The control panel lapsed into a calmer beep now that the target had been identified. A red button flashed on and off. Ato stared at it. The iguanagull’s razor-sharp claws could tear straight through the cruiser’s metal armor, but it would take a whole flock of them to do any serious damage. One by itself was hardly a threat.
“What’s goin’ on, Ato?” It was Get, still in his pajamas, his brown hair sleep tussled and his eyes groggy. The laser alarm must’ve woken him. “Oh, an iguanagull?” He gazed out the window at it. “Ugly, huh? Well, go ’head, blast it.”
“It’s not doing anything, Get, just gliding along. Besides, iguanagulls are supposed to be able to intercommunicate telepathically, and once you blast one, then the whole flock’ll—”
“It’s just a birdlizard, Ato. They don’t read minds.” He reached over his brother and pushed the flashing red button.
“Get!” Ato yelled. “No!”
The ship let out a whirring sound and then lurched as an explosion of light thundered out. The iguanagull disappeared in a puff of smoke. For a moment, Ato and Get just stared at the empty space in the clouds where the creature had been. Gray and white feathers floated peacefully through the air and then zipped off on a current of early morning wind.
“Well,” Get said, “back to bed I go.” He started off toward the sleeping quarters. “Next time don’t be such a—”
A distant cawing cut him off. Another scream answered it, this time much closer. The two brothers looked at each other. Suddenly the air was full of iguanagull screeches. The seeker lasers dashed back and forth through the cloud bank. Red panic lights flashed on and off inside the cruiser.
“It’s an attack!” Ato screamed.
From somewhere above their heads came the horrific sound of metal being shredded by claws.
“You comin’, bro?”
Max putted along toward where Yala hovered on the path, giving the barbwire fence a wide berth. He could hear the angry electric hum and snapping of currents on the other side. The air around the Electric Ghost Yard was always thick with the feeling that something terrible had just happened or was about to go horribly wrong. You couldn’t even inhale fully because the tiny particles floating around would irritate your throat and make you cough.
Just beyond the fence, the sea of black-and-gray wires squirmed in slow motion. A fizzle of blue light erupted a few feet away from Max, making him dodge sideways in surprise. He gathered himself, caught his breath, and sped forward, waving his hand at Yala to assure her he was okay.
Max looked anxiously ahead. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breathing was shallow. At this rate, he figured, he might just drop dead halfway through the alleyway even if they didn’t get jumped by some angry digital phantom. And of course, Yala just gallivanted on ahead like it was another stroll through the park.
Even the upcoming Flood City pageant was less frightening than the crackling sounds (were they coming more and more frequently now?), so Max tried to concentrate on his feezlehorn part. He knew it by heart from hearing the same bit year after year. The Star Guard only let the Flood City Orchestra play one performance, once a year, and it had to be done exactly the same every single time. It was pretty tedious really, and if Max didn’t love music so much, he’d have probably quit by now. But even with the same boring notes, Max got that jolt of excitement every time he put the horn to his lips and felt the rest of the orchestra fall into place around him. There was no feeling like it. And he’d certainly never expected to play lead.
Then came the day a few weeks back when Tinibu had passed him a small scrap of paper asking him to stop by Old Man Cortinas’s barbershop when he had a chance. “You know,” Cortinas had said later that afternoon as he snip-snipped at Mateo the Bricklayer’s few remaining hairs, “now that Jorge has gone off and joined the Star Guard, we’ll need someone to lead the horn section this year.”
Somewhere deep inside Max, the notion that he might one day play lead sparked to life, but he quickly shushed it away as utterly ridiculous. “I suppose so,” Max said. “Maybe Deezer? He’s been pretty on point recently.”
Cortinas and Mateo both chuckled. Those two always seemed like they were in on some big joke that no one else got, and today was no exception. “No, m’ijo,” Cortinas finally said. “I mean you. I want you to take over for Jorge.”
YES! a voice inside Max yelled. But he shook his head. “I couldn’t.” Cortinas stopped clipping and looked sternly at Max. “I … I’m so young,” Max insisted. “And there’s others … who are more prepared. I wouldn’t want to … thank you though … but …”
To Max’s horror, Mateo burst out laughing. Why did he always have to make light of everyone else’s messes? Cortinas quieted the bricklayer with a stern hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t asking your permission, young man,” the barber said. “I was telling you that that is your new job in the orchestra. Period. Finito. End of story.”
“But I …”
“If you think you’re not ready for it, then you better get studying, joven.”
Mateo started laughing again.
“Max! Watch out!” Yala’s voice blurted out.
Lost in his memories, Max had strayed too close to the Electric Ghost Yard. A blast of blue static zapped out through the fence and smashed into him. Max felt like his whole body was on fire as he smacked against the wall on the other side of the alley and then landed in a heap on the ground.
When he looked up, the angry blue current was flashing along the fence just across from him. It formed a screaming face momentarily and then shattered into a web of crackling lines. Sparkly tentacles stretched through the barbwire toward Max, stopping just short of his jetboots. Max pushed himself as far back against the wall as he could and pulled his feet in.
Yala sped toward him. She was carrying an old tire that she’d picked out of the alley debris. She was too close to the fence though, easily within range of the angry ghost.
“Yala!” Max yelled, but it was too late: The blue light was already dashing up through the wiring to attack. Still accelerating forward on her jetboots, Yala held the tire up between her and the Electric Ghost Yard. She hurled it at the fence just as the phantom of blue light burst out toward her. Instead of a terrible explosion, there was only a dull fizzle as the tire withstood the full electric force of the ghost and then fell to the ground with a thud. A tiny voice screamed in the air around them.
Max blinked at the smoking tire.
“You alright, man?” Yala asked.
“I think so.” He looked down at his body, which strangers had always told him was a few sizes too big—one of their mom’s fellow doctors had lectured him about weight gain and body mass when he was just eight—but he knew was just the right size, was round in just the right ways, and that padding had managed to protect him from getting too hurt so far, which was no small task considering how many heights he’d plummeted from. Today was no exception: Sure, he’d been zapped by one of the feared electric ghosts, but nothing seemed to be fried or broken. He wiggled his arms and legs to make sure they still worked. “Just a little shook up.”
“I bet.”
“Thanks for saving me. Again …”
“Here, take my hand. We gotta move fast now. There’s gonna be more where that one came from.”
“What’s that?” Max pointed into the sky. Something was floating toward them.
“I don’t know,” Yala said. “But there’s another.”
“Weird.”
“Feathers,” Yala said. “Iguanagull feathers from the look of ’em.” There were hundreds of them. They drifted down like giant gray snowflakes over the Electric Ghost Yard. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” Max followed his sister’s gaze up to the murky cloud bank above them. Bursts of laser fire were exploding like red lightning through the gray sky.
ArchBaron Mephim sat in the commander’s chair, a picture of calmness in the center of utter chaos. His narrow, pale face scanned slowly back and forth. Ato
watched the ArchBaron’s blue eyes squint ever so slightly as they took in all the information exploding around them. Ato wondered if he would ever be able to stay that calm in the midst of a battle, even if it was just against iguanagulls. It seemed like no matter how many times he went on missions, some part of his body rebelled against the rest of it and refused to keep cool.
“Man the roof cannons,” Mephim said, “and prepare to reinforce the shields on my order.”
Liutenant Oso, the crew commander, stepped away from Mephim’s side and addressed the four soldiers at the gunner controls. “Tamin, take the roof cannons. Sala, you work the shields. Go!”
The horrible scraping noises were getting louder. The iguanagulls must’ve penetrated part of the main hull already, Ato guessed. He looked over at Get, who was cowering shamefaced in a corner, trying to be as tiny and out of the way as possible.
“Aren’t we going to get out of here?” Get said.
“If we use our power engines,” Mephim explained in a voice so soft it might’ve been a whisper, “we will blow our cover and the Star Guard will capture us. As it is, we are at risk using our cannons, but there is no other choice. We’re almost over the water anyway, so the debris won’t be as noticeable. Won’t be much longer though.”
Much longer till what? Ato wondered, but he kept his mouth shut.
A large computer terminal lowered from the ceiling. It had a seat attached to it with two handlebars stretching out from the main screen. Ato jumped into the seat and the screen blipped to life. A panoramic view of the cloudy sky unfolded on the computers, overlaid by swirling grids and letters.
“Watch carefully, boys,” Mephim said. “This is important.”
The cruiser shuddered as the iguanagulls continued their fierce assault on its defenses. Ato could hear their screeching get louder with each passing second.
“Guns ready?” Mephim whispered.
Lieutenant Oso towered over where Ato was seated at the gunner terminal. Ato nodded up at him.
“Guns ready, ArchBaron,” Oso said.
“Ignite electrified shield power.”
“Shields go!” Oso yelled.
Sala pushed a series of buttons on the control panel she was seated at. The ship whirred and shook. Then the noise was unbearable. All the iguanagulls must have screamed at the exact same time as torrents of electrical shield power zapped through their bodies. The gunner terminal computer screens were suddenly filled with flapping and falling creatures.
“Nice!” Get yelled. “That was awesome!”
“Fire at will,” Mephim said. “Destroy them all.”
“Fire!” Oso commanded.
Ato leaned into his terminals and began squeezing off cannon shots with the triggers on either end of the handlebars. The digital images squirmed, fluttered, and exploded across the screen.
Ato watched with rising uneasiness as the creatures fell one by one past the cruiser windows. He knew the Barons were only doing what they had to in order to survive and accomplish their mission, but still … something didn’t feel right. Of course, Mephim was his teacher, the man their loving parents had entrusted with raising him and his brother to be true Warrior Barons. And of course, Mephim’s skill and calmness were to be admired. Ato couldn’t put his finger on it, but as much as he looked up to Mephim, he was also terrified by his tall, cloaked mentor. Besides, he had never seen an iguanagull, and he’d wanted to get a closer look.
The laser cannon blasts continued around him. “Sir,” Oso said, “we have eliminated ninety-two percent of the targets.”
Tamin let out a joyful grunt.
“Make that ninety-five,” Oso added.
“Hmm,” Mephim said, placing his hands together beneath his chin and closing his eyes. “I see.”
Two smaller iguanagulls dashed across Tamin’s screen. He thrust his handlebars to the side, trailing the target circle just behind them, and then cut upward. One of the creatures curved up, directly into the gun sights, and Tamin leaned into the triggers, releasing a spray of cannon fire. Everyone heard the cawing as the wounded iguanagull tumbled out of the sky.
“I believe,” Oso said, “that we have virtually …”
Mephim’s eyes sprang open. “Don’t say it!”
“… accomplished this—what?”
“You insolent brute!” Mephim yelled, rising to his full height, his red robes swooshing around him as if blown by a spontaneous draft of wind. “How dare you?” He raised an arm as if he was about to strike Oso but then caught himself. For a second, no one moved. The computers blipped away their coordinate readings, oblivious to the sudden outburst.
Ato had never seen Mephim lose his cool. There were always rumors, he remembered now, that the ArchBaron was particularly superstitious, but Mephim never seemed like the type to go for old wives’ tales.
“Never—” Mephim started at a yell and stopped himself. He tried again, quieter this time. “Never talk about a battle like it’s won before it’s even over. Never. Or I will have you demoted and beheaded. Is that clear?”
Oso nodded. Rather than look ashamed though, his face was tight with anger. He was almost as tall as Mephim and had about two hundred pounds of pure muscle on him, not to mention being a top crew commander in the Chemical Baron cloud cruiser covert expeditions fleet, but here he was being hollered at like a child. And in front of his crew, making it a double embarrassment. Ato took note of the lieutenant’s face and stored it away for later. He’d never seen a crew member show outright disdain for an ArchBaron before.
“Now,” Mephim said, settling back into his spinning chair, “have we destroyed all of the …”
The overhead lights flickered on and off and then the tearing metal sound came back. This time it was coming from only a few feet above them. Somewhere in the ventilation shafts, Ato figured. The iguanagull must’ve gotten in before they’d activated the electroshields.
A claw burst through the ceiling and sent a cascade of debris down on the crew. Get ran forward, his small spray cannon pointed upward toward the screeching iguanagull.
“Back,” Oso said, grabbing at the boy. “And put the shooter away! If you let off a shot, you could hit a mainline and then we’d all be toast.”
“Back off me!” Get dodged the burly lieutenant’s grip and raised his hand cannon up toward the ceiling, just in time to see the iguanagull bearing down on him in a torrent of falling plaster and metal. Get screamed, falling backward, but the creature never reached him. Mephim had snatched it out of the air. In one fluid motion, the ArchBaron wrapped his long fingers around the thing’s neck and snapped it. There was a clicking noise, then a horrible tearing. The iguanagull went limp. Everyone stared at Mephim with shock.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, dropping the feathery body to the ground. A pool of thick, dark blood spread from the empty stump of its neck. Ato watched in horror as Mephim tucked the still twitching iguanagull head into some unseen pocket of his robes. “The Star Guard will be here soon and we need to assess the damage and prepare for tonight’s surveillance run.”
The shadow crept along steadily behind Max and Yala. He had watched with interest as the girl once again saved her brother from imminent disaster. He slithered along the wall after them as they raced through the shower of iguanagull feathers. He stayed just far enough behind so as not to be noticed, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose them. It was tricky, tracking young people, because they were unpredictable—their chaotic movements didn’t follow that drab routine that most adults fell into. And that’s what made it all the more fun.
Now they had stopped again and were discussing something beneath the Tumbled Together Towers. The shadow paused behind a rust-encrusted steam pipe. Most likely, they would speak for another two minutes or so, and then jet off across the harbor to their mom’s hospital. Everything was, more or less, moving according to plan. He peeked out, just to make sure, and jolted back with surprise. The kids were gone. Impossible! If they’d headed toward the water
as expected, he would be able to see them on the other side of the Towers. But there was no sign of them whatsoever.
The shadow was about to rush out into the open but caught himself. If they were gone, it meant they’d either been snatched up, which seemed unlikely, or were somehow onto him. That was also highly unlikely, but there’d been no sounds of struggle, and it had only been a couple of seconds. No, ridiculous though it was, they must’ve gotten wise to their pursuer. Which meant they’d hidden in an attempt to flush him out into the open. The shadow flattened himself even farther behind the pipe and quickly slid off to begin searching.
Max hated having to stay perfectly still. He was not the patient type and didn’t care much for tension either. His heart thump-thumped away in his ears. His belly did a ridiculous little dance. Sweat glistened on his forehead. His muscles were getting sore from not moving. Still, he kept his body firmly pressed against the tower wall and gazed down at the dockyards twenty-six stories below him.
“We’re being followed,” Yala had said as they stopped beneath the Tumbled Together Towers. “I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there.”
“How?” Max had said, the panic rising in his voice.
Yala had put a finger to her lips. “Doesn’t matter now. Just do what I say. When I count to three, accelerate straight up. Flatten against the ocean side of the tower. Don’t move. Wait ten minutes and then head straight for Saint Solomon’s. Don’t stop for nothing. Don’t look back. Just go. I’ll meet you there.”
“What’re you gonna—”
The finger had gone back to the lips and Max shushed. “Just go. Now.”
Flood City Page 2
