by R H Nolan
Max shrugged. “If you guys need more convincing, I can prove it to you.”
Trox’s head shot up. “YES. I have been waiting for a demonstration.”
“Jeez.” Lyra chuckled and rolled her eyes.
“What if I told you I’ve seen him do exactly what he said he can do?” Ayla asked. “Well, part of it, anyway. Would you guys believe me?”
Herk smirked, but it was clearly more in excitement than skepticism. “Yeah, but he already offered, and I want to see it too.”
Max took a deep breath, not quite sure how he felt about being on display like this. Part of him kind of liked it, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Okay. Anybody have something they don’t mind getting… messed up a little?”
He didn’t want to just start firing energy blasts around the room, which he’d started to think was some kind of meeting place Ayla and her friends had put together themselves.
“I mean… uh…” Trox swiveled in his chair, gazing all over the room. “The floor?”
“Yeah, I could disintegrate some of that. Anything else?”
“Here.” Lyra tossed something at Max, and he caught it in surprise. “I haven’t been able to get it to work, so it’s probably useless at this point.”
Max looked down at the small device in his hands. It was about as big as one palm, and was made of metal and something that looked like glass. “What is it?”
“Some kind of old communication device, I think.” Lyra shrugged. “I found it in the storage rooms.”
There were a lot of things buried in Neo Angeles’ storage rooms, apparently. Max nodded and crouched down into a squat in the center of the room. He reached out to disintegrate the floor and heard a few sharp inhales when the energy crackled across his right hand and his fingers slowly sank into the floor.
He only did enough to gain a very small amount of power. After all, he didn’t want to blow something up or take this way too far.
When he stood up again, he held the metal device in his left and let off a small burst of electric current.
The device crackled, then one side of it flared to life with a flash of white and hundreds of small, blinking lights.
Max looked up at Ayla’s friends. Everyone was staring at him.
Then Trox burst into laughter. “Holy crap—did anybody expect that? I know I didn’t.”
“That’s just a tiny part of it,” Max said, tossing the now-quiet device back to Lyra. She caught it deftly with her sleek metal hand and stared at it. “But I’m not lying about anything.”
“Any other questions?” Ayla asked beside him.
When Max turned to look at her, he found the same determination in her eyes that had been there when they’d met—when she’d said she could alert the city computer and have him captured again in minutes, though she hadn’t. He had no doubt she was completely behind him and would help him find the emergent for Zryk. Now they just needed everyone else to decide one way or the other.
“I’m in,” Trox said, sitting straight up in his chair. “How can I get some of that armor?”
Max almost laughed. “Step into a Qirinian energy chamber, get some powers, and run a few errands for an alien.”
“We should totally make that happen.”
“I could talk to Zryk about it,” Max replied.
“I believed you from the beginning,” Lyra said, setting down the device again. “So if we need to help you get this Bug device from the labs, I’m in.”
“You know what would be really cool?” Herk asked and leaned forward in his chair.
Trox snorted. “Is that a trick question?”
Herk ignored him and stared right at Max. “If those powers of yours could do something to bring our good Governor Saris down a few miles off his high horse.”
“Herk…” Ayla muttered, sounding both critical and a little embarrassed. It had to be rough as the niece of the governor everyone else seemed to hate, especially her friends.
“No, I’m serious,” Herk said. “How great would that be? A Scavenger comes into Neo Angeles with alien superpowers. Just to show the tyrant how useless it is to define someone’s strength by whether or not they live inside a huge metal cage.”
Ayla took a deep breath. “He’s not a tyrant. He’s just… he feels really strongly about—”
“I’m pretty sure the definition of tyrant is an oppressive ruler,” the huge kid interrupted. “Nobody’s left this city at least since we’ve been alive. Except the guards. You said he told you about what he’s been working on to improve lives, but he won’t even let you see what he’s doing. He doesn’t lift a finger to help anyone in the Wastelands but himself.”
“He’s under a lot of pressure to keep this city and its people safe,” Ayla countered, her voice just a little higher now. Then she and Herk stared at each other.
For a minute, Max thought one of them was about to start screaming. Then Herk shrugged.
“It’ll probably be almost as cool to see this guy use his powers for real. And to know we had something to do with the last Bug in existence. At least on Earth, I guess.” He turned his head to look at Max and nodded. “I’m in.”
“Thanks,” Max said, nodding in return. Then he looked at the others. “If you guys are serious about wanting to change the system, at least in this part of the Wastelands, this is a good start.”
The chair under Herk groaned a little as the guy pushed himself to his feet. He was a lot taller than Max expected, maybe six and a half feet. Then Max noticed the guy’s left leg, which had been under the workstation and hidden behind the huge pile of devices beside him. Herk had a prosthetic too, which went at least up to his knee, maybe higher; Max could only see it below the kid’s shorts. When Herk stepped toward him, his footsteps were even and steady—nothing like Kier’s jarring, wobbly robotic legs that made it almost impossible for him to walk more than a few minutes at a time.
Then Herk stood right in front of Max, peering down at him like he’d just been insulted—only his gray eyes were wide and genuine, concerned without being a jerk about it. “I know what it’s like to have everyone tell you that you aren’t enough. And I know what it’s like to fight for it. So I’m choosing to believe you, Max. I just hope I don’t regret it later.”
“Me too,” Max said.
Herk nodded again, then shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the others. “So, who wants to go on a treasure hunt?”
18
After some discussion, the group sent Herk to fetch some camouflage for Max. Herk’s home was apparently the closest one to their hiding place.
The himirini armor had gotten Max a lot of weird looks from people, and when he’d mixed that with running from the guards, it had almost gotten him caught. Nobody wanted to risk that again.
Herk returned with a huge tan trench coat for Max to wear on their way to the sub-level elevators. Apparently, wearing a trench coat in the heat of the Wastelands wasn’t that out of the ordinary for people. Max guessed it had something to do with all the shade these people got on a daily basis.
Ayla led them through the bustling city streets, weaving between buildings and steering them as best she could away from the guards. One of the guards had recognized Max’s face before, so they had to play it safe and get him through as quickly as they could without anyone noticing.
Ayla and the rest of her friends were just another group of Dweller kids with nothing to do, so five of them together and looking like they knew where they were going—which they did—drew a lot less attention than Max had on his own.
The sub-level elevators were inside one of the buildings near the center of the city. A confusing wave of déjà vu washed over Max when they stepped inside; the place was even cleaner than the city streets, and cool. The air was blissfully colder than anything Max had felt his entire life… or at least that he could remember.
A few control panels lined the walls, open and unguarded. Max wondered if they were just there for any
one to walk in and use. His dad had told him once about the city’s security mainframe, accessible to any Dweller through either their implants or physical interaction with the designated computers.
The contrast was so striking it almost hurt—Dwellers here, sheltered and protected, with access to everything they could possibly want; Scavengers tossed about in the Wastelands, exposed to the deadened planet, who fought for every scrap of survival, sometimes against each other. It made him want to scream, because something about this place felt so wrong.
Ayla moved across the sleek metal floors, heading toward one of the seven elevators lining the wall on their left. The only other person here was a man in uniform darker than the guards’ and without any weapons, with gray hair and a short-billed cap. He sat behind a large desk at the back of the building’s single room.
“Hi, Trevor,” Ayla said, offering the guy a smile and a friendly wave.
The man looked up from his monitor. “Ayla. What are you up to today?”
“My dad asked me to come in,” Trox said, stepping toward the man while Ayla moved toward the third elevator. Max, Herk, and Lyra followed her and went to stand beside the elevator door. Max stared at the wall.
Trox continued talking. “He said he could use a bit of help on one of his projects, so I brought some friends.”
The odl man chuckled. “I don’t think your dad has ever said no to extra assistants.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Trox replied, bobbing his head and grinning, like this was all just another normal day of infiltrating the city labs.
“I hope he puts you all to work.”
“Oh, he will.” Trox turned away and joined Max and the others at the elevator door, where a small, two-inch panel displayed the elevator’s location through each sub-level.
Max felt the old man’s eyes on him from across the room, and he pulled the trench coat tighter around his shoulders. Finally, the elevator door slid open.
“Hey,” the man called behind them, “I don’t think I’ve met—”
“Gotta go,” Trox shouted. “Nobody wants to keep Dr. Pell waiting.”
“See ya later, Trevor,” Ayla added, waving again as she darted into the elevator behind everyone else.
The doors slid closed, and the elevator slowly began its descent. Max let out his breath loudly.
“Super easy,” Trox said with another grin. “I bet you I could talk my way out of anything.”
Max glanced at the kid, who couldn’t have been much over five-foot-five. Even Lyra had a few inches on him. “Here in the city, maybe.”
“What? People don’t talk to each other out in the Wastelands?” Trox cocked his head, playing off the tension with a cockiness Max thought might have actually been real.
“Not like that. A Bloodletter would slice you open if you took too much time talking instead of paying up.”
Trox’s eyebrows twitched together, then he folded his arms. “But I’m fast, too.”
“Not as fast as me.” Max smirked and had to keep himself from looking down at his skates with pride.
“Oh, Scavenger from the Wastelands thinks a little bit of super-cool armor and some energy powers would win him a race? You’re on, Max.”
Max couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You don’t stop, do you?” Lyra asked, shaking her head.
“Nope. I’m tellin’ ya, whatever a Bloodletter is, I’d be gone before it even tried anything.” Trox mimed speeding away with his hand.
Max glanced at Ayla, who smiled a little but looked totally confused. Then he realized none of these people in the elevator with him knew what a Bloodletter was. All they knew were Scavengers versus Dwellers—out there versus in here.
“They’re big angry guys who enslave anyone weaker than them,” he told Trox. “Whole tribes. That’s a Bloodletter.”
Trox raised his eyebrows. “Yeesh. Still, though, I could out run ‘im.”
Ayla eyed them in amusement. “Maybe you can figure out who’s faster or stronger or whatever later. We’re almost there.”
Trox shrugged and grinned. “I’m ready when you are, Max. I’m always ready.”
Then the elevator doors opened. Two women in white lab coats stood just on the other side, and Trox jolted in surprise.
“What are you kids doing down here?” the taller one asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Uh…” Trox said, freezing up.
“Meeting with Dr. Pell,” Herk said, bringing a huge hand down on Trox’s shoulder. The shorter kid almost buckled under the contact. “His dad.”
The women just raised their eyebrows and stared at everyone, like they were entitled to a lot more information than that. At this point, nobody had any.
“Excuse us,” Herk added, then moved Trox forward by the shoulder and stepped out of the elevator. Max followed them closely, flashing the women a brief smile and looking quickly away.
“Yeah,” Trox said, apparently having found his voice again. “His office is up here.”
He said it to the group, but it was loud enough for the women to hear before the elevator door closed again.
As they walked on, Herk whispered, “Who can talk his way out of anything?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Trox gave a sheepish smile. “Seriously, though. We should go check out my dad’s office. If he’s not in there, we can go through the side rooms to get to the labs. It’s not really a shortcut, but at least we won’t be walking around the main halls.”
“Sounds good,” Max said, gesturing for Trox to lead the way.
They moved through a series of wide hallways before Trox stopped in front of a door with the name Dr. R. Pell on the plaque. He stood on his tiptoes to peer through the lightly tinted window, then tried the door handle.
“Well, lookee here,” he said with a grin and pushed open the door to an empty office. “We probably have a few minutes.”
“A few?” Lyra asked.
“I mean, he’s in and out of his office. But he spends more time giving orders to other scientists than working in here.” Trox paused. “I think.”
“Great,” Ayla muttered before stepping through the doorway after Trox, Herk, and Lyra.
Max went in after her and softly closed the door. Then he pulled up the schematics of Sub-Level 5 on Zryk’s map and studied it for a minute.
Meanwhile, Trox was rummaging in his father’s desk. He grinned and pulled out a plastic identity card. “Look at what I found. He told me he has to keep spares around because he’s always leaving his at home.”
Max leaned in closer. The picture of the man on the card looked like Trox—dark skin, glasses—but obviously much older.
“How’s that going to help?” Max asked. “You don’t look nearly as old as your dad.”
The entire group stared at Max like he was stupid.
“…what?” Max asked defensively. It’s not like he was used to stupid plastic cards with people’s pictures on them in the Wastelands.
“It’s an access card,” Ayla explained. “It has a code on it, and probably a pretty high-level one, since Trox’s dad is a lead scientist. It might get us through a few doors.”
“Like that one?” Max asked, pointing to the steel door across the room.
“Probably.” Trox crossed his dad’s office to give it a try.
First he tried the handle. It turned, but the door didn’t budge.
Then Trox placed the ID card up against a black glass pad next to the door. There was a blip of light, and the door unlocked. “Works like a charm.”
“Good,” Max said, and consulted Zryk’s augmented reality maps again. “It looks like we have to go through… two other labs to get to the one we want.”
Lyra tucked her black hair behind her ear. “So I guess we’re just hoping no one’s working in the labs when we start moving through them. Is that the plan?”
No one had an answer.
“You guys realize how much trouble we’ll be in if anyone finds us here, right?”
&n
bsp; “It won’t be that bad,” Ayla replied. “We’d probably just be escorted out and told not to try it again. My uncle wouldn’t let it get much farther than that.”
Herk looked down at her with a frown. “You sure about that?”
Ayla had spent some time defending the governor when she’d told Max he was her uncle, and she’d spouted the same lines when Herk started badmouthing him.
Now, though, she just stared up at Herk and didn’t say anything. When she swallowed, Max wondered how much of her own words she really believed.
“Right,” Trox said, interrupting the staring contest. “We should probably just do this, then.”
“And pray,” Lyra muttered.
Trox used the ID card, opened the door again, and the others followed him through it.
They moved down a long, narrow, poorly lit corridor that seemed to stretch forever. Max activated the real-view map and found the same blinking yellow light at the end of the hall. So at least they were still going the right way.
After a few more minutes, they stopped next to a non-descript door with no markings at all, just another black glass screen next to it—except this scanner was higher up than the previous one.
“This is it,” Max whispered. The blinking yellow light in his vision covered the entire door.
Trox tried the handle. The handle turned, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“No problemo,” Trox said, and put the ID card up against the glass plate.
Another blip of light—
And then a robotic voice said, “Welcome, Dr. Pell. Retinal scan required for entrance.”
“Oh crap,” Trox muttered.
“What?” Max asked.
“It wants an eye scan to identify Dr. Pell,” Ayla explained.
“So?” Max asked.
“So everyone’s eyes are different. Even though he’s related, Trox’s eyes won’t work.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“We’re stuck. We can’t get in.”
“Well, this was worthless,” Trox said sourly, and shoved the ID card into his pocket.
Max moved Trox gently out of the way. “Let me see something.”