Flood City

by Daniel José Older

  Ato looked like he was trying to swallow a brick for a few seconds and then calmed down. “Djinna’s right. I’m … sorry. What I was trying to say was … they want to be able to explore Flood City without having to deal with the actual people who live here. Thus, the bomb. I think Mephim and the others will be plotting a way to get far enough away from Flood City to nuke it without getting nuked themselves.”

  “Great,” Max said. “All they need is to mug someone and gank their jetboots and we’re toast.”

  “I don’t think that’d do it,” Djinna said. “Jetboots’ll get you high enough, but then what? It’ll take a while for the dust and fallout to settle before the place is inhabitable again, and there’s no way they could wait it out on jetboots.”

  “She’s right,” said Ato. “That’s probably the only reason they haven’t done it yet. My bet is they’re banking on the cruiser.”

  Djinna made a face. “The one that nose-dived into an apartment building? Good luck with that. Yala and the rebels put a hole in the hull. That thing won’t fly again.”

  “No,” Ato said, blinking as the realization dawned. “The cruiser won’t, but the escape pods might.”

  “There’s escape pods?” Max gaped. “Crud!”

  “And if they can get to them, they take off in a group of let’s say three. They shoot straight up into the air, one has the nuke and the other two run interference, and the second they make it high enough …”

  “Pow,” Djinna said. “Flood City becomes a nuclear wasteland. How high are we talking?”

  “About a mile, give or take.”

  “So, wait,” Djinna said, her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s the plan?”

  “Well,” Ato said, “since we’re still here, I guess it’s safe to assume that the Star Guard hasn’t already given them access through whatever creepy contact they have. So, we stake out the cloud cruiser, right? Take shifts or something, maybe set up a holocam?”

  Djinna made a noncommittal growl.

  “And then when the Star Guard leaves,” Max said, “we get there before the Barons do, confiscate the nuke, and disable the escape pods, and then be out!”

  “And if they get there while we’re there?”

  This was the part Max didn’t like thinking about. “We fight ’em.”

  “With what?”

  “With these,” he said, pulling the shiolyders out of his knapsack.

  “Shiolyders!” Djinna said in a half whisper, half yell.

  “Cortinas gave them to me earlier. Said we had to be prepared, arm the population and whatnot.”

  “Do you know how to use ’em?”

  Max shrugged. “Point and shoot, I guess.”

  Djinna rolled her eyes. “This is quite a plan.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “A better plan to stop a bunch of trained soldiers and an evil wizard from breaking onto the crashed cloud cruiser and stealing back their nuclear weapon?” She thought for a moment. “Nope. But what if they get away, or get there before we do? We need a backup plan.”

  “Or ten,” Ato added.

  Max made a kind of gurgling sound and they both turned to look at him. “Um … Max?” Djinna said. “You alright?” He just stared off into nothingness. “Look, I know you’re worried about the city and everything, but you gotta get with it. We need you—”

  “Remember the other day?” Max snapped his head toward her, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused. “When you told me that enlarging a hologram was like the easiest thing in the world?”

  “Well, I think I said it a little differently, but yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

  “I think,” Max said calmly, “I sort of more or less have a backup plan that might stop Mephim from nuking Flood City.”

  Djinna and Ato stared at Max for a few seconds.

  “Great,” Djinna said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Dante could smell the fresh evening air, feel the sunset breeze coming through his bedroom window. Something was going on in the streets of Flood City—it wasn’t the usual tranquil sounds of people chatting on their way home from work. Jetboots dashed past the window, voices cried out in anger and fear. Somewhere not too far away, a Star Guard transporter was taking off in a hurry. Whatever it was probably had to do with the intruders’ hasty departure. They were almost done preparing now, which meant it wouldn’t be long.

  Dante reached out his hand till it touched Effie’s little shoulder. He could feel her trembling, the poor thing, and knew she was doing everything in her power to keep from bursting into tears. The door handle turned and Dante heard someone take a deep breath. It wasn’t the Quiet One. He never would’ve hesitated like that. The killer closed the door behind him, took one step into the room and then another.

  Fear made everything seem very crisp and sharp suddenly. Dante felt like he could smell each flower growing in the little soil pot outside the window. He was aware of murmurs in the bowels of the building that he’d never noticed before, ambient groans that shifted every few seconds in tone like some endless whale call. The killer’s sweat, his however-many-days-without-bathing funk, came rushing to Dante like a messenger warning of the attack.

  Get stared across the room at the girl and her brother. He hadn’t given them much thought up till this point. He’d felt bad for them at first. He’d been grateful that Mephim and Sak had taken care of the rest of the family. Just thinking about it still made him nauseous. He’d seen death before but always in the thick of battle: glorious deaths, sudden, horrific yes, but at least they had context and made some … sense. If death can ever make sense. But that family … Get shuddered. They’d all known before it happened, and that look of utter helplessness and desperation would haunt Get forever.

  Anyway, he had to focus on the task at hand. These two had gone from objects of pity to vague nuisances as time had worn on. More mouths to feed, prisoners to be checked on. And now they were useless. Now everything pointed to a quick, clean escape, and these two being alive made that impossible. Two quick slices, Mephim had said, handing him the knife. That’s it.

  Get had nodded, meeting the ArchBaron’s eyes with confidence. But now, staring down these two living, breathing beings, he felt all weak and pathetic. The whole thing seemed wrong. He took a step toward them. Tried to ignore the girl’s whimpering and how much she reminded him of his little cousin GeeGee up on the base fleet. Then he thought about what he’d do if anyone ever hurt GeeGee. A flash of rage reared up inside him. These Flood City scumbags wanted to take over everything. To stand against the Chemical Barons. He directed his rage at the boy across the room, who couldn’t be much older than he was, and took another step forward, this one with more confidence.

  “Hey there,” the killer said, his voice wavering just slightly. “Brought you some lunch.” He was just a boy. Dante’s own age, maybe younger. And he was afraid.

  Dante stayed perfectly still. Effie had stopped trembling. Her breath came in quick little gasps. The killer would probably go for Dante first to get him out of the way. A few more uneven steps and he was right in front of them, panting for breath. Dante figured he was within arm’s reach, but it was too risky to strike out and miss, so instead he picked up the chair he was sitting on and swung it as hard as he could. It wasn’t a direct hit, no satisfying crunch that Dante had been hoping for, but he definitely caught the killer off guard and smacked his knife hand. Something heavy and metallic clanked to the ground and that was all Dante needed to hear: the killer was unarmed, at least for the moment. Dante hurled himself forward, catching a fist directly in the jaw as he threw both arms out and tackled the boy in front of him.

  For a few terrible seconds, everything was a scattered chaos of scuffling and painful jabs. “Effie,” Dante hissed. “The knife!” He felt the killer scramble beneath him. There were a few more moments of terror and confusion as Dante fought to control all the flailing arms and legs. Then, very suddenly, the boy on the floor stopped moving. Dante caught his breath. He w
as still alive. He wasn’t bleeding. “Effie?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have the knife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Pointing into the man’s neck.”

  The boy was still breathing. There hadn’t been any horrible cutting sounds. “You didn’t stab him, right?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Dante felt his heart pounding in his head. “I’m gonna find something to tie him with. If he says anything, stab him.”

  “That’s my plan.” Effie’s voice wasn’t shaking anymore.

  “Why, in the hologrammiest of hologram kingdoms, is this holodeck so difficult to work?” Max said.

  Djinna shoved him out of the way. “Because it’s a special one and does special things.” She pouted her lips and started tapping away on the keypad.

  “Is one of those special things making a very basic holocall from one deck to another, or is that beneath the might—”

  “Yes!” Djinna said. “That is one of the many things it does, but you have to know how to work it.”

  “You have to be special,” Ato offered.

  Djinna glared at him and then went back to the keypad. “There. It’s all set up for you non-special people to use. Here, gimme the number.”

  Max passed her the crumpled piece of paper that Biaque had handed him what seemed like forever ago. She furrowed her brow, tapped a few keys, and then stepped out of the way. Max walked up to the holodeck. “It’s gonna be weird seeing a vapor on a holodeck,” he announced to no one in particular, “cuz they’re already kinda—” A perfectly crisp image of a vapor blipped into existence in front him. “Oh!” Max gaped. “It looks so real! This is a special holodeck, Djinna.” Max could make out the vast hull of the ocean liner stretching out into the darkness behind the vapor.

  The vapor looked nonplussed. “Os Olendak.”

  “What?”

  “Os Olendak.”

  “I, uh … don’t speak … vapor.”

  “It is my name,” the image croaked, looking expectantly at Max.

  “Oh! Uh … Maximiliano Salazar,” Max said. “Nice to meet you.” That part wasn’t necessarily true, but it was the best he could come up with. The vapor just looked at him. “I’m, uh, looking for someone named Biaque?”

  Os Olendak raised a suspicious eyebrow and squinted at Max. “Reeeeeally?”

  “Uh-huh. Is he … home?”

  Without a word, Os floated off and Max was left staring at the ruined labyrinth that was once a luxury ocean vessel.

  “Max!” Biaque popped up out of nowhere. His smile seemed to go on forever. “Was wondering about you the other day.”

  “Hey, Biaque!”

  “How’s your sister, Max?”

  “She’s good. Well, no … she’s not that good actually.”

  Biaque frowned. “Well, the Star Guard boot camp is definitely—”

  “Biaque, we need your help.”

  Biaque’s eyes narrowed and his long mouth moved all the way to one side of his face. “You’re in the holographer’s tower, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in six and a half minutes.”

  “Great. And, Biaque?”

  “Yes, Max?”

  “Bring your friends. All of them.”

  Six minutes and forty-one seconds later, Max, Ato, and Djinna stood at the foot of the holographer’s tower facing a floating semicircle of vapors. There must’ve been hundreds of them. Max had no idea that so many even existed. Ten minutes and seventeen seconds after that, Max had explained the ins and outs of his plan. There was an odd silence as the crescent of vapors hemmed and hawed and swayed gently in the breeze. They seemed to be consulting somehow, although none of them spoke a word or even exchanged a glance.

  Biaque floated out of the crowd. “It will be tricky, but we’ll do it.”

  “Great!” Max said. “Now …”

  “Djinna!” Dr. Maceo’s voice came from somewhere overhead. “Djin— Oh my! That’s a lot of vapors!” Djinna rolled her eyes. Everyone looked up at Dr. Maceo’s startled face peering out from one of the tower windows. “Hello, vapors!” he yelled with a friendly wave. The vapors didn’t reply.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “Max’s mom is on the holodeck. She wants to talk to him.”

  Biaque put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “Go. We know what to do.”

  Max smiled at him. “Thanks, Biaque.”

  “I don’t know why my dad couldn’t just tell you that,” Djinna grumbled as they walked up the winding tower stairwell.

  “What?”

  “You were standing right there! And he’s all”—Djinna affected a pretty convincing imitation of her dad’s accent—“‘Djinna, Max’s mom is on the holodeck.’ You know? What’s the deal? Just tell the person you’re talking to.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m not the emissary.”

  “Max! You’re okay!” If Dr. Sarita hadn’t been standing on the holodeck, you’d swear she was really there.

  “Of course I’m okay, Mom! Whatsup?”

  “I was just worried. There’s so much going on right now. The Star Guard pulled out their last ships.”

  “What?”

  “Commander Uk came up on the holodecks all over Flood City and said that they’d had it with the rebels and we’re on our own.”

  Max bristled. What epic timing they had. “And they’re already gone? All of them?”

  “Yes, Max, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! It’s not safe out there right now.”

  The crashed cruiser, the nuke—all unprotected.

  “Mom, I gotta go.”

  “Max, wait! Max!”

  Mephim snapped shut the mini-holodeck that Bartrum Uk had given him and grinned. It was one of those true from-the-soul grins that Mephim only very rarely made, and when he did it usually made people around him stop what they were doing and edge carefully away. Everything was going just right. Better than he’d hoped. Maybe it was the power of that iguanagull working inside him, bending the universe toward his will, but somehow, things seemed to be falling perfectly into place.

  Bartrum Uk was a slippery, unreliable negotiator. He was not to be trusted, that was for sure, but he seemed at least to have delivered so far. It had taken several extremely tense and risky overtures to the blasted giants before Mephim could get an audience with the Star Guard commander, and even then the guy seemed ready to throw everything away and lock him up at any given moment. Get, who Mephim had dragged along to try to give him a much-needed lesson in diplomacy, had almost blown the whole thing to pieces with his loud mouth and relentless hardheadedness. He would have to be dealt with more severely in the future, when everything settled down again.

  The growl of a Star Guard transporter taking off startled Mephim from his reverie. He pulled the curtain away from the window with a long finger and craned his neck just enough to see the spaceship blast into the sky over Flood City and then zoom away. Yells of confusion, anger, and celebration came from the streets. Mephim smiled again. The moment had arrived. He let the curtain fall closed, took a long, satisfied breath in the darkness of the bedroom, and then stormed out into the kitchen to prepare for the attack.

  “Are we ready?” Mephim said, looking around the room. Tog and Sak had packed up all their supplies and were standing by the door. Tamin was almost done shoving canned food into a bag. Everything seemed to be in order. Everything except … “Wait, where’s Get?”

  “He went to deal with the you-know-whos a few minutes ago,” Sak said with a nod toward the hallway.

  “And he’s not back yet? Someone go …”

  The roar of jetboots revving up sounded from down the hall. “Uh-oh,” Sak said.

  “Go find out what happened,” Mephim muttered. “Now.”

  Sak rushed out of the room and a second later ran back in. “Take cover!” Sak yelled, throwing himself on the ground as Dante exploded into
the room with little Effie clinging on to his back. Mephim lunged out of the way just in time to avoid getting smashed. Dante and Effie careened directly into the far wall. The whole building shook and some plaster flaked down from the ceiling.

  “Get them!” Mephim yelled.

  Dante had already swung around and was wobbling back and forth, shaking plaster off his head. “Left!” Effie screamed in his ear. “No! A little more to the right!” He turned slightly, following her commands. “There! Now go!” Dante jumped up in the air and was about to blast off when a huge weight collided against him. He hit the floor hard. Tog was on top of him and Effie, thrashing his arms and legs madly.

  Dante heaved himself to one side, throwing Tog off, and then pushed down on his jetboot accelerators as hard as could. He surged forward faster than he’d expected and threw his hands over his face just before crashing into the far wall. Effie wasn’t with him, he realized in a panic. There were bad guys all around, four he figured. Effie must’ve been flung off when he rolled to shake the one who’d tackled them. Dante scrambled to his feet. His face was burning and his whole body ached, but there wasn’t time to think about that now. The guy he’d knocked over at the door was still recovering over at nine o’clock, but someone else was rushing toward him from three. Dante grabbed the first thing his hands could find, which turned out to be a small table, and swung it like a baseball bat in front of him. The impact reverberated through his whole body and the attacker groaned and collapsed.

  “Effie!” She should be somewhere around midnight. Yes! That was her whimpering at eleven thirty. Her little footsteps rattled toward Dante, but there was someone else nearby. Someone tall and silent: the Quiet One. Dante could almost feel the hatred radiating from him. He barely made any noise as he swept across the room from two o’clock, making a direct course to intercept Effie. Dante leapt, pushing down on his accelerators just hard enough to jolt him toward his little sister. Flying through the air at that speed was terrifying, but he had choice. He wrapped his arms around her, felt the wind knock out of her little body as he swooped her up in his grasp, and then pivoted hard to avoid crashing headfirst into another wall.