and Vee’s dad are going to turn themselves in in order to get Po back, so if I rescue him first, they won’t have to and we’ll win.”
Lox picks up a long, thin remote control and starts tapping at the screen. Dekker snatches it out of his hand and puts it back on the table, then taps it three times.
“I’m all for a hero’s mission, but do you have any idea what your dad will do to me if he realizes I helped you?”
No, I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t thought about a lot of things other than The Plan. Because now that I see Lox here, all the way in Texas in the house of Aaron Dekker planning to drive me to Brack to commit a crime, I realize how much non-thinking I’ve done.
What if we get caught? What if Lox is punished because of me? And what about Vee?
My shoulders sink. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we should go back to Bot Territory and let the adults take care of everything like they said they would.
And what if your dad turns himself in, a voice in my head says, and you really really never see him again?
What if the UD doesn’t honor the bargain and they arrest Dad and keep Po?
My throat constricts like a tightly coiled snake. I’d be alone. Alone for the rest of my lame life. I don’t have any grandparents. I know I’ve got an aunt in London, but I’ve never met her, and she’s never shown any interest in getting to know me and Po. So why would she want to take me in?
I’ve got no one.
I have to do this, but I have to protect my friends too. As best I can.
“Dad won’t know you helped me,” I say to Dekker. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
“He’ll know either way,” Vee says quietly.
“I’ll tell him
I called Tellie and asked for her help. She may be the enemy’s daughter, but she’s still my friend. Dad might buy it.” I take a step forward and straighten my spine so I’m an inch taller at least. “Besides, if we rescue Po, it’s not going to matter. Dad will be so geared out, he’ll totally forget about everything else.”
I press my hands together like I’m praying. “Please, Dek. Please? This is life or death.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his rainbow hair. “Little dude, you know how to pull on the heartstrings, don’t you?”
“He’s got that innocent yet adorable look,” Vee says.
I scowl at her. Nothing adorable about that.
“Fine,” Dekker says. “When do you need to leave?”
“Well, trying to break into a government building at night would be risky.” I pace the room. “Even though it’ll be dark, and there will be less people, there’s probably more security in place.”
Dekker nods. “Go on.”
“So, that means we should leave early in the morning so we can get into Brack and break in to save Po soon after the building opens.”
“And how do you plan to break in?” Dekker asks.
Everyone is looking at me again. Well, except Lox, who is staring at a metal pelican sculpture on one of Dekker’s shelves like he’s trying to decide if it’s really a sculpture or a robot in disguise.
I dig in my bag and pull out Tellie’s Net-tag. “With this. It has extra clearance on it. It belonged to a friend whose dad is a congressman.”
“You mean Tellie,” Lox says, still staring at the pelican.
“Yeah. Tellie.”
Dekker folds his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you worried about getting your friend in trouble?”
I shake my head. “Tellie is clever. She’ll just say I stole it and everyone will buy it, considering what I’ve done lately. Or, what I’m about to do.”
“What if the tag doesn’t work anymore?” he asks.
“It does. She said it did.”
“She could have been lying. She is the daughter of a congressman, after all.”