Kingdom Keepers V (9781423153429)

by Pearson, Ridley

  The man waved Finn out of the line. The Keepers’ VIP guide moved to the Cast Member’s side as the others were processed through the entrance, their key cards registering green.

  Finn was beginning to dislike that color.

  The guide whispered to the Cast Member. She opened an iPad and began navigating.

  Finn heard the man say, “The DHIs? I’m so sorry!”

  The two whispered back and forth, the guide clearly pushing Finn’s celebrity status. But the Cast Member was clearly a by-the-rules man. Despite his curious glances in Finn’s direction, the grins he offered, his fingers never stopped dancing on the keyboard.

  “There was a flag in the record…” the man said. “I can see that. But whatever note was there appears to have been deleted.”

  The woman offered her iPad and the Cast Member read from it. He looked up at Finn. Back to the iPad.

  “You see the signature,” the guide prodded.

  “Indeed,” he said, his brow furrowing.

  “I can try to call him directly if you like.”

  The Cast Member clearly didn’t want anything to do with such a call. Meanwhile, another fifty people had passed through the checkpoint. The other Keepers were long gone, onto the ship. Finn was anxious to get aboard.

  A few more keystrokes and the Cast Member told the guide, “Very well. I have him with the Philby family in a connecting room. If you would please email that document to me, I will attach it to his record and everything should be okay.” He looked up at Finn with a bright face. “Just one minute and you’re all set to go, young man.”

  “Thank you,” Finn said behind a grimace. He rose to his toes again and looked back. He didn’t see anyone looking anything like his mother. And that worried him. He hurried to catch up with Philby.

  * * *

  “That ain’t right,” the sailor said from the boatswain’s chair, hanging by a pair of ropes from the overhead deck like a window washer. He was repainting the Dream’s freshly painted hull where some debris carried by high seas had (barely) scratched the hull’s glossy surface. The man next to him, also slung from the deck, was in fact the window washer.

  “Don’t get your BVDs in a twist about it.”

  “Since when do characters board the ship in costume?”

  “Since today.”

  “You’re a real jerk.”

  “And you’re paranoid.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It means it’s a maiden voyage. The first ship through the new canal. Are you kidding me? It means the rules change. Everything changes. If the Wicked Witch of the East wants to board in costume, what’s the rub?”

  “That wasn’t the Wicked Witch of the East, cauliflower for brains, it was Maleficent. And the Evil Queen. And Cruella. And Jafar. Judge Frollo. If the passage is so special, why all the villains?”

  “They’ve changed up every single show. You heard that. Or you read it. If you can read, that is.”

  “Stuff it.”

  “I’m just saying: it’s been on the bulletin board on I-95 for the past week or something.” I-95 was the main hallway connecting the crew quarters with administration offices and backstage staircases to all parts of the ship. For crew members and Cast Members alike it was similar to Main Street of a very small town and was off limits to paying passengers.

  “Not the part about villains boarding in costume.”

  “Will you get over that?”

  The man finished his last stroke of touch-up, the paint baking in the afternoon sunshine. To look down the length of the vessel from this vantage point was to fully comprehend the vast size of the ship. It wasn’t simply big, it was huge. Monstrous. How so many thousands of tons of steel and iron could be made to float was beyond him; he confined his thinking to the sanding and the application of paint.

  As the worker admired his effort, a group of stage actors arrived at the Cast Member–only gangway directly beneath the man, near the bow of the ship. At the tail end of this line were four younger actors, one of whom was wide-shouldered, thick at the neck, and wore his hair cut military short. Easily mistaken for being several years older than he was. The first of these kids swiped his key card in front of the electronic reader.

  The console beeped and a light turned red.

  “Just a minute,” the security Cast Member, a young Asian woman, said. “This thing’s been acting up today.” She typed on the keyboard. “Try it again.”

  The boy moved his card slowly in front of the reader. The red light flashed, but there was no warning beep this time.

  “Perfect,” the woman said. “Welcome aboard.” She looked up at the actor through vivid green eyes. The same color eyes looked back at her. The two smiled nearly simultaneously.

  One by one the security woman processed the next three, each key card sounding a warning beep and flashing a red light. One by one the “problems” were taken care of, and the arrivals were processed into the system.

  Two of the four wore sunglasses until well within the ship. This, because it was strange enough that the other two had eyes the exact same color of green. Four kids with unusual green eyes, especially moving around in a group, were certain to attract attention.

  And they couldn’t have that. Their job was to blend in.

  * * *

  “The Dream welcomes aboard,” came the amplified voice of the Cast Member who stood just inside the ship, “the Philby family!” There was a small smattering of applause from other Cast Members. Chip and Dale jumped for joy and clapped their paws—as they did for every arriving family. The other Keepers had arrived ahead of Philby and Finn and were already standing beneath the spectacular chandelier that hung from the ceiling of the three-story lobby. The expansive, gilded area was a statement of grandeur. It told you this was indeed a magical ship and that you had entered a world where every girl was a princess and every boy a prince. Crew members, neatly turned out in crisply starched white uniforms, stood straight-backed, welcoming arrivals. Far across the marble-tiled floor, oversize porthole windows offered a glimpse of water and the industrialized shore beyond, as if a reminder you were not on land. For it was impossible—impossible—that such a lobby, with its ornate trim, balconies, portraits of princesses, stairs leading to a dining room, and four glass elevators rising and falling, could possibly be at sea and not on land.

  “Whoa,” said Maybeck, rarely one to be impressed by anything other than himself.

  “Yes,” said Philby, “a feat of engineering.”

  “Really?” said Charlene. “Is that all you’ve got? Engineering?”

  He said, “The exoskeletons of the elevator shafts must serve as—”

  Willa touched Philby’s arm as the others turned to shut him up. “Maybe later,” she whispered. “I’d love to figure out the structural support system with you.”

  Philby said, “I can handle it.” He leaned back to study the ceiling. He moved toward the elevators. The others followed.

  Finn continued to listen for any welcome announcement that included his own last name, fearing his mother might actually attempt to board. He reminded himself that Wayne had taken care of it, had invalidated her ticket, but unlike other Wayne promises, Finn did not trust this particular one. Ursula’s surprising Triton; the rescue dummies searching for Finn after he’d been in Typhoon Lagoon for only minutes; his mother’s green eyes—all these things filled him with a sense of unease. Unlike the other guests boarding, he did not view the ship as an escape from regular life, but as a trap. Once the gangways were removed, the doors sealed, the lines gathered, and the ship set sail there was no getting off.

  “We have work to do,” Philby reminded softly over Finn’s shoulder as they boarded the oval-shaped elevator with Philby’s mother. “While the crew is distracted.”

  “I’m with you,” Finn said. “But what about…?” He glanced toward Mrs. Philby.

  “Leave her to me,” Philby said.

  They arrived at the Deck 11 concierge sta
terooms, having had no idea they were to be treated as VIPs. Here, beyond a gated entrance that kept these staterooms private, they walked down a walnut-paneled hallway on thick carpet bearing nautical patterns mixed in with hidden Mickeys. Mrs. Philby unlocked and pushed open the stateroom door and gasped audibly. Finn’s room was next door. His eyes bulged as he saw inside.

  “Unreal!” said Maybeck, leaning his head out of his own stateroom a few doors down.

  In fact, Finn’s stateroom was beyond even that. It was more incredible than the most beautiful hotel room he’d ever seen, in any movie, in any magazine. Ever. Wood-paneled, super-soft furniture, a flat panel television with wireless keyboard and gaming, private balcony. A giant bed. Singularly awesome bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and separate glassed-in shower.

  “Sick,” Finn whispered to himself.

  A knock at the door, and a moment later Finn and Philby had connected the two staterooms by a common door between them. Philby and his mom had a room even bigger than Finn’s, with a dining table and living area, meaning two televisions and two bathrooms. Philby pointed out to Finn how not only the couch converted to a bed, but there was also a bunk hidden in the ceiling that could be set up by the steward at night.

  The staterooms shared stewards, who were like butlers and housecleaners all in one.

  “We’re out of here in five minutes. Okay?” Philby said.

  “No problem.”

  Finn turned on the television in his room, walked out onto the deck, and looked over the side. A few minutes later, he discovered a television that appeared in the mirror in the bathroom. The suite was sweet—it had all sorts of tricks.

  He and Philby compared notes as they hurried down the hall. Finn knocked on Maybeck’s door. Maybeck opened it.

  “You good?”

  Maybeck opened his hand, revealing the all-important Return. The next-generation device linked to DHI 2.0 was smaller than the previous version. It looked like a rectangular thumb drive with a button in the middle.

  “We’re going to put this somewhere only we can find it.”

  “Center of the ship,” Philby reminded. The Dream was more than a thousand feet long; he didn’t want the Keepers to have to run a fifth of a mile of ship decks to exit DHI.

  “It’s cool,” Maybeck said.

  “And remember,” Philby warned, “they clean this ship every day like it’s a hospital.”

  “I know…to keep everyone healthy.”

  “We’ll have to find a place to hide it they won’t find.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Maybeck said, irritated. “You do your jobs and we’ll do ours.”

  Stung, Philby stepped back.

  “Easy,” Finn said to Maybeck.

  “He’s not the only expert,” Maybeck said.

  “Later,” Finn said.

  He’d noticed small cracks developing between Philby and the other Keepers of late. Finn attributed them to Philby’s unnerving and growing sense of superiority. If you asked him, Philby didn’t have an equal. Finn knew that the stress, the nagging, often terrifying realization that there were people—creatures—after you, didn’t help things. It wasn’t something anyone should have to live with, Finn thought. The nightmares, the paranoia were all part of it. Jumping awake at the slightest sound; lying awake afraid to go back to sleep. Robbed of the only escape.

  Philby assumed his brainpower gave him a position of superiority over the others. But impatience had replaced tolerance. Assuredness, confidence. Rudeness, consideration. He no longer thought himself superior—he knew it. How long he could last in a group whose members fed off one another was unclear, given his unwillingness to participate as an equal. Finn felt the rope fraying at both ends.

  “You know,” Finn said to Philby, “in a way we, the Keepers, are kind of like the Base.”

  “How so?”

  “Under siege. Surrounded. We’re being slowly choked and starved by the enemy. Maybe not of food. But sleep. Tolerance. Patience.”

  “Interesting analogy,” Professor Philby said. “But I don’t agree. Soldiers suffer in any war. We are not surrounded. We’re under attack. The two are very different. The strategy we must adopt, Finn, is to go on the offensive. Attack! We can’t sit back.”

  “But where?” Finn asked, bristling at his attitude. He might have once expected such bravado from Maybeck, but Philby? “Who? The ISP for the OTs’ server keeps moving. How are we supposed to hit a moving target?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Philby reminded.

  “Part of why we’re here,” Finn said.

  “To each his own.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s why we’re here…it’s exactly what we’re about to do,” Philby said, as if obvious. “This is what it’s all about.”

  Get a life, Finn felt like saying, knowing he too was overtired.

  “You want a mind-bender?” Philby asked.

  “Sure,” Finn said, always up for a challenge.

  “How come when you—or any of us—goes all clear we don’t fall through the ground?”

  Finn was about to answer when he caught himself. “Interesting.”

  “We can pass through walls. Stuff can pass through us. Yet we don’t sink into the ground and disappear. Why not?”

  “All clear,” Finn clarified, “as opposed to holograms, since the holograms are projections?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s a nonissue in 2.0. And we can’t go all clear from our human state anymore. They removed that ability.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Finn said, his voice quavering.

  “But we haven’t field-tested that,” Philby said.

  “No, I suppose not.” If Philby was trying to bait Finn to ask the obvious, Finn wasn’t biting. He refused to believe Philby could go all clear when in a waking state, given the limitation imposed by the 2.0 upgrade. If any Keeper was going to master that power, it would be him, not Philby. Or so he hoped.

  Philby asked, “What if back in 1.6 we stayed on the ground when all clear because we wanted to?” He allowed Finn a moment to consider the idea. “The same way fear took us out of all clear, intention kept us where we wanted to be: standing on a floor or on the ground.”

  “We control it all?” Finn said in a whisper. Then he said, “Is this honestly how you spend your time? Thinking up this stuff?”

  “It’s interesting.”

  Not really, Finn was thinking. You’re just showing off.

  “What if we could master all clear in 2.0? Turn ourselves into projections with nothing more than the intention? Once all clear, 2.0’s stability would lock it in.”

  “But it’s the stability of the upgrade that prevents us from going all clear. Right?”

  “Is it?” Philby asked.

  “You’re the wizard. You tell me!”

  “We’ve barely broken the seal,” Philby said. “Like any upgrade to any operating system, 2.0 goes way deeper, has way more bells and whistles than we know.” He paused. “Way more!”

  Finn felt like shoving him. It was like Philby was teasing him—that he was going to make Finn beg to hear more.

  “What is it with you?” Finn said.

  Philby grinned slyly. “Nothing,” he said, not meaning it at all. “No big.”

  Philby hadn’t taken his eyes off his watch since arriving outside the Radio Studio on Deck 14.

  “The security office is located on Deck One. That’s basically fourteen floors below us. Right now, with two thousand guests coming aboard, the elevators are packed and slow. That suggests security guys would take the stairs. At a full run it would take at least five minutes to get up here. More like seven or eight.”

  “O-kay,” Finn said, a little tired of all the lectures.

  “You understand,” Philby continued, “that what we’re about to do is illegal. Beyond illegal. It’s probably considered more like an act of terrorism or something.”

  “Way to build my confidence
,” Finn said.

  “I’m just saying—”

  “I get it.”

  “Big trouble, serious trouble if we get caught.”

  “I got it the first time.” Finn studied the door. “How are we supposed to get in there?”

  “Wayne said we’d know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Don’t ask me! How to get in, I suppose.”

  “And do you?”

  “No,” Philby confessed. “But he named the time and place. It can’t be that hard.”

  “You don’t sound convinced,” Finn said.

  “Listen, this ship carries the most advanced technology there is. Only the U.S. Navy has stuff more serious than this. When we key this door open, that action is recorded into a log. It’s on a hard drive somewhere. And it’ll show up on security’s monitors—”

  “As an authorized entry.”

  “We hope so, yes. Hopefully Wayne is sending someone with access to the Radio Studio. So it shouldn’t raise a red flag. But a security guy could decide to take a look at the studio’s security cameras because of the alert, because of the entry. If he does, then he’s going to see two kids in there. So there’re two issues.”

  “There’s a surprise.”

  “First, if they see two kids on their monitors, chances are they’re going to come looking for us.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Second, if they’re watching us, we can’t show them what we’re up to. Don’t forget it’s likely being recorded. So we have to mislead them so that even if they review the videos they don’t get what’s going on.”

  “You’re not talking just about security guys,” Finn said knowingly.

  “Maybe not.”

  “You’re saying the Overtakers can tap into the security video feeds?” He felt his heartbeat increase. “Seriously?”

  “All I’m saying is it can’t hurt to take precautions.”

  “So once we’re in there, we’re going to do one thing, but pretend we’re doing something else?”

  “Two things,” Philby corrected. “We went over this. I’m counting on you, Finn.”

  You and everybody else, Finn thought.