Project X-Calibur

by Greg Pace

  “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!!” I gave a whoop and pumped my fist in the air.

  The flames from the dozen or so ships crept up the slick, oily walls and into the bays. The mothership was becoming a time bomb. I had to get out, and fast. I turned to fly back the way I had come and envisioned the ship flattening out again.

  Everything was going my way—until I spotted something in the middle of the mothership coming toward me. Someone, about six feet tall. At first he seemed to be magically flying through the air, but as he got closer, I spotted dozens of sinewy green tentacles coming off his torso. They were hundreds of feet long and ultra thin, stretching to the mothership’s walls and floor and ceiling, allowing him to bounce around the massive interior like an insect

  He made a sudden lunge at me. When our eyes locked, there was no doubt in my mind who he was.

  Dredmore.

  43

  UPON CLOSER INSPECTION, Dredmore didn’t look much like a bug at all. For one thing, he had a body that resembled a human—two arms and two legs. For another, even though those weird tentacles of his were green, his skin was fleshy and gray, like a corpse. He had sharp spikes growing out of his head and back like a dinosaur, and his nose wasn’t just hooked like the aliens who had invaded HQ—it was thick and wide and protruded from his elongated face like a snout. His head was huge, and his dark draconian eyes narrowed as they locked onto mine. I dug my fingers into the edges of my pilot seat and braced myself as, with a ferocious snarl, Dredmore dived straight for my windshield.

  The process of changing the ship into a flattened disc again had already started. Everything around me was shimmering and gooey, so Dredmore’s lunge pushed him right through X-Calibur’s soft windshield. In the blink of an eye, he smashed into me with such force that the pilot seat toppled backward. The tentacles that had been connected to him unlatched from hooks on a weathered vest he wore. They hadn’t been part of his body at all; they were merely an accessory. I had the vague sense that those sinewy things were alive as they whisked back through the windshield with multiple TWAAANNNNGs.

  I was on my back, kicking and flailing with Dredmore on top of me. I could hear one explosion after another outside. I had to get out of there, but my mind was a mass of confusion and panic, and that had halted X-Calibur’s transformation. Dredmore’s breath was foul-smelling, like putrid garbage, and hot. Really hot. As he snarled and sneered, I could see past his razor-sharp teeth and thick, purple tongue. There was an orange glow in the back of his throat, building in intensity and heat. He had the same glow in his nostrils.

  He looked me in the eye and growled, “Ah-gankan-ruh-mana.”

  I had no clue what the heck that meant, but after getting a look inside his mouth, I had a pretty good idea what was coming, so I rammed my fingers into his eyes in a last-ditch effort to get free. He roared in pain and I squirmed out from under him as a burst of fire shot out of his mouth and nose, missing me by inches. I scrambled backward and felt something hard hit my foot. It was Excalibur, lying on the floor. I reached for it, energized. “You want a fight—”

  But as I grabbed the jeweled handle, the blade melted into a shimmering metallic puddle. It was stuck mid-transformation, just like the rest of the ship.

  WHAM! Dredmore tackled me from behind, sending us both flying forward. I plunged part of the way through the windshield and dangled outside it. The heat from the fires out there was excruciating. I was going to be barbecued. I reached for the gooey nose of X-Calibur, trying to pull myself back into my ship, but there was nothing to grab onto.

  “A handle,” I grunted in blind agony, then envisioned it in my head. “I need a handle.” Nothing happened until I pushed my hand into the silver goo. Amazingly, the goo molded itself into a handle for me.

  “Thank you!” I used the handle to heave myself back through the spongy windshield and into the ship.

  Inside the cabin of X-Calibur, Dredmore had gotten to his feet. He lunged at me again, but now that I had this “envisioning” thing under control, I was just getting started. I laid a hand against the shimmering wall and thought about what I wanted.

  As Dredmore came at me—BAM! A large metallic fist, molded from the wall itself, clocked Dredmore in the side of the face. As he went down, I reached for the sword again, thinking that I needed it back to normal, and the metal of the blade quickly hardened. As Dredmore got to his feet again, I stood to face him. How fitting this was, a knight and his sword squaring off against a fire-breathing dragon.

  “Ekah-mun-haza,” Dredmore seethed as he looked me up and down, examining me with both disdain and curiosity.

  “Easy for you to say,” I shot back, then swung at him.

  He blasted a fireball at me and I had to dart sideways to avoid it; my swing missed. The flames clipped my legs and I fell, then went into a shoulder roll to get away from him (not an easy task while holding a massive sword). His second flame blast missed me, but one of my legs was stinging like crazy from the first one. I’d been burned, badly. I tried to limp, but went down on one knee—the pain was too much.

  The mothership was probably going to detonate at any second. I stole a glance through the gooey windshield. We were almost to the back wall of the mothership, and now that I was down, Dredmore came at me again, his confidence renewed. He sucked in a big breath of air, getting ready to roast me once and for all, but I gritted my teeth against the pain of my leg and lunged, sinking my sword into his gut. The blade came out of his back.

  He gasped and went to his knees as I yanked the sword out of him. His breathing was raspy and labored. Wisps of smoke drifted from his mouth and nostrils. His ability to create fire was gone; he was dying.

  “Why?” I asked him through gritted teeth. “What did we ever do to you?”

  He winced, holding his gut, his hands covered in a thick, purple blood. He managed a wicked grin, then looked past me, toward the windshield.

  I turned. Uh-oh.

  The mothership’s wall with the crack in it was almost upon us. Inches away. I’d waited too long; X-Calibur wouldn’t have enough time to continue flattening out. We were a second away from crashing when I realized I had any weapon I needed at my disposal.

  “Something big. Powerful,” I cried, then pressed one of the console buttons. The familiar feeling of warmth raced up my arm, chest, and head, and then—

  KA-POW!! POW!! Two blasts of concentrated energy rocketed out of X-Calibur, one on each side, then came together in a split second to blow open a massive hole in the mothership. I soared through the hole and into outer space as the mothership exploded in a spectacle of monumental proportions behind me.

  I grinned. I was exhausted, with my burned leg screaming, but victorious. I turned, expecting to see Dredmore’s corpse on the floor.

  But he was gone.

  I raced over to where he had fallen only moments before and ran my hand over X-Calibur’s wall. Faint splotches of purple stained the ship’s interior: Dredmore’s blood, mixed into the metal. He must have pushed himself out of the ship just in time.

  I turned back to the windshield. Outer space was a vast sea of twinkling black that seemed to go on forever. For most it would be peaceful and serene, but not me. Not anymore. I would never look at it the same way again.

  44

  NOBODY IS QUITE SURE why I could bond withX-Calibur in a way that nobody else could. The techs have suggested bio-signature mumbo-jumbo, and Merlin seems to think the ship just likes me because I’m a nice guy.

  In the hours following my return to HQ, there was much to be happy about. Ivy, Darla, Kwan, and Tyler had defeated the alien fighter ships. With the mothership blown into oblivion, we’d won the war, and mankind was safe—for now. Merlin, Pellinore, Malcolm, and everyone else who worked for the RTR had escaped with their lives. There’d been plenty of scrapes and bruises and concussions, but that seemed like a small price to pay, especially considering t
hat HQ had been ninety percent destroyed. Malcolm congratulated me, but I still think he would have preferred being the one to square off against Dredmore. I also think he’s a little jealous of my burned leg and limp, although they’ll heal soon enough. Until then, I’ll have to tolerate all the attention it’s getting me (and the attention from Ivy isn’t so bad).

  The residents of London still aren’t sure what happened in their city that day. Some claim that entire blocks were destroyed by gas leaks brought on by an earthquake. Others claim they saw something sinister in the sky, but nobody could say what. And the explosions in the sky? “Atmospheric reflections” of the explosions that were taking place on the ground. A one-in–a-million occurrence, the scientists on TV claimed. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that people will believe just about anything before they believe that aliens exist.

  Lately, I’ve been wondering a lot about fate and destiny. If Malcolm hadn’t been knocked unconscious at the celebration party, I might not have been the one to get inside X-Calibur and finally realize what it can do. Do I believe, like Merlin does, that there are no accidents? I can’t say for sure. Is there more of my life already written in the stars? More stories left to tell?

  What I do know is that the RTR must rebuild. When Merlin first brought me to London, I had envisioned a time when this would be over, when I’d be able to go home and resume my average life. But I realize that’s impossible now. Even if Dredmore is dead, who knows what else might be waiting to take another stab at wiping out mankind?

  I can never go back to my old life now. I know too much. I’ve seen too much.

  The thing is, I feel lucky. Some people have to wait their entire lives to find out who they’re supposed to be. I’m just thirteen years old, and I already know. I’m a modern-day knight, and my mission is to protect mankind. From here on out, I plan to give that everything I’ve got. Because that’s what Dad would do.

  And you know what? I’m pretty sure he’s proud of me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book would not exist (or kick as much butt as it does!) without these amazing people. A huge thanks:

  To everyone at Penguin: Pete Harris, for his awesome support from day one; Jen Besser, for getting the ball rolling and giving me much-needed encouragement right out of the gate; and Ari Lewin and Paula Sadler, for really digging in and making it happen and being cool and nice to me every step of the way.

  To my managers at Magnet Management, for being with me on my professional writing journey since the beginning.

  To a few friends who were instrumental in encouraging me over the years: Steve Sfetku, Jeff Masley, and Jim Brooks.

  To Aunt Terry, Uncle Dave (I wish you were here to read this), and Aunt Maria, for always making an effort to show that family is important.

  To my brother, David, for sending me an e-mail after I moved to L.A. and telling me that in the eyes of everyone back home, I had “already made it.” That e-mail meant a lot to me. Rock and roll! Keep the faith!

  To Julie, for the good times. The good ones weren’t just good, they were great; I will never forget them.

  To my parents, P.J. and Lorraine (I call them Mom and Dad), for being the best parents a son could ever have. We can’t choose our parents, but I lucked out; if we could choose, I’d still choose mine. There are no words big enough to describe how much love and respect I have for them both.

  And lastly, to my daughter, Abigail. Nothing is more valuable to me than knowing she’ll read this book one day and understand that dreams can come true, because one of them has come true for me. My greatest wish is that she’ll have the courage and determination to chase some fantastic dreams of her own.