by Greg Pace
“Try the brownies,” Ivy suggested. “Emma made them. They’re fantastic.”
“Emma?”
“The woman who watches me. At home.”
Emma isn’t doing a very good job, I thought.
I bit into one of the brownies. My stomach, which had been growling a moment ago, was now doing backflips and screaming for more.
“Wow,” I mumbled through a full mouth. “These are good.”
“Have all you want. I’ve got plenty. Water?”
Before I could answer, she hurled a bottled water my way. I barely stopped it from taking off half my face. As I ate, Ivy sat down on her sleeping bag and opened her laptop. I walked over and kneeled a few inches from the sleeping bag, keeping my distance. She glanced my way, considered me for a moment, then went back to her laptop.
“I picked this spot because the Wi-Fi signal is strongest here. Download speeds off the charts,” she explained, typing away.
I fumbled for something to say. “I uh, think the coffee shop where I live is getting Wi-Fi soon.”
“Oh, yeah? Starbucks?”
I shook my head.
“Coffee Bean?”
“No. Joe’s Coffee.” I wiped a chocolate smudge on my shirt.
“Hmm. I’ve never heard of that one.”
“The guy who owns it is named Joe.”
She smiled as if I were joking, but when I didn’t smile back, she murmured “oh” and went back to her screen. To her left I noticed a green iPod.
“That’s an old one,” she said when she saw me eyeing it. “I use it up here so if it falls over the side and breaks, I won’t miss it.”
“But it looks brand new,” I said, leaning in for a closer look.
She handed it to me. “It’s nine months old. They make a much better one now. I have a couple of them at home. I usually listen to music on my iPad or iPhone now, anyway.”
“Sure. Makes sense,” I muttered, eyeing the iPod. My parents had planned to buy me a used iPod for Christmas the year before Dad died, but by the time they went to Smiley’s Pawn Shop, someone else had offered a better price for it.
“What do you like to listen to?” she asked.
“Mostly CDs.” I couldn’t look Ivy in the eye because I was remembering the sound of Dad singing in the mirror each day before work.
“You can have that iPod if you want it.” She said it like she was offering me a potato chip. But I handed it back to her.
“That’s okay, but thanks. I will take a second brownie, though.” I dug into another delicious mouthful. “Does your mom cook too?”
Ivy scoffed. “No way. Mother’s skills are going on exotic vacations and spending insane amounts of money.”
“Like family vacations?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of Percival Pellinore sitting on a beach and sipping a drink with a little paper umbrella in it.
“No. My parents are separated.”
“Is that like . . . divorced?”
“They might as well be.” Ivy sighed. “Do you know my father never even intended to tell me he was the Percival Pellinore? I only found out because I spied on him and my mother when they had the conversation.”
“What’s the conversation?”
“The one where he told her he’d been alive for hundreds of years already. You should have seen her face.” Ivy gave a harsh laugh and pushed the laptop away. “She was ready to have him hauled off to the loony bin. But then he proved it to her. He had everything ready—documents, photos. It’s funny, it would be so simple for just about anyone to discover who he really is, but nobody would ever believe it. He can hide out in the open.”
At least Pellinore was trying to do something good with all his money and power, and I respected that. He’d give anything to protect Earth.
“If my father had his way, I’d be locked in a stone tower like some fairy tale. It’s maddening. Just because he’s immortal doesn’t mean I am. I’ve got one normal life. I think I should be allowed to make the most of it, don’t you?”
“Totally.” I nodded, then leaned back on my hands, getting comfortable. I had forgotten all about our amazing surroundings. The endless pipes, the top of the BSR sphere, all of it. All that mattered was Ivy.
“By the way, I thought it was big of you to call Kwan out earlier for not taking all this seriously. And how you pushed Tyler to participate in class, too. He’s not Einstein, but he’s got more smarts than he gives himself credit for,” Ivy said with a little smile.
“Thanks.” My cheeks got warm.
She nodded to her laptop. “I know everything there is to know about Tyler. And Kwan, and Darla, and Malcolm, too. I’ve been hacking into my father’s secret files for years. If he knows it, I know it. You’re the only one who’s still a mystery. Because Merlin brought you here.”
“I guess I’m just not sure why Merlin picked me. If you’ve read about the other knights, then you already know they’ve been . . . special. Champions at something. And Malcolm . . .” I just shook my head, unable (or unwilling) to put Malcolm’s apparent greatness into words.
Ivy held up a hand. “You don’t have to say a thing about Malcolm, believe me. All the girls at the school we attend think he’s the greatest thing since popcorn.”
“But you don’t?” I dared to ask.
She reached for a chip and popped it in her mouth with a satisfied crunch. “He’s a little too . . . serious. I suppose I respect him more than I like him.”
I couldn’t suppress a tiny grin. But she was staring at me again, trying to figure me out. I wondered if I was here, in her “home away from home,” because I was the only mystery left for her to solve.
She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sure Merlin had his reasons for bringing you here. Don’t pull a Tyler and sell yourself short, okay? You do that and you’re sure to fail miserably.”
I nodded. “Thanks. I better go back now, though. Your dad’s having us fly the prototypes soon.”
“I know. It’s been pushed back,” she said, pointing to a schedule on the laptop. “Something about the training course needing a few more obstacles.”
I headed to the ladder but stopped. “You’re already a pro up there. Any flying tips?” I hoped.
“Yeah. Never forget that your brain can do several things at once if you allow it to. You’ve got to trust your mind. Don’t strangle whatever skills you have by getting too worked up over any one detail.”
“So you’re telling me not to think too much, huh?”
She smiled. “Exactly. And whatever you do, keep your steering measured and controlled, or you’ll find yourself in a spin. I’m going to assume you’re not interested in vomiting again.”
I winced. “You saw that?”
“I heard it. I was listening in on the comm system channel.”
She performed an unflattering impression of me right before I puked—“No, no, no, no . . .”—then punctuated it with a “SPLAT!”
“Very funny.” I scowled, and we both laughed. “You know, it’s crazy you’re not going to be flying a ship,” I added.
The look in her eyes was heartbreaking. “Princess in a stone tower,” she said softly. “That’s me.”
26
087:52:19
JUST AS IVY had predicted, we woke up to the news that we’d be flying the prototypes later than expected. After a quick breakfast from Arlo’s food cart (a single bowl of cornflakes, in case I managed to make myself nauseated again), we headed to the gym and trained while waiting for Merlin and Pellinore to take us to the ships.
Before long, I was getting my butt handed to me by a spar-bot. Earlier, Darla and I had secretly switched training helmets with each other. When she saw all of the adjustments I’d made to the inside of mine last night, she’d looked downright scared.
“How is this going to help me?” she’d whisper
ed frantically.
“I’ll explain later,” I promised. “You just have to trust me.”
WHAM! The spar-bot bearing down on me whacked me in the ribs with its sword, its blue eyes aglow with a burning desire to destroy me. Even though my sparring outfit was padded, the blow still knocked the wind out of me.
“You really have some anger issues,” I grunted, then swung back with both hands on my sword handle. The overgrown toaster easily dodged the swing and whacked me in my other side. I gasped as spittle flew out of my mouth.
Malcolm and his spar-bot were moving about the gym as they traded impressive sword moves. Did I regret spending time with Ivy last night instead of practicing in here with the other knights? Nope. But it still sucked playing catch-up, especially when it meant the rest of the knights got to watch me cower in the corner while a spar-bot practically beat me to death with a fake sword.
“New strategy!” I shouted. I dropped to my knees and scrambled between the spar-bot’s legs, emerging on the other side and running off. The shiny warrior whirled, its lighted eyes piercing.
“You’re supposed to fight it, Earnhardt!” Kwan yelled with a chuckle. “Not play hide-and-seek with it!”
As I ran across the gym, I could feel my sparring outfit sticking to me, my entire body coated in sweat. Sword running was apparently even more of a workout than swordfighting. I reached the opposite wall and turned to see my spar-bot charging at me like some crazed Energizer bunny.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I muttered to myself as the spar-bot came at me.
WHOOSH! The spar-bot swung the sword in a wide uppercut, but I dodged to my right and it missed me. Thrilled and surprised, I turned, raised my sword, and—WHAM!—struck the spar-bot’s back. There was an electronic buh-bloop as I finally scored some points against it.
“You want some more?” I challenged, but the spar-bot spun low and hit me behind the knees. I went flying backward and landed on my back with a jarring thud, gasping for breath.
“Ugh. I think I just popped a lung,” I wheezed.
As I looked up into the glowing stare of my triumphant opponent, it gently put one metallic knee on my chest and stuck the tip of its sword against my throat.
“I win,” it said flatly. It almost sounded like a computerized version of Pellinore.
“Rematch?” I gulped. The spar-bot hesitated, its sword still at my throat.
“I accept,” it replied and stood.
“Lucky me,” I groaned. I pulled myself up for another go, but the gym’s door opened and Pellinore entered, crisply dressed as always, with Merlin right behind him in brown corduroy pants and a long-sleeved thermal shirt that emphasized his scrawniness.
“Who’s ready to pilot an actual ship?” Pellinore asked.
“I am, sir!” Malcolm called back. I glanced at Merlin and he gave me a nod. Even after the barf fiasco in the BSR, he still seemed to believe in me.
“Me too,” I told Pellinore as I stepped forward.
“No more accidents, I hope?” he asked me sternly.
I fought back a blush and tried my best impression of Malcolm. “No, sir! All good! I only had one bowl of cereal for breakfast! Sir!”
Merlin smirked while Malcolm scrunched his nose and Pellinore eyed me like I’d lost my mind.
“Very well. Get into your training jumpsuits and grab your helmets, knights. Let’s go do some flying.”
27
086:22:34
LINED UP by the four X-Calibur imitations, holding our helmets and buzzing with adrenaline, we prepared to finally try what we’d been brought here to do: fly. A million thoughts raced through my head as I tried to give Darla a reassuring smile. She was nervously clutching the helmet I had given her. Was I delusional to help her? What if my helmet adjustments didn’t work, and she crashed in front of us all? Were we really ready for this?
Stop thinking so much.
“We’re going to get you airborne two at a time,” Pellinore explained. Then he and Merlin stood aside to let Professor Barrington take the lead.
“Once the first two prove capable of handling their spacecraft, we’ll put the second two up,” Barrington growled, chewing on his trusty nail. “Your goal is to fly laps. Nothing more.”
“I’ve had the techs install temporary guards over the laser triggers, so firing won’t be an option for you, anyway,” Pellinore added.
“What about X-Calibur?” Malcolm asked. “Who gets to fly that?”
“No one—” Merlin began, but Pellinore interrupted him.
“Not yet. But prove yourself worthy, Malcolm, and X-Calibur will be yours soon enough.”
“If we go up in pairs, that’ll leave someone out, right?” Kwan asked. “There’s five of us, and only four ships.”
Pellinore nodded and was about to answer when Darla suddenly offered, “I can go last.”
We all turned to look at her, and I spotted disappointment on Pellinore’s face. The last thing he wanted was a kid who didn’t want to be here. Darla was only drawing more attention to herself, and if my helmet trick was going to work, we needed to keep it under the radar.
“If that makes things easier, I mean,” Darla added uncertainly.
“Ben and I can go up together,” said Malcolm. “If that’s okay with him, of course.”
He wasn’t wasting any time trying to make sure I looked worse than I already did.
“Of course it’s okay,” I said firmly. “I’m ready.”
“Excellent!” Pellinore declared. “After that you’ll be joined in the air by Kwan and Tyler.”
Kwan slapped Tyler on the back. “Booyah!”
Pellinore gave a curt cough and continued. “Then, one of you will swap out with Darla.”
“I’ll swap with her after I get my chance to fly,” Malcolm offered. Seriously? I guess he figured it wouldn’t take long for him to make me look stupid up there. I thought I might barf again.
A few minutes later, I strapped myself into my pilot seat. Even though the RTR’s engineers had done an impressive job of replicating the one-of-a-kind alien ship, there were still some differences between X-Calibur and the prototypes, like the amount of space inside the ship’s cabin. There was barely two feet on either side of me; the walls of the prototype were thicker and bulkier than I had expected.
I grabbed the ship’s steering handlebars, and the prototype hummed with power as it came to life. Through the windshield I could see Merlin, Pellinore, Barrington, Darla, Kwan, and Tyler watching.
“Can you hear me, knights?” Pellinore asked through our helmets.
“Ready when you are,” Malcolm said.
“You may begin,” Pellinore advised, and my ship began to rumble from the thrusters below.
I pulled back on my steering handlebars (slowly, measured, like Ivy had advised) and my ship hummed louder and the front end began to rise.
“You’re going to need some thrust, Benjamin,” Merlin suggested.
I put my foot on the floor panel labeled THRUST. It glowed as I made contact with it, but I hit it too hard and my ship suddenly rose straight up, fast, headed toward the ceiling. I would smash into it in about two seconds flat and die a very moronic death if I didn’t do something. I panicked, and then it occurred to me to simply take my foot off the thrust panel.
Whew. I was now hovering in place, with Malcolm’s ship only thirty feet away. Every few seconds, I gave my ship some gentle power to keep it afloat.
“Release the lap markers,” Pellinore ordered. I looked down through my windshield and saw a couple of techs carrying a remote-control unit with buttons on it. Panels in the hangar’s ceiling suddenly slid open, and a few dozen orange glowing pyramids, each about six feet long, descended on gleaming silver chains. As they settled into their positions, they transformed the hangar airspace into a circular flying racetrack. The hangar lights dimme
d, and the pyramids cast an eerie orange haze over the entire place. It would have been cool if I hadn’t been so darn nervous.
“This should be fun,” I muttered, then took a deep breath.
“The course is all yours, knights,” Pellinore prompted. In the blink of an eye, the back end of Malcolm’s ship lit up with a surge of power, and he soared forward. Even though we were just supposed to fly laps, Malcolm was going to turn this into a race.
I gave my ship some power and moved forward, much slower than Malcolm. I just wanted to avoid the glowing pyramids, and I did a pretty good job. Problem was, I looked like a grandma driving a Ferrari. I wasn’t going to impress anyone at this speed, and when I saw Malcolm whizzing around the opposite side of the hangar, I knew I had to kick it up a notch.
I gave my ship more juice, and the engines roared behind me like a barely contained inferno. Warmth from the fire spread through the cabin. With my sweaty hands clutching the steering controls in a death grip, I left my doubts behind and focused everything I had on keeping the ship on course.
Ivy was right. I can do this!
I was jolted by something surging past my windshield: Malcolm had lapped me. I squinted into the fiery red of his rear thrusters as he left me in the dust. So much for my awesomeness.
“Nice work, Malcolm,” Pellinore cheered. I wished Ivy was here to fly a ship and give Malcolm a run for his money.
“Okay, you two—Kwan and Tyler are on their way up now,” Barrington warned. “Stay sharp and remember: Communication is key. Talk to each other up there. You’re a team.”
Tell that to Malcolm.
I looked around, trying to spot Tyler and Kwan. They suddenly appeared on either side of me. Even though their ships were at least twenty feet away, I felt nervous again. The seat belt that was crisscrossed over my chest was tight, making me aware of every inhale and exhale, not to mention my galloping heart.