Crystal Keepers

by Brandon Mull

  “Don’t think you can hide,” Roulette said, entering the room with scissors in hand. “Doesn’t Dalton look tidy?”

  “He definitely looks different,” Cole said. “Are you going to shave my head and graffiti my scalp too?”

  “Don’t mock it,” Roulette said. “Dalton looks like a real Zeropolite. You will too, but I’ll take your look in a different direction. Come on.”

  “Good luck,” Dalton said.

  Cole rubbed Dalton’s bristly head with both hands, then followed Roulette into another room where a chair awaited. Hair clippings littered the floor.

  Jace walked in and Cole reflexively laughed. Jace’s hair had been bleached blond and spiked up with styling gel. Symbols were sloppily painted on his brown leather jacket, and he wore safety pins in his earlobes. His jeans had several patches, and his eyes were now blue.

  “Yuck it up,” Jace said. “You’re next.”

  “Are the pins real?” Cole asked, reaching to touch one.

  “Trickster dared me,” Jace said, swatting his hand away.

  “Dalton looks cool,” Roulette said. “Jace looks hot.”

  “Okay, now I feel awkward,” Jace said, turning around and leaving.

  “What do you say, Cole?” Roulette asked. “Want to top his earpins? How about a bolt through your nostrils?”

  “No new holes in my body,” Cole said.

  “Okay,” Roulette said. “I can probably still give you some style.”

  “I guess I could use a haircut,” Cole admitted. “And I need to look different.”

  “Have a seat,” Roulette said, her grin somewhere between delighted and predatory.

  Cole proceeded through a long, mirrorless process of Roulette washing his hair, cutting it, putting chemicals on it, and covering it in a plastic sack. When he grew fidgety, Roulette ordered him to sit still. When he complained about odd smells, she shushed him. He had never loved getting his hair cut, and this was taking much longer than usual.

  In the end, Roulette gave him a hand mirror. His hair was now pure black and neatly trimmed. “The black is different, but it’s not bad. I kind of like it.”

  “You have the kindest face, so I made you our pretty boy,” Roulette said.

  Cole squirmed. “Don’t repeat that in front of Jace. Names like that can stick.”

  “I’ll get you some clothes,” she said.

  As Roulette left the room, Mira entered. Her hair was longer and a rich shade of lavender. She wore tights under a mid-length skirt. Her short, black leather jacket fit snugly.

  “You look good!” Mira said.

  “So do you,” Cole replied. “A little like an anime character, but not in a bad way.”

  “That’s what I was going for,” Roulette announced, returning to the room. “I love anime. Watching shows from your world is the best use of thruports.”

  “Anime?” Mira asked.

  “Japanese cartoons,” Cole said. “Like moving pictures. A lot of the characters in them have colorful hair.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Mira said.

  “Did Forge snap your photo?” Roulette asked.

  “He made me squint and squish my lips together,” Mira said. “He checked the photo on my old ID and wanted the opposite expression. Jace and Dalton are done too.”

  “Then they’re waiting for Cole,” Roulette said. She waved a hand. “Shoo, Secret, so he can change. I’ll clear out too.” Roulette gave Cole the clothes she had collected. “Come join us when you’re ready.”

  Left alone with his new clothes, Cole changed quickly. His new outfit included black jeans, a white shirt, a black denim vest, and gray shoes. Using the hand mirror and looking down at himself, Cole thought he looked less weird than Dalton or Jace. It was a fairly cool outfit.

  The others were waiting when he emerged. Jace looked especially disappointed.

  “He looks too normal,” Jace complained.

  “He looks different,” Roulette said. “That’s the point. I didn’t have to make all of you equally edgy.”

  “You promised to talk to him about a nose bolt,” Jace grumbled.

  “I did,” Roulette said. “He vetoed it. So I went more conservative.”

  “We had veto power?” Dalton asked.

  “You look nice, Cole,” Mira said.

  The comment pleased Cole more than he wanted anyone to know. “I’m supposed to take an ID photo?”

  “Over here,” Forge said. “Stand there.”

  Cole had handed over his ID card in the morning so Forge could study it. Forge picked it up and took one more look.

  “You have a very normal smile here,” Forge said. “The image is framed tight on your face, so I’ll give your head some room in this new one. Let’s go serious. Frown a little. Scowl, lower your eyebrows a bit. Hmmm. Keep the frown but raise your eyebrows. Okay, good. Think of something that disgusts you. Or something that makes you angry. Turn your head a little to the left. Good. Drop your chin a little. Remember, eyebrows up. Don’t frown too deep. It has to be subtle. Good. Got it.”

  “I’m done?” Cole asked.

  “Success,” Forge said. “You’re now Steve Rigby. It’s your face, but it’ll be a chore to match this to your old photo. You guys owe Roulette. She did great work.”

  “Almost a changing,” Dalton said.

  “Not far off,” Forge replied with a chuckle. “All right, getting these IDs printed up won’t take long. While I have you four gathered together, I better mention something. Joe is being transferred this evening to Holding Area 11. If they get him in there, I’m not sure we can get him out. So we have to intercept him today. But there’s a problem.”

  “What?” Mira asked, anxious.

  “A lot of our communications network is down right now,” Forge said. “Several people got caught fleeing the raid yesterday, which means we lost crystals, including some that are linked to crucial networks. We need to make a big new batch of communicators using different harmonics. Until then, Googol and I don’t know where most of our people who escaped are hiding. We can’t contact the personnel needed to carry off the rescue. If that holds true until this evening, we’re going to need Roulette, Trickster, and a pair of substitutes to carry it off.”

  “You know I’m in for whatever Googol wants,” Roulette said.

  “Same,” Trickster agreed.

  “You need some of us?” Jace asked hopefully.

  “Not Secret,” Forge clarified. “But we’ll need—”

  “Yes,” Jace said. “Me. Absolutely.”

  “I like the passion,” Forge said. “I was going to say, we need two people to fill support roles. These positions are somewhat removed from actually taking Joe from his vehicle, but will be necessary to ensure success. You’ll be exposed to capture. The danger is real. You’ll need full battle suits and warboards. If we can find somebody else with more experience between now and this evening, we won’t use you.”

  “I’m one for sure,” Jace said.

  Cole looked at Dalton. His friend appeared uncertain. “Do the battle suits jump like the exo rigs?” Cole asked.

  “Better,” Forge said. “The battle suits do everything the rigs can and more.”

  “I’m your other volunteer,” Cole said. He couldn’t let Joe remain a prisoner. Thanks to his experiences with the Jumping Sword, he felt confident he could at least master jumping effectively with the battle suit.

  “Can I help too?” Dalton asked.

  “You’ll stay here with me and Secret,” Forge said. “I may need some support once the operation kicks into gear. Googol and I will both lend help remotely.”

  “They’re doing important stuff,” Trickster clarified. “They’ll be messing with the magroads.”

  “And the emergency response systems,” Forge said. “We’re going to go big. Goo
gol really wants Joe back. And I think he’s kind of angry about the loss of zerobase. But first, Trickster should get Cole and Jace suited up. At a minimum, make sure they can handle the basics enough to do their parts and get away.”

  “What if we can’t?” Cole asked.

  Forge shrugged. “If nobody else can fill in, we’ll have to scrap the mission.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Jace said confidently.

  “I’ll try,” Cole said. He wanted to help Joe, but he could also picture himself running from hordes of angry patrolmen in an unfamiliar city using unfamiliar gear. What if he made a fatal mistake that ruined the mission? If he couldn’t get comfortable with the equipment, he had no business helping out. Failing wouldn’t benefit Joe.

  “From what I’ve seen, I bet I can get you two up to speed,” Trickster said. “Your duties will be to hide, use trapguns, and get away. The tech is awesome. You’ll feel better once you get the hang of it.”

  “When can we start?” Jace asked.

  Trickster folded his arms. “Since the ambush needs to happen in about six hours, now would be good.”

  The battle suit was like a finished version of the exo rig. More extensive braces supported the joints, and a full vest hugged the torso. A greater number of metallic strips and cords connected the vest and braces, along with boots, gloves, and a snug helmet. A black unitard underneath it all covered Cole from the neck to the wrists and ankles.

  “The armor is the best part,” Trickster said, pinching the sleeve of Jace’s unitard. “Does it feel rugged?”

  “Feels like long underwear,” Jace said.

  Cole plucked at his unitard. The silky material felt fairly thin.

  Trickster grinned. “That material is probably Googol’s most impressive creation. It’s a wonder of tinkering. He calls it guardcloth. Other tinkers have developed similar materials, but nobody can match the quality. Guardcloth is smooth and comfortable, but hardens against sharp impact.”

  Jace scrunched his face. “It can stop a punch?”

  “It can stop a knife,” Trickster said. “Or an arrow. Feel your sleeve. Rub it.”

  Cole and Jace both complied.

  “Notice anything unusual?” Trickster asked.

  “No,” Cole said.

  “Exactly!” Trickster emphasized. “Now make a fist and give your arm a good chop. Not too hard, but solid.”

  Cole complied. Against his halfhearted blow, the previously soft material felt rigid. He tried hitting it harder, and the material felt hard as steel, hurting his fist, though the arm below the guardcloth barely felt it.

  “No way,” Jace said.

  “I told you,” Trickster said. “And it gets better. Aside from hardening against direct impact, guardcloth also works with the battle suit. For example, parts will go rigid to help reduce damage from a fall. It complements the support you get from the suit.”

  They stood in the widest aisle of the storehouse above Forge’s lair. Daylight streamed through the high windows, spotlighting the covered mounds of derelict machines. Sidekick was patrolling outside the storehouse to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Cole glanced at the distant ceiling. “Can I jump my highest?” he asked.

  “In here, sure,” Trickster said. “That ceiling is over six stories above us. Even with the battle suit, your best jump won’t get you that high. But watch where you land. The guardcloth and the battle suit aren’t indestructible. Fall far enough, land on something sharp enough, take a strong enough blow, and the suit will crumple. If it does, you crumple too.”

  “So is it safe to jump my highest?” Cole asked.

  “The rule of thumb is don’t fall farther than you can jump,” Trickster said. “The battle suit won’t let you jump so high that it can’t handle the landing. But if you jump your highest and sail off an edge, you can get into trouble fast. Same if you jump your highest and land on a jagged piece of machinery.”

  Trickster sprang high into the air, getting two thirds of the way to the ceiling, then came straight down and landed in a crouch. “Take small jumps at first. You need to get a feel for it so you can control where you land.”

  Cole took a small leap and barely jumped higher than normal. A bigger jump sent him ten or fifteen feet into the air. He felt wobbly for a moment, but stabilized himself before the ground rushed up to greet him.

  The Jumping Sword would help slow his fall before a landing. The battle suit did no such thing. But when he landed, it squeezed and supported him in such a way that the impact wasn’t too jarring.

  Jace tried a jump as well, straight up and down, going a little higher than Cole reached before landing in a crouch. “I like this,” he said.

  Cole gauged the aisle. Long and straight, it ran the length of the storehouse, crossed by narrower aisles. It had to be almost fifteen feet wide. Springing forward, Cole rocketed up through the air and along the aisle. At the apex of his leap he was almost halfway to the ceiling, and he traveled maybe an eighth of the length of the storehouse. He approached the ground at a speed that seemed like it could be a problem, his insides tingling as they would during a big drop on a roller coaster, but the suit performed marvelously, supporting him and cushioning the landing more than he could have hoped.

  “This really works!” Cole called down the aisle.

  “Did you think I was trying to kill you?” Trickster asked.

  “My brain didn’t,” Cole replied. “My instincts weren’t sure.”

  Giving the jump everything he had, Cole leaped forward down the aisle again. He got over two thirds of the way to the ceiling and extended his distance half again as far. The landing was more jarring, but still manageable. He stayed on his feet.

  Cole dashed to the end of the aisle, taking long, leaping strides that didn’t send him too high but made each step cover about twenty feet. Exhilarated, he turned and started racing back but tried a running jump this time. It didn’t carry him nearly as high as his earlier jumps, but he sailed farther, covering a quarter of the length of the massive storehouse in a single bound. He didn’t try to land at a standstill. Instead he kept running and slowed to a stop near Trickster.

  “Who are you?” Trickster said. “That was incredible! Nobody gets that good that fast! In fact, most people never get that good period.”

  “I have practice jumping,” Cole said. “I like the feel of the suit. It works. I get it.”

  Jace came soaring toward them from the other direction. After a towering leap, he landed beside them in a crouch. “Next lesson?” he asked.

  Though Jace hadn’t used a Jumping Sword, Cole realized that his golden rope had probably given him just as much experience launching himself through the air.

  “You two are fast learners,” Trickster said. “I’ll give you a few more physical challenges to try, then we’ll cover weapon systems and get you acquainted with the warboards.”

  “What are the chances somebody else calls in and takes our place?” Cole asked.

  “Fairly slim at this point,” Trickster said. “Replacements might turn up, but we’re running out of time. We’d be dumb to bet on it happening. Let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  RESCUE

  Four hours later Cole sat alone atop a three-story building, dressed in full battle gear, a warboard at his side. Replacements hadn’t turned up.

  He had reached the building, a food-processing plant, with help from Roulette, traveling through a network of underground tunnels. After coming to the surface not far from the building, it only took a jump for them to reach the top, warboards tucked under their arms. She had positioned him, made sure he grasped the plan, and slipped away.

  Over his battle suit he wore gray coveralls. Trickster had explained that the outfit was the type worn by maintenance workers. Cole sat on the flat roof beside the ventilation system with
a toolbox handy, in case anybody noticed him from some of the taller buildings in the vicinity.

  For now, his assignment was to lay low, stay quiet, and await the signal. To his right sat a large canister full of quick-hardening freeze-foam, attached to a gun by a pliable hose. On the other side, beneath the toolbox, the warboard waited for action.

  Roughly the size of a snowboard, the warboard qualified as the most exciting piece of equipment Cole had used so far in this kingdom. Its complicated magnetic system enabled the board to hover above just about any metallic surface, which included most of Zeropolis, since through the years tinkers had used metal alloys in the underpinnings of almost every part of the city.

  The warboard looked simple, with no evidence of electronics. But Cole knew the board linked to the battle suit in such a way that enabled it to use momentum and magnetics to actively keep the rider aboard.

  The test runs had gone really well. Cole had hardly believed how easy the warboard was to ride. Invisible magnetics kept his feet affixed to the surface and helped his body remain upright and centered even through complex maneuvers. Since the propulsion was also magnetic, all he had to do was point the warboard in the direction he wanted to go and adjust the speed with buttons built in to his left glove.

  Of course, the test runs had occurred in a controlled environment. This afternoon it would be a different kind of ride, trying to evade patrolmen down alleys and streets with his freedom and maybe his life on the line. Roulette had taught Cole several places where he could get underground. Much of the escape plan depended on using the abandoned tunnels under Zeropolis. Access to those tunnels was the main reason this site had been selected to rescue Joe.

  Cole hated the suspense of waiting for the signal. At any moment his communicator could come to life, and he would have to start blocking off the street with freeze-foam. Although the rescue was a team effort, Cole’s part in it would leave him alone throughout. His part wasn’t too hard, but he had no backup—whether he succeeded or failed was up to him.

  Relatively large, low buildings dominated this area. Cole knew his fellow Sky Raider was stationed alone on a nearby building, a beverage-canning facility that also stood three stories tall, about a block up Flag Street on the other side. The communicator strapped to Cole’s forearm could put him in touch with Jace instantly, but he had been warned to keep silent unless there was an emergency. He wondered how Jace was handling the solitude.