by Matt London
His father’s voice crackled over Rick’s earpiece. “This is the Condor. We’re in position. Waiting for your signal.”
Then another voice followed. “Copy that, Daddy-o. This is Groovy Ruby. We are locked and ready to rock.”
Rick tapped the earpiece. “You are good to go, Tristan. You too, Daddy-o. Er, um, I mean, Dad.”
Dad let out a wild whoop and holler over the communicator as his silver bird-shaped hovership, the Condor, roared across the sky. Huge black speakers were strapped to the wings of the hovership. Propped on top of the vehicle was a round podium fitted with a keyboard, drum set, and microphone. Even from this great distance, Rick could make out Tristan Ruby’s silvery spike of hair. He slammed the keys, banged the drums, and hooted like a flock of tone-deaf parakeets, pumping enough sound out of the speakers to shatter windows and make a librarian faint. The Condor swung a wide arc over Winterpole’s launchpad. This was step two of their plan.
After a few moments of epic noise, a squad of Winterpole shuttles took to the air, led by a winged boy with a shaved head. The Condor drew them away from the Winterpole complex.
Perfect. Nodding in satisfaction, Rick ducked into the secret entrance. The diversion he planned with his parents and the rest of the Science Circle had worked, and now it was up to him to free the captive Winterpole agents and retake the complex from Benjamin and his cohorts. If Diana hadn’t sent Rick that secret message warning him of the takeover, he wasn’t sure what they would have done.
A chill crept up Rick’s spine as he navigated the cold, dark tunnels. Benjamin Nagg had survived the destruction of New Miami, but at great cost. Doused in Anti-Eden Compound, he had become something between a human and a machine. Rick had difficulty imagining it, though Diana’s message had been unambiguous.
And freaky.
Twice Rick paused to allow patrols to pass through corridors so they wouldn’t notice him. He felt sick when he thought how these same Winterpole agents had happily served Scifun only days earlier. Then there was the so-called Brat Brigade, the team of animal cyborg kids. Rick had seen some early clues to what Mastercorp was planning a year ago on the Cichlid, but he had no idea this would be the final result of Aniarmament. It made his head feel like the crusty glob at the bottom of a yogurt cup.
He found the detention block deep in the heart of the compound. An icy door set in an icy wall obstructed his way. At least Winterpole architecture was consistent.
Rick withdrew a cyber document from his satchel. He had heard of contracts having a rider, a fancy name for something added to a legal document. This paper he had drawn up had an overrider, something unique to cyberpaper that could overrule any Winterpole programming. He waved it in front of the door. An electrical charge shot from the document and zapped the door’s security mechanism, overriding the lock. The door swung open and Rick went inside.
Rows of cells lined the hallway. Rick hurried, checking the dark confines of each room for his friend. He found Diana in a small room at the end, sitting on the floor with Mister Snow and several other agents.
“I’m here!” Rick whispered. “Is everyone all right?”
Diana rushed the bars of the cell, reached through them, and pulled Rick into a hug. Dong! Rick’s head banged on the iron bars.
“Oh, Rick!” Diana exclaimed. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
“Good?” Mister Snow sneered. His knees creaked as he rose to his feet. “Good would be if I’d never agreed to work with you lunatic Lanes. I used to be Winterpole’s finest agent. Now look at me. A prisoner and a disgrace.”
His words put a sour taste in Rick’s mouth. “A disgrace would be following the orders of Benjamin Nagg because of a stupid ownership form. Use your head, Mister Snow. Are you a leader? Or do you let the rules lead you?”
“Rules are important.”
“Because the rules serve the people,” Rick said. “Rules protect the people. If they stop doing that, then they’re no good, and they must be changed.”
“Let me out of here, Richard Lane!” Mister Snow banged his fist on the bars of the cell.
“Are you sure?” Rick held up his hands. “That would be against the rules.”
“Grrrr . . .” Mister Snow paced the room angrily. The other agents hid their smiles.
Rick used his overrider on the cell door and it popped open.
“Now what?” Diana asked, straightening out her agent uniform.
Rick led the way out of the detention block. “We have to find your mother. She holds the power. All Benjamin has is the Ultimate Continent Ownership Form. If we can get your mom to nullify that form, we can regain control of Winterpole.”
“But Rick—” Diana stopped short, looking worried. “My mom doesn’t have the power to nullify the ownership form. Only the Director of Winterpole can do that.”
“Right. Him.” Rick took a deep breath. “Diana, there’s something that has been on my mind. Have you ever seen the Director?”
“Of course,” Diana said. “I saw him right before I sent my SOS message to you.”
“I don’t mean on one of his weird video screen things or isolation chambers. Have you ever seen inside that dome? Or inside his private office? Have you ever seen the Director . . . in the flesh?”
“What is this boy yammering about?” Mister Snow growled. “We are wasting valuable time discussing this nonsense.”
Rick turned to face the older Winterpole agent. “When was the last time you saw the Director, Mister Snow?”
“I shouldn’t even answer such a ridiculous question, but the last time I saw the Director’s face was . . . Well, um . . . Actually—no, wait. I think it was . . .”
“Have you ever seen the Director?” Rick asked.
Mister Snow’s face went as white as his name. “You know, now that I think about it, I don’t believe I have.”
“So what does that mean?” Diana looked spooked. “Is the Director of Winterpole . . . a ghost?”
“Well, ghosts aren’t real,” Rick said. “But maybe the Director is a sophisticated AI, you know, artificial intelligence masking itself as human. Think about it, a computer program is designed for efficiency and rule making. Who better to lead Winterpole than a supercomputer?”
“Unbelievable,” Mister Snow said.
“Mister Snow is right,” Diana said, “Winterpole having technology that advanced is pretty unbelievable.”
Rick shrugged. “It’s a long-shot theory, but I have a gut feeling. Think about it. He’s tapped in to all that computer technology, he runs a mechanical organization that follows an inflexible set of rules, just like a computer. What if, long ago, the computer that managed all of Winterpole’s systems . . . took over?”
“And then the computer created a human disguise?” Diana asked.
“It’s possible,” Rick said. “If the Director is a super-computer and not a real man, then your mom does have the power to nullify the form and stop Benjamin Nagg. And if there is one person who knows the truth—”
“Yeah,” Diana swallowed hard. “I need to take you to my mother.”
ON MANY OCCASIONS THE ROOST HAD FLOWN OVER A SEA, BUT THIS TIME THE SEA WAS AN endless stretch of coarse sand. The Sahara Desert had more sand in it than Evie found in her shoes after running on the beaches of Scifun, and that was saying something.
Sprout looked out the window and hollered. “Hoo-wee! Look at that desert. And not a crop in sight. Are you sure there’s a farm out here, Evie?”
“That’s what Doctor Grant’s hard drive said.”
Evie couldn’t believe the treasure trove she had found on the salvaged hard drive. After rescuing Sprout from the attack of the giant mixing vat, they had returned to the surface to examine the drive on the Roost. On the way back, Evie couldn’t resist teasing Sprout.
“Evie battles—and conquers—a killer robot shark, and the heroic Sprout, well, he was done in by a bowl.”
“It was a big bowl, Evie,” he said with a Sprout pout.
Niels Bohr meowed in amusement. When they returned to the Roost, Evie plugged in the drive. To her amazement, it powered on. The files on the drive didn’t contain any information about the Eden Compound, but in a sub-sub-sub-directory, Evie found a text file that read “Farm Access Code 244” along with some coordinates. Using the Roost’s navigation system, Evie and Sprout had uncovered the location of this supposed farm: west of Cairo, in the Egyptian desert.
“But I don’t see nothing nowhere,” Sprout complained as the flying tree hovership crossed over the sand dunes.
“Keep looking,” Evie said. “I’m sure we’ll find—hey, what’s that?”
She had spotted something shiny and silver on the horizon. Was it a mirage? She steered the Roost toward the reflective strip. As they neared the target, they found a vast flat area blanketed with huge solar panels, each the size of a house.
There was an open space in the center of the expanse for hovership landings, and beside that was an operations building.
Evie steered her old hovership in for a landing and powered down the engines. Niels Bohr padded across the control console, stepping on buttons and flicking levers. Alarms blared, lights turned on and off. Evie sighed. “Maybe it’s better if you stay here and guard the Roost, Niels Bohr. Try not to destroy it.”
“Mrrowl!” purred Niels Bohr.
Evie and Sprout emerged into the hot, powerful sunlight.
A man in big sunglasses approached them, wearing a plaid shirt and dusty jeans. Niels Bohr bolted from the Roost and scampered across the ground, brushing against the man’s legs and purring. The man scooped up the tiger cat and scratched him behind the ears. “Niels Bohr! It’s good to see you again, old boy. What are you doing here? And . . . oh! Hello, children. I’m Doctor Mahmoun. Are you lost?”
“I hope not!” Evie said. “I’m Evie Lane. This is my friend Sprout Sanchez. We’re trying to find a farm.”
“A farm? Out here in the desert?” Doctor Mahmoun raised an eyebrow as he scratched under Niels Bohr’s chin.
Evie said, “You know Niels Bohr, so you must also have known his owner, Doctor Grant. I know this sounds strange, but Doctor Grant was our friend and he left us clues about a farm located right here. I thought maybe we’d find a hydroponics farm, or a vegetable-cloning lab.”
Doctor Mahmoun chuckled loudly, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. “Oh, that prankster. I suppose I can trust you since Niels here clearly approves of you. This is Doctor Grant’s farm. Right here. A sun farm. We built it together.”
Sprout took off his hat and fanned himself, looking perplexed. “But farms are for growing food! If you took a bite of the sun, it would burn the roof of your mouth but rightly.”
Evie snorted. “No, you goose. Solar power! They’re farming the sun’s rays with these huge solar panels, out here in the desert where the sun is bright.”
“Precisely!” Doctor Mahmoun said as Niels Bohr pawed his chest. “Doctor Grant pioneered the design of this sun farm. It took us years to build, but the clean energy it generates would boggle your young minds! We get to spread that power all over the world. I only regret that Doctor Grant did not live to see its completion.”
Evie nodded sadly.
Sprout stepped in. “Doctor Grant’s notes on this farm mentioned an access code. Do you know anything about that?”
“Access code?” Doctor Mahmoun thought for a moment. “Oh, of course! Doctor Grant kept a private lab in an empty temple near here. But since he left the project so many years ago, the lab has been locked tight. None of us could get in.”
“But maybe we can.” Evie looked between Sprout and Doctor Mahmoun.
Doctor Mahmoun provided them with directions, but as Evie and Sprout were about to leave, he cleared his throat.
“If it’s all right, I would like to keep Niels Bohr here, with me.”
“What? You want to . . . keep him?”
Doctor Mahmoun nodded. “We’re old pals. Besides, my puppy, Werner Heisenberg, could use some company. Judging from this cat’s poor whiskers, he’s about had it with action and adventure. Maybe just some tuna fish and a head scratch for you now, eh, Niels?”
Niels Bohr meowed his approval.
“Oh . . .” Evie felt sad, even though Niels Bohr seemed happy. “I guess that’s okay. If it’s what he wants.”
Evie and Sprout gave Niels Bohr one last pet goodbye before returning to the Roost. They headed south and soon came upon a pyramid that looked like it had been baked in the oven too long. This was not a pyramid like the famous world wonder pyramids in Cairo. This pyramid was made of blocky black bricks that looked like they might crumble into dust at any moment.
Evie landed the Roost on a nearby sand dune.
Sprout tightened his belt. His lariat and trusty machete hung off either hip. Evie smiled at him. “You look like you were born to explore a hidden temple.”
“Really?” Sprout tipped back his cowboy hat and gave his lariat a practice flick. “Why do you say that?”
Outside, Evie and Sprout got a better look at the pyramid. Guarding the entrance were two brown statues that looked like muscular men but with the heads of eagles. And they were huge, like the giant battling robots in one of Rick’s video games. The two kids ran across the sand to the entrance. There was an open doorway about ten feet across. There was a flight of stairs that descended into blackness.
“Well,” Evie said, “let’s go.”
Sprout said, “Wait. Do you hear that?”
Evie listened for a sound on the wind. It was the whine of a hover engine. She craned her neck to look up at the sky and saw an angular black shape fly across the sun.
“What in the whole big orchard is that?” Sprout asked.
The shape swooped down, revealing a hovership crafted to resemble a nasty black bat. It moved fast, hitting the ground with a puff of sand.
The glass roof of the bat’s cockpit popped open. Evie’s hands began to tremble as she saw Mister Dark emerge from the cockpit and Vesuvia hop out behind him. Mister Dark carried a large weapon in his hands that looked like some kind of grenade launcher. Vesuvia pinched a pink laser pistol awkwardly between her fingers.
“Ew, sand! Yucky, grainy sand!” Vesuvia growled. “It’s getting inside my stylish pumps!”
Sprout called out to her. “Well, then you shouldn’t have worn heels in the desert, ya pineapple-topped fence post!”
Evie hushed him. “Vesuvia, how did you find us?”
“Oh, Evie, sometimes you’re as blind as that old scientist pal of yours.” Vesuvia sighed. “My mother’s robotic crows have been tracking you ever since you left the eighth continent. Mastercorp is just like Santa Claus. We see you when you’re sleeping. We know when you’re awake. And we are motivated by commercial interests.”
Evie tightened her fists. “What are you doing here?”
“Shut up,” Mister Dark commanded as he approached Evie and Sprout. Vesuvia followed, but she looked reluctant, as if there was something more bothering her than just the sand in her shoes.
“Stay back, Mister Mastercorp,” Sprout ordered, drawing his machete and pointing it at the large man in the business suit.
Mister Dark glared at Sprout. “Drop the machete, or you’ll swallow those words and that sword.” He looked bigger than Evie remembered him, as if he’d been hit with a blast of gamma radiation, or was midway through transforming into a werewolf, or maybe he’d been really good about drinking his milk lately.
Sprout lowered his weapon.
“Give us the formula for the Eden Compound, Evie.” Vesuvia’s eyes met Evie’s with conviction.
“Why are you helping this weirdo?” Ev
ie asked her, pointing at Mister Dark. “After all the terrible things Mastercorp has done to you.”
“That’s none of your business,” Vesuvia said. “Just give him what he wants, and you can walk away. Please.”
Please? Evie didn’t think she had ever heard Vesuvia use the magic word before. “Your survival is unlikely,” Mister Dark corrected. “But give us the formula and I will make your deaths slightly less painful.”
“That’s not necessary,” Vesuvia said. “Evie, just tell him what he wants to know!”
Evie squinted at her old nemesis. Was Vesuvia actually trying to help her?
“We don’t have the formula,” Evie said. “We’re trying to find it, same as you.” She didn’t like tipping her hand like this, but she needed to buy time so she could think of a way out of this mess.
Mister Dark raised the grenade launcher and aimed it at Evie and Sprout.
“Don’t shoot them,” Vesuvia said. “They have information that will be useful to us. They can’t tell us if they’re dead.”
“You have five seconds,” Mister Dark said coldly.
“Evie . . .” Sprout backed up nervously.
“Vesuvia, tell him to stop.” Evie shot the other girl a worried glance.
“Mister Dark, I know they have the information.”
“Five,” Mister Dark said.
“You have to let me interrogate them.”
“Four.”
“Sprout, run!” Evie shouted.
“Stop!” Mister Dark aimed the grenade launcher at Sprout and pulled the trigger.
“No, wait!” Vesuvia said, shoving Mister Dark. The grenade flew wide, detonating against the base of one of the eagle-headed statues. The shock wave was enough to knock Vesuvia and Mister Dark onto their backs.
Evie tackled Sprout. “Look out!” They tumbled down the stairs into the darkness. Landing hard at the bottom, Evie looked up in time to see the statue topple over, barricading the entrance of the temple.
