by K. A. Holt
“Albert!” Mom’s voice sounded distressed as she came hurrying down the hall. Hubble was right behind her, as were lots of other people.
The goon looked like he was ready for a full-on throw-down with Dad, but luckily a couple of strong-looking guys from the crowd of Spirit and Sojourner folks came up and kept the goon from attacking.
With the Spirit and the Sojourner crews now combined, they easily outnumbered the Project goons.
“Mike!” Mom shouted from across the lobby. She charged toward me. Her nose was bloody and her flight suit was ripped, but she wore the biggest smile I’d ever seen.
“Mom!” I shouted. She bear-hugged me and I hugged her right back.
“Michael,” she said, cupping my face, “where have you been?” She let go of my face and held me at arm’s length while she looked me over.
“Nowhere, really …,” I said, and then the room tipped onto its side. I stumbled to catch my balance, expecting to see people flying everywhere. Did something just hit the ship? I didn’t think these big ships could turn sideways!
“Michael!” Hubble shouted, running down the wall toward me. Then I realized that Hubble wasn’t on the wall at all. Nothing was wrong with the ship. I was just extraordinarily dizzy.
“What have you been doing, Mr. Man?” Mom asked, her face swirling.
“Spacewalking,” I mumbled.
“Mother of donkeys, Mike,” Hubble said.
“I ran out of oxygen, after I melted the wires,” I said, feeling very groggy
“Melted the wires?” Mom looked incredulous. “Outside the ship?”
I nodded, watching black spots float in front of my eyes.
“We have to get him to the Sojourner sick bay,” someone said in a faraway voice.
Another voice said, “Gather up the prisoners and get them onto the Sojourner as fast as you can.”
I grabbed my head to try to stop the pounding.
“We need to abandon the Spirit and hop the next wormhole out of here,” Mom said in slow motion. “A salvage crew can—”
The last thing I saw was a sideways view of Mom’s boots and the dirty floor of the Spirit.
“You have made a terrible mistake,” Mr. Shugabert growled.
My eyes flew open.
Ugh. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. I lifted my head and zigzagging shots of pain exploded from eyeball to eyeball. The rest of me didn’t feel great, either.
“You have started a war!” Shugabert’s awful voice shouted.
Struggling through the pain, I sat up. Where was I? Did Sugar Bear have me at last?
“You’ll never catch me!” I yelled at him. Or tried to yell. My voice came out slow and fuzzy, like Preditator when his batteries are running low.
I tried to jump out of bed and then realized I was tethered by an IV. What the …?
A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and gently pushed me back into a pile of pillows. “Calm down, snotdog. You’re safe. It’s just the viserator.”
I was in a hospital room? On Earth? My eyes bugging, I looked down and saw that I was in my favorite MonsterMetalMachines T-shirt and boxers. Feeling terribly dizzy, but happy, I blinked a couple of times. As my eyes focused, I saw Stinky, Mom, Dad, Nita, and Hubble sitting at my bedside, watching the vis.
“Turn that irritating thing off,” Mom commanded, and Nita switched off the vis. Sugar Bear’s image, his hands and feet shackled, his face purple with rage as two police officers led him into a courthouse, flickered off.
“What?” I started. “What’s going on?”
“You’re home!” Stinky yelled gleefully, very gently socking me on the shoulder. “You’re back! And you’re a hero!”
I reached for the cup of water on a little table next to the bed. I swallowed a few sips and instantly felt refreshed.
“Added a little energy juju to that water,” Dad said, motioning to my cup. “Ought to help you feel better pretty quickly.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. My voice was already less fuzzy and more normal.
“Yeah, you better thank me. You’re being discharged today. And if you’re up for it, you’re due back in school tomorrow morning.”
“School! After all of this?” I was incredulous.
“You know how important a good education is, Mike,” Mom said, ruffling my hair. “Plus, I managed to save your handheld for you. It looks like that report you were working on is finally done. Good job, Mr. Man.”
I looked from person to person, in a state of shock. “School? I have to go back to school?”
“Get your naps in now, champ,” Stinky said. “You’ve been laying around in this bed for four days. Mrs. H has a stack of homework for you that’s taller than me.”
I covered my face with my hands and tried to pass out again. No such luck.
“When I woke up this morning, I was nervous about finally giving my report.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I was all prepared and then I spent four days in the hospital hoping I didn’t have brain damage.” I smiled at my attempted joke and glanced at Mrs. H. She motioned for me to keep going.
“But here I go … and I want you to know, I’ve been researching this thing forever, so you better get comfortable.”
I launched into my report, covering everything from mirror-sails to frankenbugs. I covered the Project and the recent moratorium on terraforming, enacted by the government until their investigation into Aurora Hazelwood is complete. I talked about how terraforming is, or was going to be, a huge business, and how Aurora wanted to own a lot of companies that would help build colonies on terraformed planets, and how her dad said that was an ethical breach, and that was why she shipped him out to space and stranded him there by sending a virus to the plasma-propulsion units on the Spirit. I talked and talked until I needed some water. Then I talked some more.
I talked about the importance of proper research before jumping into something as complicated as terraforming. I talked about how if you terraform a planet too quickly, you can destroy it—just like what was happening to Aries. I talked about watchdog groups like the EFEs and how they’re not lunatics, but an important part of society.
I kept talking until the other kids started eating their lunches at their desks. They were mesmerized by my presentation. They asked questions and I answered them. Mrs. H sat quietly at her desk, watching me with a sort of smile.
The amazing thing is that I slowly started to kind of have fun. I actually liked telling the class about what I’d learned. And I liked that they listened to me. And Stinky kept yelling things like “Don’t forget to tell everybody that your parents eventually figured out the Spirit was out there the whole time, but Aurora had tried to bury that information!” and “How do you feel about your whole family being heroes for safely bringing the crews of Spirit and Sojourner home?” He was determined to make sure everyone understood that my parents were the good guys—and always had been. I was happy to let him interrupt. Mrs. H kept shaking her head, but she didn’t stop him.
When I finally finished, I took a small silly bow and everyone clapped. I felt completely, utterly relieved. Not relieved to have my report finished, but relieved that everyone finally knew that my parents were heroes, not criminals. I hoped they all felt bad for how they treated me and my family. But schoolkids seemed petty after what I’d seen…. Marcy Fartsy is nothing compared to Mr. Shugabert.
After my bow I told the class that my report was dedicated to the world’s only Liberation and Rescue Cyborg. Mrs. H smiled at that and I didn’t even hear her face creak.
When the final bell rang, I gathered up my stuff.
“Come on,” Stinky said, tugging my arm. “There’s a MonsterMetalMachines marathon on channel 785. It starts in ten minutes. Hubble said he’d watch it with us.”
We were about halfway to the door when the room darkened around us and that unmistakable smell of burnt coffee beans assaulted my nose. The tower of blue hair lunged in front of me and I stopped short.
“Mr. Stell
ar,” Mrs. H said with her trademark sneer, “I wonder if you wouldn’t join me for a minute?”
I hesitated, even though I knew she shouldn’t be out to get me now. I took a deep breath and said to Stinky, “I’ll meet you outside.” Stinky bugged out his eyes as if to say “You’re in trouble already?” and he walked quickly out the door.
I followed Mrs. H back to her desk.
“I know that you know I’m not really a teacher, Michael,” she said, raising her eyes slowly to meet mine. I looked away out of habit.
“But nobody else knows that. The Project wants to keep my involvement in this whole … fiasco under wraps. I quite agree with them. That’s why I’m here to finish out the school year. After this, though, I’m going back to my quiet retirement. And I don’t want to be followed by viserator reporters; I don’t want to write any books; and I don’t want anyone to be able to find me.”
I looked at her and nodded solemnly.
“Now, I know I’ve been tough on you, Michael. Sometimes you deserved it.”
I gave a half smile.
She folded her arms across her chest and conceded, “Sometimes you didn’t. And for that, I’m sorry. Initially I was excited by the proposition of a new search-and-rescue mission. But as the months wore on, I began to think your parents couldn’t pull it off. I’m sorry for that, too. And I’m sorry for taking out my frustration with them on you.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t believe I was standing here with Venus Aldrin, Mrs. Halebopp, whoever … apologizing to me.
“Now,” she said, regaining her stern, teacherly voice, “I understand it’s customary for me to take a few days to grade big reports like this, but I wanted to go on and give you your grade now so that you can get started on your next assignment.”
“Okay,” I said, fearing what was about to come.
“Because you presented orally, I won’t take points off for your use of first person. And your editorial comments were very relevant, considering the personal experiences you had regarding your subject. So other than speaking too softly at first, and then going on way too long … you did a pretty good job.”
“P-p-pretty good?” I sputtered, not accustomed to compliments from her.
Mrs. Halebopp laughed. “You did a fine job, Mike. I give you an A.”
I swallowed.
“An A, Mike. Did you hear me?”
“Sure. An A.”
“You want a D instead?”
“No!” I said quickly. “I’m happy to have an A. I love As! Thank you.”
“Michael.”
“Hmm?”
“Look at me. What’s bothering you? You’re not yourself. I’m not getting any smart-mouth comebacks. No excitement at all. What’s the matter?”
I don’t know why I opened up to her of all people … but I did. “I’m sad to have lost Larc. It’s not fair to get Hubble back and lose someone else. Why did there have to be a trade-off? Why can’t I have them both?”
“Oh, Michael, dear boy.” Mrs. Halebopp hugged me. And though it should have been disgusting, it wasn’t. “I know you miss her. I miss her, too.”
Mrs. H reached into her desk and pulled out a disc for my handheld. “Before I say anything else, I want to give you this. It’s your next assignment. I hope you do just as well on it.”
A little confused about the abrupt change of subject, I took the disc. But before I could slide it into my handheld, she pulled something else out of her desk. It was a small metal box with a blinking blue light. She looked at it kind of … lovingly … and then handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Why don’t you ask it?” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
I held the box up to the light and gave it a good once-over. It didn’t look like anything special, just a shiny aluminum box about the size of my palm. But when I ran my hand over the blue light, the box spoke.
It said, “Space-time curvature!” in a very familiar voice.
“Larc?” I asked, furrowing my brow and shaking the box.
“Ack. Don’t. Shake. Me.”
Mrs. H laughed. “Now, don’t get too excited, Mike. She obviously still has a long way to go. But in a few months Larc will be back in action. Only without the plasma-propulsion fuel cells this time.”
“Yeah,” the box said. “That sucked.”
This time I laughed. “It really is you!”
“Well, technically, it’s my central processor.”
“Hubble managed to get it off the Spirit,” Mrs. H said. “He didn’t know if Jim would be able to reactivate it, but Jim’s a genius.”
“He sure is,” I said.
“Genius. Genius. Genius,” the box said.
“Speaking of genius,” Mrs. H said, regaining her teacher voice, “I expect genius from you on your next project.”
I slid the disc into my handheld. It said, “Please discuss, in detail, the principles behind travel through multiple dimensions.” I furrowed my brow.
“Don’t worry, Mike. I have a feeling you’ll do just fine. Besides, Larc is being reprogrammed to tutor students in dimensional travel.”
“Quite a coincidence,” I marveled, a smile growing on my face.
“Yes,” Mrs. H answered with a sly grin. “Quite.”
“What’s happening?” the box asked. “I can’t see a thing.”
We laughed. Then Mrs. H reached out her hand. “For now, though, Mike, I’m going to need the box back. Jim needs it for programming. But you’re welcome to visit him anytime you want.”
I handed the box back and said, “Sure. That would be great. Hey, Larc, I’m going airboarding at your nanny’s park this weekend.”
“My nanny!” said Larc, with a great hee-haw.
“And, Mike,” Mrs. Halebopp said, standing up from her desk and walking me to the classroom door, “the new teacher will expect your dimensional travel report immediately after the three-week summer break. Barring any crazed executive assistant spies, intra-universal space-walking sickness, or escape pod hijackings, I would expect you to get it turned in on time.”
I chuckled as I stood by the classroom door, happy to feel a breeze ruffle my hair. I realized I wasn’t bothered by the burnt coffee bean smell. I smiled. Mrs. H gave me a long look with her not-quite-so-scary beetle-black eyes. And then she winked. It was a creak-free wink, and it didn’t creep me out at all. I waved bye to Mrs. H and jogged over to Stinky.
“Hurry up!” Stinky said, walking briskly down the sidewalk and shouting at me over his shoulder. “Preditator ate ScoopaZoid five minutes ago. Hubble just called on the peapod. Come on before we miss the whole thing!”
“Okay, okay, you fart on a stick, I’m coming.” I ran past him and whacked him on the arm. “Last one there has to sit between the lovebirds. Moooonster-MetalMachines …”
K. A. Holt lives a life of mayhem in Austin, Texas, with her husband, two children, and annoying dog. When she is not writing space adventures or daydreaming about time travel, she enjoys eating lots and lots of chocolate and watching too much television. K.A. also enjoys gardening, but because she does not enjoy sweating or being away from her computer, this is a hobby she mostly pretends to enjoy. Mike Stellar: Nerves of Steel is K.A.’s first book for children.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2009 by Kari Anne Roy
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of
Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Holt, K. A.
Mike Stellar: nerves of steel / K. A. Holt.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Mike is suspicious when his family joins an expedition to Mars at the last
minute, and his fears are confirmed when all of the adults on the colonizing mission,
including his parents, begin to act strangely.
eISBN: 978-0-375-85385-2
[1. Planets—Environmental engineering—Fiction. 2. Space flight to Mars—Fiction.
3. Cyborgs—Fiction. 4. Space colonies—Fiction. 5. Family life—Fiction.
6. Science fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H7402Mik 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2008027272
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and
celebrates the right to read.
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