by Greg Pace
“Dude, that’s not cool!” Kwan barked. Malcolm, who had been keeping to himself on the other side of the arena, flew past Kwan, holding out his limbs to create an air current in his wake. The pieces floated off with him, leaving Kwan with none. Malcolm began grabbing them and trying to fit them into his key as fast as possible.
As Malcolm continued to float past us, the pieces near us also floated off with him. And the tactic was working: His key was soon almost done, and we would have to chase him just for the chance to try more pieces.
But I had an idea. I floated to the wall nearest me, put my feet against it, and propelled myself forward with all I had. As I floated past Darla, I shouted, “Grab on!” and held out a hand for her. “Trust me,” I added. “It’s the only way!” She hesitated but finally obliged. I wedged my half-completed key under the lip of my helmet, keeping it under my chin so my other hand would be free.
“That way.” I pointed to Tyler. He was still moving along the wall, trying to get to more pieces, though there were hardly any left on his side of the arena.
“Tyler, push off the wall as hard as you can as we pass, then take Darla’s hand,” I instructed.
“NOW!” I yelled as we reached him. His fingertips latched with Darla’s at the last second, and Tyler’s bulk propelled the three of us forward with even more momentum.
“Kwan, grab my other hand,” I called as we passed him. He gave me a glare, but he joined us. With the four of us side by side, we looked like a flying wall. Malcolm, who was now surrounded by the cloud of puzzle pieces, was only one piece away from completing his key.
“Arms out!” I shouted, and Kwan and Tyler extended themselves. As we floated at Malcolm, he had to duck to avoid us. We took all the pieces along with us, leaving Malcolm with none. Then we let go of each other’s hands and went back to work.
Darla completed her key first, and a little green light blinked on the end of it. On the opposite wall, a panel slid open to reveal her keyhole. Kwan finished his key next, and then Tyler and I finished ours at almost exactly the same time. More panels slid open. Even Malcolm had quickly caught up and finished his key. We propelled ourselves forward, and all five of us inserted our keys to reveal a gyroscope for each of us. Part two of the race had officially begun.
19
113:35:18
THE GYROSCOPES looked like skeletal twelve-foot-tall spheres: a small steering area at their centers, surrounded by four large steel rings that could spin independently to generate energy.
I climbed into the center of mine and leaned my back against a padded panel. A handlebar apparatus in front of me, similar to the steering mechanism inside X-Calibur, would allow me to launch. I grabbed it and pushed forward. There was a THWUNK beneath me, the sound of two metal clasps coming apart to release my gyroscope from its platform. It rolled forward and floated into the arena airspace. I realized quickly that the steering mechanism wasn’t there only to steer left or right. I had to use it to keep the sphere balanced, as well, like steering a rowboat on a choppy lake.
I looked to my left and noticed that Malcolm was moving faster than the rest of us, his gyroscope’s rings spinning so fast that their blur made me dizzy. Then I saw why. He was pedaling with his feet. I looked down at my own feet and spotted a mechanism similar to the gears of a bicycle. With a determined sneer, I pedaled with all I had, but in my eagerness I leaned too far forward, and my gyroscope almost spun out of control, top over bottom. I barely saved myself from careening off-course. Then I worked on building momentum.
“Yeah, baby! The race is on!” Kwan shouted as the rest of the knights figured out how to make these things fly.
Tyler’s beefy legs and arms moved with unbridled power as he grunted and snarled like he was in a fistfight with his gyroscope. He and Malcolm were neck and neck, with Kwan close behind and Darla and me trailing, as all of us headed toward the landing platforms.
BAM! Tyler made it to his platform first, but he was so focused on pedaling like a maniac that he missed his mark and collided with the wall. A second later, Malcolm arrived at his own landing pad perfectly. Surprise, surprise. Malcolm had won.
20
110:51:59
AFTER THE RACE, everyone who worked for the RTR ate in the impressive cafeteria. The tables and chairs were crafted out of sleek steel, the floor was marble, and one entire wall was glass, with a breathtaking (though fake) view of mountains and a lake.
Malcolm assured us that the items in the food line were popular English dishes—stuff like “bangers and mash” (mashed potatoes and sausage), fish-and-chips (French fries), shepherd’s pie (more mashed potatoes), and black pudding (more sausage). With the end of the world upon us, I guess the RTR thought we needed our fill of mashed potatoes and sausage.
“One of everything that doesn’t include meat,” Tyler ordered the machines serving food. “No, wait—two of everything.”
“Why are you vegetarian again?” Kwan asked, helping himself to a heaping pile of shepherd’s pie.
“I respect living things. If you ever wrestle an animal, I bet you’ll become a vegetarian, too.”
Kwan laughed. “I surf, bro. That’s like wrestling the ocean. And I still love hamburgers.” He turned to me. “Too much of a joke for you, Earnhardt? Are you going to run and tell on me again?”
Tyler sighed. “Leave him alone, Kwan. Ben’s cool with me.”
I gave Tyler a quick nod as we all sat down, but I felt weird about it. The most important battle mankind has ever faced was approaching, and I couldn’t deal with a thirteen-year-old surfer? I wondered if King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and even Pellinore and the rest of the original knights had squabbled like this. I doubted it.
“Nice job flying the gyroscope,” I said to Malcolm as our eyes met. I still knew so little about him. A curt nod was all I got in return.
“Do you have experience with that kind of thing?” I wondered.
“What? Preparing to fight aliens?” he asked sarcastically. But then he lightened up a bit. “My family has military experience . . .”
“Indeed they do,” Pellinore said as he and Merlin entered the cafeteria. “Going back several generations.” He clapped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, but Malcolm remained strangely quiet.
“Interesting strategy in the zero-g arena, Ben.” Pellinore’s eyes were on me now. “Unfortunately, if you had been in outer space, you would have gotten yourself, Kwan, Tyler, and Darla killed.”
So much for getting a compliment. Kwan and Tyler were staring at me with wide eyes.
“How come?” Darla asked from the end of the table.
“To free up your hands, you put your puzzle keys between your helmet and chin, Benjamin,” Merlin explained softly. “That would have breached your helmet’s seal. There’s no oxygen in outer space. Suffocation is a terribly painful way to expire.”
“Now,” Pellinore continued. “It’s essential that we use the time left to the best of our—” But he stopped when a cluster of techs rushed into the cafeteria, their faces brimming with worry.
“One moment, knights.” He and Merlin huddled and whispered with the techs, and we discreetly moved closer. Maybe we didn’t get along so great yet, and maybe I had inadvertently “killed” three of them earlier, but we were still in this together.
“What do you think that’s about?” Kwan asked Malcolm.
“Can’t be sure. But something tells me it’s not good,” was Malcolm’s reply.
We watched as Pellinore gave orders, his expression grim but determined. The techs nodded and rushed out of the cafeteria. Then . . .
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Five tiny beeps coming from our countdown watches—nine hours had been wiped away from the time left until the aliens arrived. Merlin and Pellinore joined us again, eyes wide with new focus.
“Change of plans, knights,” Pellinore said urgently, holding out
a fist. “Our tracking systems are not without their faults, especially when our targets are still in deep space. Hopefully as our enemies get closer to Earth’s atmosphere, these . . . adjustments . . . will be taken care of.”
Hopefully?
Merlin added, “We’ve been forced to speed up our schedule, which means your first foray into our flight simulators will occur immediately. The X-Calibur prototypes, and X-Calibur itself, will follow shortly.”
“Come. We’re going to the BSR,” Pellinore commanded. As we followed, I shot Merlin a questioning glance.
“Battle Simulation Room,” he whispered.
21
101:38:34
NOW THAT WE HAD LOST nine hours of prep time, there was an even greater sense of urgency; every second that passed brought us one step closer to sitting behind the controls of X-Calibur.
We quickly arrived at two large doors, which slid open to reveal what looked like nothing—literally nothing. No color, no shape, as if someone had taken outer space and then erased every single star. As we stepped into the void, Pellinore pulled a remote control out of his pocket and hit a button. “Let’s get you into your training pods,” he said.
Five perfectly round pods rose out of the darkness. They weren’t very large, maybe five feet across, and practically invisible.
Pellinore pointed to a little microphone on his tie. “My voice will be transmitted to all of you, and, as always, you can speak back to me and each other. An open line of communication will be crucial in battle. Each pod has a different color weapon, so you’ll be able to distinguish your own laser fire from everyone else’s.”
Malcolm quickly headed for one of the pods and slipped through a hatch on its side. Kwan, Tyler, Darla, and I made our way to the remaining four pods, putting on our helmets along the way. With a new sense of dread, I ducked into one, and the hatch swished closed. The inside was cramped, with barely enough space for a pilot seat and steering controls.
“Everyone ready?” Pellinore asked through our helmets. We all quickly chimed in.
“We had planned on Professor Barrington giving you a thorough weaponry tutorial, but with today’s . . . developments, the only way to learn is trial by fire.”
“Are these lasers real?” I asked, slipping into my seat. “There’s no chance we can really hurt each other, right?”
“What makes you think you’ll be battling each other?” Pellinore countered. “It is just a simulation. But don’t get too comfortable.”
As I strapped myself in, he added, “The purpose of this exercise is simple, knights: to make your mistakes now, before you fly an actual craft. Your mission: destroy as many alien ships as possible. And don’t get hit.”
My heart pounded. In the confines of the pod, it sounded like thunder. I had to push aside the kid I was just a day ago, the one who had to hide inside a smelly gym locker for fear of being pummeled by classmates. I had to find another Ben Stone, one who was ready and able to do his part to save the world.
I was pumped and ready. And then . . .
Everything went pitch black. And I mean everything.
Except for my steering console and the two floor panels beneath me, which glowed in neon green. I grabbed the controls just as the void outside lit up to reveal a jaw-dropping replication of outer space.
“Bloody brilliant,” Malcolm muttered.
My pod began to slowly drift forward, and I felt an instant sense of weightlessness. The experience in the zero-g arena would definitely pay off here.
I spotted something in the distance, and the sight put a lump in my throat. A fleet of alien spaceships, dozens of them, lurked in the distance like a band of metallic sharks. I recognized the shapes from Barrington’s lectures.
“Go time,” Malcolm hissed, and I watched as a storm of blazing red laser fire blasted out at the approaching aliens. Their sleek sizzle was so real that they blinded me at first. A split second later, yellow, blue, and white lasers cut through the darkness.
I squeezed my weapon triggers, and green lasers rocketed out from beneath my pod. I hadn’t been prepared for the sharp kickback from the laser guns, and I was jolted by my pod shuddering. Some of the simulated alien ships exploded on contact with our weapons, disappearing a second later.
Darla is going to kick serious butt at this, I thought. It’s the greatest video game ever.
The remaining alien ships darted away from each other, and in the blink of an eye there were twice as many of them, coming at us now. I yanked to the left and my pod spun sideways. I found myself looking at a whole other batch of aliens bearing down on me from all directions. Startled, I hammered my laser triggers again. My pod kept shuddering with every blast I unleashed, and I was getting hit now too, which was causing my pod to shake even more.
I squinted into the glare of the alien lasers as my mind raced through our previous tests. I felt a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek, the muscles in my arms burning as I tried to hold onto my triggers and control my pod.
“Get outta there, Ben!” Tyler yelled.
“Easier said than done,” I grunted.
“Has anybody noticed that I’m kicking major butt up here?!” Kwan asked excitedly.
I pulled back on my steering controls as hard as I could, hoping to rise above the storm of alien firepower coming my way. But my right foot hit one of the glowing green panels on the floor. With the sudden surge of juice, the pod began to spin wildly. Dazed, I rolled upside down, then right side up, over and over as I continued to get pummeled. In my panic, I couldn’t seem to find the brake.
“No, no, no, no,” I chanted, spinning faster and faster. I released the steering controls as my stomach did somersaults and I squeezed my eyes shut. I was in sensory overload, and then . . .
It stopped.
I opened my eyes. The view of space and aliens and everything else had disappeared. The simulation was over.
“Somebody get us more quarters!” Kwan laughed. “Let’s go again!”
I took a few steady breaths, fighting back nausea. My pod came to a complete halt as something popped up within my windshield. It was a digital scoreboard with each of the knights’ names, kills, and hits taken.
“We’ve got work to do, knights. Some of you more than others,” Pellinore announced.
Malcolm, whose bars were fire-engine red, had clearly done the best. After him came Kwan, then Tyler, then me and Darla in a virtual tie for last place.
“Sweet job, Malcolm,” Kwan said. “But I’ll get you next time.”
“Doubt it,” Malcolm replied coolly.
With a groan, I popped open my seat belt, eager to get out of the cramped pod. But as I stood up, my legs felt like melting rubber. I yanked my helmet away from my mouth just in time to double over and hurl chunks right there on the pod floor.
“Oh, man! Call the Keebler elves!” Kwan cried. “Somebody just lost his cookies!”
Everyone had heard.
I closed my eyes and plopped back down into the pilot seat, wishing I were dead.
22
099:13:41
“HEY, WHAT’S Ben’s favorite animal?” Kwan asked.
“I don’t know. What?” Tyler played along.
“A yak.” Kwan chuckled. “Get it? It’s an animal, but it’s also a word for—”
“A joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it, moron,” I griped.
Malcolm led the way back to our rooms, with Kwan and Tyler right behind him. Darla and I followed. Any admiration Kwan had for me was long gone, and I wasn’t even sure Tyler thought very highly of me anymore, either.
“What would we call Ben if he had wings and pointy ears and fought crime?” Kwan continued. I answered before he could offer up the punch line himself.
“Barf-man,” I said glumly. “Hilarious. We’re so lucky we met the world’s only surfer-comedian before we all go ka-bo
om.”
Kwan scowled over his shoulder and kept walking. Darla gave me a tired smirk. She looked drained.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, but she said nothing and looked away. “I thought you would have done better in the pods.”
“Hey,” she turned on me, her voice low. “You’re the one who barfed, remember?”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Ahead of us, Kwan slapped Tyler on the back. “How’s it feel to be beaten by someone half your size?”
Tyler shrugged. “I beat you in the jar-a-scope thing, remember? ’Cause I had more room to breathe. Those pods were so tiny.”
I looked over at Darla, and a bunch of memories hurtled into my brain: Darla, gazing fearfully down the narrow tunnel at the start of our HQ tour. Darla, lingering at the open door of X-Calibur. The fear in Darla’s eyes right before she got into her BSR pod.
“You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?” I whispered to her, and the instant panic on her face told me I was right.
She moved closer and grabbed my arm. “Don’t tell the others,” she pleaded. In front of us, Kwan glanced over his shoulder, so she quickly let go.
“I would never tell,” I whispered back. “But are you going to be okay in an actual ship?”
She shook her head, flustered. “I don’t know. This is all a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why don’t we tell Merlin or Pellinore? Maybe they can help you—”
“No. Please. They’ll send me home. Although, I don’t know, maybe they were wrong to bring me here. I’m not cut out for this.”
No wonder she’d been keeping to herself. Her shoulders sagged, and for the first time since meeting her, I saw the real Darla.
“I thought I could overcome it at first,” she whispered, more to herself than me. “I wanted to believe I could be great, but . . . I’m not great. Not at all.”
She sounded just like I felt. Video game champion or not, we weren’t so different, were we?