“Max!” Deezer hissed. Max looked up. He hadn’t missed anything, but his solo was coming up. Max glanced at Old Man Cortinas, who winked at him with that mischievous grin and then hit a high note on his horn that cued the percussion ensemble to rev up to Max’s entrance point. Djinna and Jasmine launched into a series of crashes and booms, and Fast Eddie sent the bell clattering along underneath.
Max closed his eyes. He put his lips on the feezlehorn, waited a beat after the moment he was supposed to enter, just long enough for people to get antsy, and then blew. He didn’t know what note he was hitting, didn’t care really, he just let the sadness and anger and fear pour out of his mouth and into the music. The note sounded right, yes, but more importantly it felt right. It resonated deep down inside him somewhere. He blew again, the same note but stronger this time and longer. It was all wrong, totally against the script, the history, the whole thing, and it made Max unbelievably giddy. He let out a series of blasts in between the downbeats, sliding partway up the scale and back down again, hit another long, satisfying note and relished the way the drums trolloped along underneath him.
And then the drums stopped. Max opened his eyes. Not a single person was moving in the whole Music Hall. The band had stopped playing, the eight-year-old flood dancers had all paused mid-twirl. Everyone was gaping at this strange new music being born out of nowhere from Max’s horn. Trellis, the conductor, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Max looked at Old Man Cortinas, who was looking expectantly at the percussion ensemble. Max followed his gaze and his eyes met with Djinna’s. She was smiling. She nodded slightly, then picked up her sticks and cracked them across the surface of her balooga. The deep bursts of sound organized into a rhythm, but it was a new one, faster and more explosive than anything they’d played before. Djinna closed her eyes and settled into the rhythm, her head nodding as each measure found its way back to the first.
Max felt a smile erupt inside of him. The sadness of Yala leaving was still there, but now it was mixed with something else—a jittery kind of pride. He put his lips back on the horn and let this new joyful sadness soar out in each note. Cortinas poked one of the eight-year-olds, and they all started boogying across the stage to Djinna and Max’s new song.
For a few perfect seconds, it was just Max’s horn and Djinna’s drums and the twirling kids and nothing else. Max let his melody swirl along the rhythm and then splattered his notes in between it. A clack-clacking beneath Djinna’s booming let Max know that Fast Eddie had jumped in. One by one, the whole Flood City Orchestra recovered from their surprise and picked up their instruments and joined in the new song. The little flood dancers were laughing and making up all kinds of new moves to go along with the music.
That’s when Max noticed the iguanagulls.
There were just a few at first. They circled the upper rafters of the Music Hall. Then more and more began swooping in through the open windows, and eventually the whole dome was a swarming mass of green feathery creatures. People in the audience gasped and pointed. The orchestra wavered, unsure whether to keep playing or make a run for it, but Cortinas glanced sharply at them and waved his arm to continue.
Max hated iguanagulls. They hadn’t been known to eat anybody in years, but the thought of those giant prehistoric-looking beasts lurking in the sky gave him the creeps. And now they were just a few dozen feet above him, circling and cawing away? If he hadn’t been so thoroughly excited by the new direction of the music, he’d have probably taken off. He felt some responsibility though. Whatever it was had come directly from him and Djinna, had been born of their sorrow, and he wasn’t about to run out on it just because some birdlizards wanted to crash the party.
The iguanagulls settled into the rafters, perching in little clumps along the outer rim of the dome and glaring down at the Flood City Orchestra with their big beady eyes. Meanwhile, the brand-new music rattled on. The rest of the rhythm section had followed Djinna’s lead and jumped in, filling out into a rumbling and joyful accompaniment that shuffled alongside Max’s horn bursts. The hunterflies, after some conferring in their mysterious little buzz language, laid down a perfectly tuned drone beneath it all. Soon the string section joined in and the audience was on their feet, clapping and screaming along.
And then things began exploding.
“Fire!” Mephim hollered. His voice had become increasingly shrill with each scream and now he sounded almost maniacal. Ato narrowed his eyes at the ArchBaron. Then his stomach seemed to float up above his head as Oso steered the cloud cruiser into a sharp dive toward Flood City.
“All our initial stun bombs are deployed,” Chief Gunner Sak yelled over the roaring engines.
“Very good,” Mephim said, suddenly calm again. “Prepare your blasters. Shields up full.”
Sala punched a few buttons on her control panel. “Shields up full.”
“This is it!” Get whispered. “We’re going in.” He swiveled his chair around to the visiscreen.
Ato felt nauseous. Everything seemed wrong. Why were they attacking? That wasn’t the mission! And did anyone else besides Tog and Mephim know about the nuke? Were they going to drop it or keep it for a just-in-case measure? He peered over his twin brother’s shoulder and watched Flood City spin toward them dizzyingly fast on the visiscreen.
“Watch carefully, young Barons,” Mephim said in his calm voice. “And learn.” He turned back to the crew. “Resistance?”
“Negative enemy fire, sir,” Sak reported. “And the streets appear to be empty.”
Mephim’s smile stretched all the way across his face. He closed his eyes. “Excellent.”
“We are in direct firing range of the auditorium, ArchBaron.”
“I want a barrage of scattered cannon fire across the rooftop on my command.”
“Awaiting your command, ArchBaron.”
The cloud cruiser lurched sharply to the right. Ato was flung hard against his seat belt. Get, who had stood up with excitement, flew back into his chair with a grunt. Mephim stumbled a few steps and grabbed a handrail to steady himself. “What was that?” he demanded. Lights flickered on and off and the klaxon burst out overhead.
“Enemy fire!” Sak yelled. “And more incoming!” He had barely finished speaking when the ship trembled again. Everything went dark for a few seconds and all Ato saw were the hundred flashing lights of Flood City spinning around him. The ship lights flickered back on and the crew began shouting back and forth.
“Silence!” Mephim yelled, climbing back onto his seat. “Get ahold of yourselves, soldiers!” The shouting dissolved into scattered grumbles of fear. “What do we know?”
“Wasn’t Star Guard,” Oso reported. “Probably rebels on rooftops with some kind of antiaircraft artillery.”
“Status report?” Mephim glowered.
Sak looked at some screens. “We’ve sustained two direct hits. Massive engine damage, and shields are at thirty percent.”
“Impossible!”
“We can’t take much more. One hit, maybe two, and we’re toast, ArchBaron.”
Ato looked at Mephim’s face. It was twisted with rage. He seemed to be struggling fiercely within himself over something. Both his fists were clenched. “Very well,” the ArchBaron finally said, taking a long stride from his commander’s chair. “Continue evasive maneuvers but stay in the vicinity of the target. I’ll sort this out myself.” He stormed out of the room.
Before Ato realized what he was doing, he’d launched himself out of his chair and taken off down the hall after Mephim. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he couldn’t let the ArchBaron drop a nuke on a city full of innocent people. He crept along the corridor, peering around corners, and then rushed toward the engine room.
Giant chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling. People were screaming, crying, rushing toward the exits. Max was paralyzed for a moment, staring at the chaos around him. The building shook with another explosion and part of the ceiling collapsed in on itself. Mountains of dust shot up into the ai
r. There was more screaming. Then Max could see the starry night sky through the new hole in the auditorium ceiling and hear the menacing hum of the cloud cruiser somewhere nearby.
“Max!”
Everything moved in some strange underwater rhythm, far too slowly.
“Max!”
It was Djinna. She was running toward him. A cloud of dust billowed up around her.
“We gotta get outta here!” Djinna yelled.
The other musicians were scattering toward the exits. Max grabbed his horn, his mind finally catching up with itself. His knees felt weak and he realized he was terrified.
“Which way?”
There was a deafening roar, and they both looked up to see the Chemical Barons’ ship hovering over the gaping hole it had opened in the Music Hall.
“We can’t try to cross to the exits,” Djinna yelled. “We’ll never make it!”
Laser cannons spiraled in quick circles on the underside of the ship.
“The back exit,” Max said. “Through the dressing rooms.”
But even as he spoke, the cannons blasted a bright red line of fire directly into the wall behind Max and Djinna, reducing it to a pile of rubble. They ran toward the edge of the auditorium as the dust cloud exploded around them. Max was pretty sure he was about to die.
“Here,” Djinna said, and collapsed against a wall. Max stopped beside her, gasping for air. Every breath dragged another flood of debris into his lungs. “I don’t think the …” She stopped talking suddenly.
Max followed her eyes to the center of the auditorium, where Old Man Cortinas was hoisting a slicer X3900 onto his shoulder.
“Mr. C!” Max yelled.
The old man squeezed the trigger, and a flash of light burst into the sky and slammed against the cloud cruiser. Max and Djinna cringed and huddled close to each other as more plaster poured down from the ceiling. When Max looked up, Cortinas was rushing toward them with astonishing speed. Max had no idea the old guy could move that fast! He was beside them in seconds, and then another burst of cannon fire shredded the row of chairs where he’d just been standing.
“You have to get out of here!” Cortinas yelled.
Max nodded. That much was a no-brainer. But how?
“My troops have set up escape routes along some of the covered passageways leading to downtown. You should be safe if you can make it outside.”
“Your troops?” Max gaped. Cortinas was just some geezer who cut hair and played the horn. Sure he’d been on the original starship, but nowadays? At his most adventurous he moved at a mild shuffle and usually looked like he might just take a nap at any given moment. Was it all a ruse?
“No time to explain,” Cortinas said with a chuckle. “But I’ll tell you this much: Things are about to get very hairy in Flood City.”
Another blast from the laser cannons. The cruiser had adjusted slightly and the attacks were swinging closer and closer. The air was thick with dust and falling debris and some horrible burning smell. Outside, Max could hear scattered machine-gun fire coming from the roof; probably Cortinas’s troops launching their counterattack. And things were about to get hairy?
Great.
Yala hurdled over crumbled rock piles, dashed between scattering concertgoers, dodged a stray laser blast, and finally ducked safely behind a shattered wall.
“Not bad,” Biaque commented, floating up beside her.
Yala grunted her thanks. “You sure Mom’s safe?” she said once she’d caught her breath.
“Safe as she can be for now,” Biaque said. “I’m more worried about your brother. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
Yala peered over the wall, still panting, and then vaulted it and dashed into the open area in front of the Music Hall. The Barons’ cloud cruiser had spun out of sight, and there was a temporary reprieve in the fighting. She glanced from side to side but didn’t see Max anywhere. He’d either already escaped or he was somewhere inside. The motor of the cloud cruiser started getting louder and then the ship appeared over the auditorium roof like an angry mechanical sun, laser beams blazing. Yala bolted for the double doors that led into the mezzanine and threw herself inside.
“Yala!” Old Man Cortinas came running toward her. He had something long and fierce looking slung balanced on his shoulder, and he was covered in dust. Yala ran over and hugged the old barber. Her hand came away bloody.
“You’re injured!”
Cortinas smirked. “A scratch. Never you mind.”
“Have you seen my brother?”
“He was one of the last to get out,” Cortinas said. “With Djinna. I just sent them back through the dressing rooms because the cruiser was directly over the—”
“Duck!” Yala shoved Cortinas as hard as she could as a laser blast flashed down and exploded next to them.
“Saint Juniper!” Cortinas yelled, hunching up his shoulders. “I have had it with that darn thing!”
Yala helped him up. Her heart had been racing for so long now that she barely even noticed it anymore. What was one more brush with death? She coughed, out of breath, and then eased herself against the wall and onto the floor, safely out of range of the lasers. Little blue dots were blossoming in front of her eyes.
Cortinas stopped fussing with his shoulder cannon for a second and looked at Yala. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Just need a second to catch my breath.”
“Good,” the old man growled. “Because I have to go finish this once and for all.”
The corridor leading to the engine room was empty. That was good, because Ato didn’t want anyone to see what he was about to do. Not that he was even completely sure what his next move was. He just knew he needed to do something, and fast. It was ludicrous really, and against everything he’d been taught, but somehow nothing had ever been clearer.
Ato peeked his head into the engine room, heard Mephim’s frantic voice, and ducked behind the same furnace he’d used to hide earlier that day. “I don’t care if we’re too close!” Mephim growled. “That’s not an issue! Are you disobeying a direct order?”
“No, ArchBaron.” Tog’s voice was weepy. “Just informing you of the consequences of—”
“I know the consequences, imbecile! I’m a Chemical ArchBaron. Now initiate the launch sequence. Target the auditorium. NOW!”
A few blips and hums sounded. The ship rocked back and forth and then came the rat-a-tat-tat of small arms fire crashing against the shields. The dim engine room lights flickered a few times, and then a digital voice announced that the weapons launch would begin in ten seconds.
Nine.
Ato crept out from his hiding place and saw Mephim and Tog huddled over the glowing warhead.
Eight.
There was a large red button on the panel in front of them. He knew if he could hit it, the launch sequence would abort and buy him a little more time. After that he had no idea what he’d do.
Seven.
It was now or never.
Six.
Ato sprang at Mephim, catching him around the waist and pile-driving him forward against the panel. The ArchBaron was quicker than Ato had imagined; he spun his body even as he toppled forward, swiping at Ato with his fists.
Five.
They clambered against the panel, a tangle of thrusting arms and legs, and suddenly Ato found himself staring directly into Mephim’s eyes. An expression of shock came over the ArchBaron’s face.
Four.
Ato punched him as hard as he could and reached up onto the panel, slapping randomly until he saw the red button.
Three.
He hit it just as Tog Apix jumped on him from behind. They both fell forward on top of Mephim.
Launch sequence aborted. Thank you.
“What have you done?” shrieked Mephim. His long arms were clawing at Ato, but there was too much going on for him to get any good swipes in. “What have you … ?” The lights went out again as the ship sustained another blast from the rebels’ missile. Then Sak’s vo
ice blurted over the loudspeaker: “Shields are at zero power! We can’t take another hit!”
Old Man Cortinas jumped up into the air and then landed with a grunt. “No!” he yelled as his jetboots sputtered. A plume of smoke rose from the left one. “This is not the time!”
“Can I help?” Yala said.
Cortinas whirled around and eyed her. The slicer was strong enough to obliterate the cloud cruiser’s shields with a single blast. Another explosion rocked the Music Hall. Dust and debris cascaded around them, but it all seemed far away somehow. Cortinas nodded and held the slicer out to her.
She put her hands on it. Cortinas didn’t let go. “The trigger is touchy,” he said, strangely calm. “And the kickback ferocious.”
“Okay,” Yala said. She tried to unclench her body. This was it. This was what she was about to walk into: war. Deep within her, a tiny voice cried out in fear. She would take lives. She might die horribly. She built a wall around it and nodded at Cortinas.
“Aim for the hull. The blast will shatter what’s left of their shields and probably rupture the main engine valves. Anything less than a direct hit will just be a mere annoyance though, and then their laser cannons will turn you to dust. In fact, they might anyway.”
Another explosion. Outside, people were screaming.
“Do you understand?” Cortinas asked.
“I do,” Yala said. Her fingers itched for the slicer. Her whole body knew what to do. She’d practiced jetboot combat tactics a hundred times over the open water just outside the city, spun through endless flips and dodges carrying whatever weapon-size chunks of debris she could find. She was ready.
“Godspeed,” Cortinas said. He let go of the slicer.
Yala looked up. The nose of the cruiser edged into view, peeking like an angry giant through the gaping hole in the Music Hall ceiling. Laser fire blazed around it. Yala took a deep breath, hoisted the slicer onto her shoulder, then jumped into the air and took off.
Flood City Page 7
