Shuri

by Nic Stone

  A man approaches the opposite end of the Challenge Ring and bows. “My king,” he says, loud enough for all to hear. “Thank you for your participation in this, our most sacred of traditions.”

  Uncle S’Yan.

  His pride in his nephew resounds in his deeply resonant voice as he announces the rules of Challenge Day, and sets the ritual in motion.

  As he paces around the outer rim of the Sacred Circle, addressing each tribe, drawing a smile here, a laugh there, a shallow bow or expression of sorrow over there …

  “We have to take care of it,” Shuri says, surprising even herself with the words.

  “Huh?”

  “The intruders.” Shuri turns to K’Marah. “They timed this invasion to disrupt one of our oldest and most revered traditions. Distracted us with that forest move, thinking they’d hit us when our king’s focus has shifted elsewhere, catch us off guard and use it to their advantage.” Zanda’s face flashes against the inside of Shuri’s eyelids, but not the one from her vision—the one she’s seen. That of a haughty—though clearly delusional—ruler who would attack a neighboring nation in a grab for power.

  Shuri knows one thing: That’s not the type of princess she ever intends to be.

  “But they were wrong,” she continues. “Our guard is not down, and we will not tolerate such blatant disrespect of our traditions. Which … make sense to me now. Even though before they sort of didn’t.”

  K’Marah snorts. “So what’s the plan, Your Majesty?”

  Down below, Uncle S’Yan shouts, “Do we have a challenger? One who can prove themselves worthy by exhibiting readiness to lay his—or her—life on the line for the safety and welfare of Wakanda?”

  Shuri smiles.

  T’Challa pulls his mask on and steps into the circle.

  “Let’s go,” Shuri says, not waiting to see if some brave warrior steps forward to face the Black Panther. “Can you pull up that terrain view again so we can send it to the Predator’s GPS? No need to send a king when a princess will do.”

  The plan forms as Shuri and K’Marah race back to the Predator and climb aboard.

  And it’s not foolproof. Especially considering how much of it will rely on prototype tech that hasn’t been tested on the scale they’re about to need it.

  But as Shuri and her very best friend rise into the air inside a craft she built—a craft that has safely taken them from Wakanda to Kenya to London and back over the course of mere days—and she peeks down at the plain where her brother is flipping and kicking and dipping and dodging in the stretchiest suit a Black Panther has ever known, a sense of purpose as thick and sweet as fresh mango juice slides down her throat and settles in her belly.

  She’s a princess, yes, but she was made to serve and protect her people.

  “So where to first?” K’Marah says, taking over the role of navigator without being asked. She taps the map on the central screen, and a bird’s-eye view of their immediate surroundings fills the cabin around them. Shuri uses her fingertips to rotate the landscape and zoom in on the target area. The interloping troops have formed ranks nine wide and seven deep … so far. There are still little insect-like specks filing out of a barely visible dark spot in a grove of trees.

  With a clap, the map zooms out wide, and Shuri is able to see three things: (1) the triumphant group of Wakandan warriors returning from the hole in the forest after routing that particular group of invaders, (2) the captured men who managed to avoid being trapped in the second tunnel by Shuri’s Imperial Blaster shot, and (3) a small faction of Wakandan warriors headed to face off against the group coming out of the third hole. As she and K’Marah watch, three figures in rhinoceros hats break off from the Wakandan ranks and run in the direction of the baobab field. Presumably to alert the king.

  “Hey, S.H.U.R.I., how far to this spot?” Shuri pokes an area on the 3-D map, and it illuminates.

  “Approximately twelve-point-eight kilometers, or three minutes and two seconds at the current rate of travel,” the robot voice says.

  Shuri rubs her chin. “And to the lab?”

  “Twenty-three seconds southeast.”

  “So even with a stop, we could be there in five minutes,” Shuri says to no one in particular.

  K’Marah presses all ten fingertips together and then pulls them apart to zoom in on the skirmish at the border. The small contingent of Wakandans has reached the fray and is attempting to hold back the advancing army, but it’s clear the rhino-hatted border guards could use some backup. If the princess had to guess, there’s a good chance the best and brightest warriors were all sent to fight at the dying forest. Which would mean these were the guys … who were left. “You sure a pit stop is wise?”

  Shuri turns the vessel away from the action. “Even if they trounce all of our guys and sprint full speed to the city, it would take a minimum of eleven minutes for the fastest person in the world to run that distance,” Shuri says. “Zanda might’ve got them in—with advanced weaponry, from the looks of it …” Three tiny shoots of white light fly through the air from some miniature cannon thing and knock one of the border rhinos over on its side. Its legs continue to kick at the air. “But there are a couple of things she failed to consider.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Well, optimal mobility, for one,” Shuri says, gesturing with her chin at the enthusiastic, but discombobulated—and quickly tiring—invading soldiers as she lowers the Predator into the opening doors of her laboratory’s hangar entrance.

  “Noted,” K’Marah replies with a nod. “And for two?”

  When K’Marah looks over, Shuri is smiling. The princess presses a series of buttons and turns a few dials on the control panel before the rear hatch lowers. She rotates toward it and bounces on her toes.

  “For two, she forgot to consider me,” she says with a wink. “I’ll be right back.” And she disappears down the ramp and out of sight.

  Shuri is back on the Predator, with an odd-looking half sphere in hand, quicker than K’Marah can blink, and within three and a half minutes, they’re approaching what has literally become a battlefield. “Wow, that sure took a turn,” K’Marah says as they get closer.

  And she’s not wrong: The number of interlopers has … multiplied. To a point that seems, if not impossible, highly implausible.

  “Where on earth did they all come from?” Shuri says to no one in particular.

  “Well, looking at the map, I’d guess Niganda and Canaan,” K’Marah says, bringing her palms together over the 3-D landscape to zoom out. “They’re coming in beneath the part of the forest that borders on both countries. Is there a way to see the tunnel on this thing?”

  Shuri nods and taps a screen to her left. The projected landscape turns white, and a long, thick red line appears at the southwest edge. “Infrared mode,” she says. “It utilizes thermal readings and isolates—”

  “Save it, Sherlock. We gotta stop this NOW. There are more of them coming.” As K’Marah hyperzooms on the tunnel, Shuri sees exactly what she means: The thing is full of weapon-carrying men, three flush in a line that extends a quarter of the distance to the border—which is over a kilometer and a half away.

  Shuri gulps. She’s tempted to ask her AI for a count of the intruders—there have to be over a thousand—but decides against it. Maybe better not to know exactly what they’re up against.

  “We do have a plan …” K’Marah looks up, panic splashed over her face like a hastily thrown cup of ice water. “Right?”

  Shuri continues to stare at the holographic rendering of a piece of her homeland she’s never even seen up close. How many other corners of Wakanda has she yet to explore? How many treasures has she yet to find?

  What will happen if she fails at this mission?

  “Shuri?” K’Marah’s dread is palpable now.

  Shuri cannot fail. She must not.

  She can do this. She can beat them.

  She can.

  She just hopes all the Wakandans who answered
the call to defense did so because they were wearing their communication bracelets.

  “Hey, S.H.U.R.I., highlight all the Kimoyo beads within this region.” Shuri circles the area on the map where most of the moving bodies are gathered. A few stragglers have made their way farther in, but for the most part, the Nigandans/Narobians/Canaanites/whoever haven’t made a ton of progress in their march on the city.

  “Highlighting Kimoyo beads,” the AI says.

  About a hundred of the mini people on the map turn purple … and not all of them are in motion.

  K’Marah gasps. “Are those ones—”

  “Let’s not think about it right now,” Shuri says, stepping up to the Predator’s control panel. She manually shifts into hover mode, and the aircraft slows to a stop with the thick of the melee still a couple of hundred meters or so in front of them. Then she slides to the left and pushes a button. A hidden screen flips into view, and she taps a series of numbers into it before a lever slides out of a concealed slot in the ceiling.

  “Sheesh, how many secret doodads does this thing have?”

  Shuri grins at her friend, confidence renewed. “If only you knew,” she says. “Hey, S.H.U.R.I., activate Kimoyo Capture.”

  “Kimoyo Capture activated.” All the purple people turn green.

  She cautiously wraps a hand around the lever then. And takes a deep breath. “You, uhh, might want to buckle up,” she says to K’Marah.

  “Why?” (Though the shorter girl scrambles into the co-captain’s chair and fastens herself in before Shuri has a chance to answer.)

  “There might be a small jolt. Though it’ll be way worse for them …”

  “WAI—”

  Shuri shoves the lever forward—

  And is almost thrown back as every human body below with a Kimoyo bead attached to it is wrapped in a tiny force field and pulled three or so meters into the air, out of the reach of enemy hands.

  “By BAST!” K’Marah gasps. She turns to Shuri, thunderstruck. “I guess that does come in handy! How does it work again?”

  Shuri reaches forward with her free hand and turns a dial. The bodies begin to move toward them very quickly—“Whoops! Too fast!” she says—then slower as she reverses the dial the slightest bit. She and K’Marah can both see some of the person-filled bubbles shifting shape as the inhabitants squirm and flail within them. “It’s a simple mechanism, really,” she begins. “I use the Kimoyo tech to create an electromagnetic field around each individual utilizing their body heat—”

  “Nope, never mind.” K’Marah lifts a hand. “What next?”

  “Well, uhhh …” Shuri focuses in on a section of the map projection … but doesn’t let go of the lever or the dial. She glares at it for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

  “Umm, Shuri? Hello? Next?”

  The princess’s forehead wrinkles as her concentration intensifies.

  And then her face goes slack and she drops her chin. “Can you take your finger and circle that open area on the other side of the stream we just crossed? South of the baobab plain.”

  K’Marah doesn’t respond, and when Shuri looks up, she sees that her dear friend is smirking. “You can’t let go of those things, huh, genius?”

  “I truly despise you sometimes.”

  K’Marah does as Shuri requested, snickering the whole time, and as soon as all the floating Wakandan soldiers have entered the target area—as indicated by a *ding* and the space turning yellow on the floating map—Shuri cranks the dial to zero, carefully lets go, and then slowly pulls the lever back to lower the soldiers back down.

  The force fields vanish, and both girls watch, relieved, as most of the little figures plop to the ground, then stagger to their feet, confused but safe.

  “Whew!” Shuri says, lifting her hand for K’Marah to high-five. “Phase one complete.” She spreads her arms wide and brings her hands together in a clap. The map folds and vanishes, returning the cabin to its regular overly high-tech state, then Shuri turns back to the control panel, shifts out of hover mode, and eases them into motion in the direction of the invaders.

  “Let me guess: Phase one was the easy part,” K’Marah says, coming to stand at Shuri’s side.

  “Mmmm … You could say that.”

  “Figures.”

  The girls lapse into silence as the horde of invaders comes into full view before them.

  “There are so many,” K’Marah continues, breathless.

  Shuri doesn’t respond to that. She just begins a slow descent over the re-forming ranks, shifting into hover when they’re right over the center.

  “We’re invisible right now, yes?” K’Marah asks.

  “Yes,” Shuri says with a confident nod.

  But then she looks down.

  It would seem the invaders have been reenergized by the whisking away of Wakanda’s warriors. As they re-form their ranks and march onward, they hit their shields against their chests and chant some kind of battle cry.

  It shakes the princess. “K’Marah?”

  “Whatever you’re planning, it’s going to work.” The soon-to-be Dora turns to Shuri and puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Okay?”

  Shuri’s heart rate increases, and she faces back forward. Her eyes sweep the masses below again, and she opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a strange squawk she had no idea her throat could make.

  “Maybe it’ll help if you …” K’Marah takes an audible centering breath. “… explain the science of your plan. To me.”

  And then the world opens and a light turns on. “Really?” Shuri says.

  “Mm-hmm!” K’Marah forces a smile.

  Which is more than enough for the princess. Setting her nerves on a back burner, she kicks into high gear. “Okay, so I’ve been secretly working on some new security tech.” She squats and pulls a rounded, though flat-bottomed, black object etched with glowing purple lines from a compartment beneath the control panel. “This hemisphere,” she says, holding it up, “is what I returned to the lab to retrieve. I call it the Dome. It’s merely a prototype, but my hope is that through the use of a spectrometer, I will be able to mimic its shape and create an impenetrable force field around a predetermined area.”

  She tucks the half sphere under one arm and, with brows pinched and tongue poking out, begins to tap, pinch, shift, and slide her fingers around the main navigation screen. When there’s a perfect circle encompassing the tunnel exit and all the foreign soldiers—which is easier than she expected it to be considering their insistence on moving in ranks—she nods with satisfaction. Then she drops down again, lifts a hatch in the floor, and lowers the glowy purple-black thingy into it.

  She closes the compartment, and stands. Returns to her controls. “If this works like I hope it will, the spectrometer will create the parameters, and the Vibranium released from the Dome will follow the photonic pathway and bind with the carbon molecules along it. Creating … a dome. The intruders will be trapped inside.”

  “Oh! Like a high-tech snow globe!” K’Marah looks ready to burst, she’s so excited to understand.

  “Precisely!” Shuri says.

  “And then what?”

  “And then T’Chal—I mean, the king …” Shuri steels herself. They’ve been so busy, she has no idea if he won the Challenge. “The king can decide what to do with them.”

  K’Marah nods. “Excellent plan.” Then she turns to the princess. “So you ready?”

  Shuri presses a button beneath the center of the control panel, and two little doors slide open as another hidden lever rises up. She grabs hold of it. “I was born ready.”

  “YOU TOTALLY WATCH AMERICAN MOVIES, TOO!” K’Marah shouts.

  Shuri smirks.

  And shoves the lever forward.

  Neither girl speaks as the Dome descends, but Shuri knows it is by far the coolest thing she’s ever created. They watch as what looks like a flickering liquid pours down over an invisible, upside-down bowl. Even the invading troops look up in awe.r />
  There’s a ding before the S.H.U.R.I.’s voice rings out. “Dome deployment complete,” it says.

  Shuri and K’Marah look at each other.

  “Is that … it?” the Dora says.

  “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Shuri sets the Predator down a reasonable distance away: close enough to investigate and get back to the vessel quickly if need be, but far enough away to give them a head start if they have to flee.

  Then they get out.

  “Here goes,” Shuri says, prepping her Kimoyo bracelet to fire temporary-paralysis pulses from the inside of the wrist, spider guy style just in case.

  “Shuri … look,” K’Marah says, pointing. She turns to the princess with a smile.

  And Shuri can’t help but smile back. Because it’s clear from the men banging on the inside of the invisible structure, creating little outward ripples of light (perhaps she should electrify the thing?), that they’re trapped inside.

  It worked.

  “You did it!” K’Marah says, leaping onto her friend.

  Shuri barely catches the shorter girl. “WE did it.” The girls hug. “You and me. Together—”

  “Guess that means you should be punished together, eh?” comes a familiar voice from behind them.

  Shuri shuts her eyes.

  “Oh boy,” K’Marah says.

  “Lies upon lies upon lies. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Shuri, and I am much too civilized to try to paddle it out. But know that you have quite a bit of explaining to do—”

  “You too, K’Marah!” comes a second adult female voice.

  “Ugh,” K’Marah sighs. “Guess I’m in trouble, too.”

  “Likely,” Shuri says.

  And then she takes a deep breath. “Turn around and face the music on three?”

  “Let’s just get it over with …”

  So both girls turn. And as they look into the furious faces of the queen mother and Eldress Umbusi, they know: The battle might have been won, but the war has yet to begin.

  MISSION LOG

  I AM “GROUNDED.” (CLEARLY EVEN MOTHER CAN’T RESIST AMERICAN TELEVISION SHOWS ON PANTHERTUBE.)