by Andy Briggs
“Looks like there’s room for a couple more pallets, then I bet it’ll take off,” said Toby. “Can’t see any signs of a pilot though.”
He turned to Pete, but discovered he had been talking to himself. Pete had crept forward on all fours to one of the half-built pallets and was tearing a box open.
“Pete!” Toby hissed, terrified his voice would be overheard. But it seemed that not even Pete could hear him.
Pete pulled something out of the box and held it up for Toby to see, giving the thumbs-up with his other hand. It was thermal protection gear, exactly what was needed if they were traveling to the icy wastes of Antarctica.
They had to open several boxes to find something about their size. Obviously Doc Tempest had a penchant for hiring only tall people. But after five minutes of rummaging they had located long-sleeved tops complete with gloves, and trousers with built-in socks. They were all made out of a thin material like a wetsuit, but it offered much greater insulation and they all fitted nicely under their jeans and T-shirts. They also found thicker, thermal coats with fur-lined hoods. The multiple layers would certainly keep them warm in the coldest place on earth.
They’d hidden behind a tall stack of boxes as they plundered the supplies, but had been oblivious to how much noise or mess they were creating as they tore open the plastic wrapping the clothes came in.
“Wot you doin’ ’ere?” snarled a deep voice.
A gorilla of a man stood over them. Pete was balanced on one foot and so toppled over in surprise. Toby hesitated.
“Um … quality inspection?”
The huge man punched a fist into his open palm. His hands were the size of plates. “Fink we ’ave trespassers!” the gorilla rumbled. He leaned down and grabbed Pete by the scruff of his jacket. Pete’s feet pedaled helplessly as he was hoisted up.
“Let him go!” growled Toby.
The man turned his enormous head toward Toby and grinned, showing tombstonelike teeth. “Or wot?”
“A good question,” thought Toby. Hurling a fireball at the man seemed a little extreme, and he didn’t have time to experiment to find out what other powers he’d downloaded.
Instead, he threw a punch. Toby knew it would be like hitting an elephant, but he had to try something. His fist arced toward the man’s flabby stomach. Toby watched in astonishment as his hand grew larger, his fingers swelling into fat sausages, then bigger still. By the time his hand had connected with the thug’s stomach it was three times larger than normal.
And much more devastating.
The man dropped Pete and crumpled over as Toby slugged him in the gut. The giant fist propelled him ten feet across the hangar before he slammed into a shelving unit and was buried under a mound of heavy boxes that knocked him out cold.
Toby stared at his hand. It rapidly shrank back to normal.
“Wow,” said Pete. “Can you do that with the rest of your body?”
Luckily nobody paid too much attention to the falling boxes across the other side of the hangar. Had they bothered to investigate, the work crew knew a supervisor would only order them to clean up the mess. It was less effort to turn a blind eye to somebody’s bad stacking. They didn’t see the two boys race across the hangar and climb on top of the pallet nearest the door. It was a plan concocted at the spur of the moment by Toby, and seemed to be the easiest way onto the aircraft. They lay flat, the whole pallet rocking as the forklift scooped it up. The boys were carried across the runway and up the loading ramp of the Hercules.
They waited as technicians secured the pallet with straps so it wouldn’t shift during flight. Receding footsteps down the ramp indicated the boys were alone. But they waited for the loud rumble of the cargo door to automatically close before they clambered from their hiding place.
Several dim recessed ceiling lights lit the hold. All of the available floor space was taken up with supply pallets. They climbed over the boxes; at the front of the cargo hold were two grubby and frayed padded chairs bolted to the wall, facing the wrong way like those used by airline attendants.
Between the seats was a door that was open a crack. It led to the cockpit. Toby placed his finger over his lips to silence Pete, who was about to speak. If the pilot caught them now, their plan would be ruined.
Toby edged forward and peered through the gap into the cockpit as they felt the four powerful turboprop engines vibrate to life with a deep rumble. His brow furrowed; there was no pilot. Instead, a basic droid torso sat at the controls. A pair of multisegmented arms gripped the control stick, a rudimentary set of feet stretched to the rudder controls, and a third geared arm gripped the throttle. Even more alarming, the autopilot had no head! Instead, a bundle of wires fed into the machine from the control panel. The whole appearance was, well, makeshift.
“There’s a robot flying the plane!”
Pete gaped and pushed forward to look. He came away a bit disappointed.
“You know, with all that money he’s stolen, you’d expect Tempest to build something cool. This looks like a lot of junk welded together!”
The cockpit door suddenly slammed shut, locking automatically with solid cross spars. Pete tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Before he could try anything else, the plane rocked as it started to taxi.
“Better strap in fast!” shouted Toby.
They dashed into the jump seats as the aircraft taxied across the runway and took position. They had just managed to strap themselves in as the plane bounced forward, thrusting them forcibly against their harnesses. Taking off backward was most definitely a different experience.
The Hercules transport plane rose so steeply that if they hadn’t strapped themselves in, they would have fallen hard to the back.
When the plane finally leveled they allowed themselves to relax. Eventually Pete nodded off, snoring deeply. Toby slumbered uneasily, even though the last few nights were catching up to him, making him feel weak. He was worried about his mother, Lorna, and Emily. He hoped they were safe and sound, even though he knew they were in grave danger.
The Storm Engine
Doc Tempest sat behind a desk, in front of a highdefinition video camera. The man behind the camera had once worked in the fashion business, and hated the black and gray uniform he had to wear now. But he didn’t complain. This job paid much more, and he had the responsibility for coordinating the ransom demands. Right now he was trying to convince the maniacal supervillain before him to put on a little makeup.
“NO!” bellowed Tempest.
“But … your skin,” stammered the man in his Spanish accent. “Your skin is so greasy. It reflects the light like a mirror!”
“It’s supposed to be greasy! I’m supposed to look menacing!”
The other technicians in the command center tactfully avoided looking, and instead intently studied the computer screens that controlled every aspect of the base.
“Okay, okay … when you’re ready then.”
The Spaniard switched on the camera and folded his arms expectantly. Doc Tempest glowered across the table.
“My name is Doc Tempest, and already you have seen the awesome power of my wever machine. And I—”
“Stop! Stop!” screamed the man, pausing the camera.
“What?” fumed Tempest. “I was in mid-flow, you idiot!”
“You said ‘wever’ … not ‘weather’ … you missed the ‘th.’”
Tempest’s eyes burned furiously. “I did not.”
“Did too, and it didn’t sound menacing at all.”
Doc Tempest sucked in his breath and ran his tongue over his pointed teeth. He hated them and was sure they made him lisp, and when he bit his tongue, it was sheer agony. But he said nothing. He nodded and twirled his finger to indicate the camera should be started again.
“Action,” piped the cameraman after he had pressed the button.
“My name is Doc Tempest.” He slammed his fist against the desk for emphasis with such force the vibrations made the camera tip over. The cameraman lun
ged for it, catching it just before it hit the floor.
“Don’t do that!” he scolded.
“Keep rolling!” Tempest shouted, as the cameraman leveled the tripod. “My name is—”
A high-pitched beep suddenly rose from the control panel, completely throwing Tempest. He jumped to his feet, clenched his fist and punched the air toward the Spaniard. A blazing white beam enveloped him, barely giving him time to raise his arms. When the light died everybody could see he was covered in a glistening frost, literally frozen on the spot.
Doc Tempest spun round and glared at his technicians. “What is that alarm?”
“It’s the airborne radar, it has detected one of the scheduled transport aircraft.”
“So? It’s supposed to be here.”
“Ah … but it’s detected two life-forms on board. Definitely human, and there’s supposed to be nothing but supplies.”
Tempest strode over to the terminal and studied the radar screen. It showed black swirling storm clouds, and one solid inbound blip that was identified as a C-130 Hercules Transport.
“People?”
“I radioed the depot. They said they didn’t put anybody on board. It’s unauthorized.”
Doc Tempest glared at the screen. “It’s them, trying to sneak in on a rescue mission.”
“What shall we do?”
“Blow them out of the sky.”
Tempest thumbed a button, which activated the drinks dispenser. He sighed. He really would have to have a word with the Council of Evil electricians who had labeled everything incorrectly.
He thumbed another button and activated the missile defense system.
Across the frozen wasteland, a mound of snow cracked, then chunks fell away as the missile launcher buried beneath spun to life. The hydraulic rig twisted the four Patriot missiles skyward, tracking the aircraft hidden in the dense clouds. The radar had locked on to the heat signature of the Hercules’ portside engines.
The exhaust of the missile flared to life, and it shot into the sky. There was no way it would miss its target.
The Hercules shimmied as a violent blizzard shook it. Pete gripped his harness tightly. Even though he had superpowers, he felt safer holding on to something solid. His sleep had been troubled by a dream in which he saw Lorna pointing an accusing finger at him and he had woken up with a yelp.
“We must almost be there,” said Toby. “Air temperature’s really dropped.”
Pete licked his dry lips and plucked up the courage to speak. “Tobe … there’s something I need to tell you.”
Toby frowned. With the danger they were going to be in, now was not the time for confessions or complaints.
“It’s about Lorna. I … I sho—”
Tempest’s missile chose that moment to slam into the port-side engine, and words were snatched from Pete’s mouth as the aircraft dropped from the sky.
Emily looked up as her cell door slid open and she tensed herself, ready for anything.
Nobody was there.
She edged into the corridor. It was empty.
“Hello?”
The air suddenly shimmered right in front of her; it looked like a heat haze but resolved itself into a familiar face that was beaming from ear to ear.
“Lorna!” exclaimed Emily, attempting to hug her friend with her handcuffed hands. “You’re alive! How did you manage that? I thought Pete had … had …”
“Remember I clicked on that blank button on the Web site and we thought it wasn’t a real option? It turns out it was invisibility! When Pete blew up that glider, I just managed to get out of the way but got such a fright that it triggered the power.”
Emily shook her head, relieved that she was wrong about Pete.
“I fought Tempest alongside you and I was in front of my brother when those thugs fired their resin-rifles. That saved him and Pete from getting caught. Luckily nobody thought to check the other glue pile. That was me in there.”
“So you followed me in?”
“I watched where they put you.” Lorna looked apologetic. “I didn’t free you because I thought that might trigger some alarms and I needed to explore the base.”
“I would have done the same. What did you discover?”
“I found out Doc Tempest is using weather control to blackmail governments so he can take over entire countries. And I found my mom!”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s weak and needs her insulin, but at least she’s still able to walk. Of course she couldn’t see me, and I didn’t want to just talk to her. I mean, hearing a voice talking to you from thin air is spooky. And I suddenly realized that if she saw me, then I’d have to explain about us all being here. She’d know our secret.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. So how are we going to get her out without her knowing it’s us?”
“I have no idea. But I freed her, so she’s wandering around here somewhere. She was on a different level than you. I thought I’d better get you next.”
“Thanks, but I still have these things,” Emily said, holding up her shackled wrists.
“Ah, time for my other power. Hold your hands out.”
Emily extended her arms as far as possible. Lorna held her hand out, fingers rigid like a karate pose. Then her hands started to glow white-hot.
“I’ve never actually seen this before!” cried Lorna excitedly. “I was invisible every other time!”
She struck down, easily severing Emily’s handcuffs; the metal bubbled from the heat. Emily shook them off, rubbing life back into her wrists. Lorna blew on her hands, the heat suddenly vanishing.
“There you go!”
“Nice trick,” agreed Emily. “Now let’s get your mom and get out of here.”
She took a step forward, but Lorna grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “It’s not going to be that easy.”
“Why not?”
“We only have a few hours left with these powers. We don’t want Mom to know about them. And we can’t leave Tempest to carry out the rest of his plan. He’s crazy enough to destroy the world!”
“So you’re saying we have to stop all of this on our own?”
“We won’t be on our own. If I know my brother, he’ll probably already be here.”
Toby stumbled in the snow, falling flat on his face. He was weak from both grief and lack of sleep. The missiles had struck the Hercules and they had crashed into the mountainside. The last he saw of Pete was when the burning fuselage raced down the slope toward them. He wondered what Pete was trying to tell him before the missile hit. Toby forced himself to cling on to the reason they had come to this inhospitable wilderness—to find Lorna and to rescue his mother and Emily.
He picked himself up, his clothes so white with frost he almost blended into the landscape. Through the blizzard he could just see the rest of the towering peaks of the Antarctic’s Neptune Range, in particular one that had a pair of flashing beacons indicating the entrance to a hangar. That had to be Doc Tempest’s lair.
The only problem was, it was going to be a long climb.
“You know, Toby,” said a voice, “you always have to do things the hard way.”
Toby blinked the snow from his eyes and looked up. Pete was hovering just above him.
“Pete? You’re alive!”
“Of course I am! Unlike you, I keep remembering that I can fly! Why are you walking, you idiot? After Tempest’s hurricane, these winds aren’t so bad.”
Toby started to shake with relief. The fatigue he had been feeling dropped from his shoulders and he suddenly felt like he could go for hours without stopping. He jumped into the air and hovered next to his best friend.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you!” he said.
“Toby, I need to tell you something.”
Toby shook his head. “No, tell me after all this is over. We’re so close to rescuing them now. That’s what’s important.”
Pete took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go and be he
roes!”
Footsteps echoed down the ice corridor. Sarah stopped and tensed as the footsteps continued, getting louder as they approached. A quick check confirmed that there were no hiding places in the corridor, and she had come too far to go back and hide. Instead she raised the rifle she had taken, and aimed it like she had seen in so many movies. The barrel trembled in her weakened state.
A guard turned the corner, his nose buried in a comic as he walked. He changed direction automatically, only looking up at the last moment to see the business end of a resin-rifle pointing right at him.
“This is your unlucky day,” Sarah said through gritted teeth, and fired. There was no recoil in the weapon, just a hiss of gas as three black, sticky globules shot out, striking the man across the mouth and chest and crumpling his comic book. He staggered backward as the glue-balls expanded, fastening him against the wall.
Sarah examined her handiwork with satisfaction. “Oops,” she said with a smile as she passed him. She was unsure where she found the energy to keep walking. She had to get her insulin, and fast. It was only a matter of time before she became hypoglycemic and passed out.
She forced herself to continue down the stark corridor, and praised herself on handling the unreal situation so well. She had finally accepted that all that had happened wasn’t a hallucination brought on by her illness. First a tornado had struck her house, created by a villain who had kidnapped her; then she had been brought to a secret ice base where a bunch of would-be saviors flew through the air. Then the freaky-headed kidnapper had warned that her children should not try to rescue her. And despite the odds, she had managed to escape.
It was notably warmer. Sarah slowed her pace as a set of sliding double doors became visible ahead. She approached cautiously, rifle poised, ears straining against the silence. The doors slid open as she got close and a warm red glow emanated from within. Curious, Sarah edged closer and peered around the corner.
She had a view from a balcony at the top of the spacious room, overlooking a transparent cylinder that was as wide as a street and six stories high. Metallic rings were set along the tube at regular intervals and a red pulse of energy occasionally shot up the column.
