Project X-Calibur (10 page)

17

114:20:12

I BLINKED
a few times to make sure I wasn't imagining her, but nope—Ivy was up there, watching and listening. When she saw me looking at her, she held a finger to her lips.

Who
was
this girl—Spider-Man? What was she up to?

Barrington walked to the front of the room. “Next subject: alien spacecraft you might encounter in battle.”

Holographic images of weird-looking spaceships hovered a foot above our desks, pulling my attention away from Ivy. The hovering ships kept changing, one example morphing into the next.

“Based on extensive research,” Barrington explained, “we've been able to speculate about the array of craft you might be up against.”

Speculate?
Why didn't he just come right out and say it—he had no idea what we'd be facing.

“The key to victory in any battle is to inflict maximum damage with minimal effort. Hit 'em where it hurts.”

Tyler leaned forward, eyes hungrily taking in every inch of the latest ship. It was the most intense and focused I'd seen him so far. Sizing up an enemy was something he'd probably done a million times in his alligator wrestling career.

“Can anyone tell me where you should strike this alien craft?” Barrington asked.

Tyler immediately slouched again as Malcolm began to form an answer.

“I think Tyler might have a good idea, sir,” I said.

Tyler's head turned to look at me so fast it was a wonder he didn't snap his neck. His eyes were as wide as frisbees.
This better work,
I thought,
or he's going to break me in half.

“Well . . . uh . . . ,” he began, examining the ship. It was oddly shaped, with two sphere-like sections connected by a thinner section in the middle. “If I had to . . . I'd go for the middle there.” He gingerly pointed to it. “It looks like . . . the stomach. And the stomach is always a great weak spot . . .”

Barrington nodded. “That's more or less correct, yes.”

Tyler tried to suppress a grin, and I gave him a thumbs-up.

“This sort of spacecraft will most likely have a torque-generating apparatus in its midsection, so a well-delivered strike there will not only sever the ship in two, but also ensure destruction of the remaining halves,” Barrington finished.

There was a sudden knock on the door before it opened and Merlin and Pellinore entered. We all sat up straight.

“Knights, I'd like to first apologize for the interruption earlier,” Pellinore said to us humbly. “I assure you nothing like that will happen again. My . . . overzealous daughter has been taken home.”

I tried to stifle a grin.
That's what you think.
I quickly looked up, but Ivy had vanished.

Pellinore paced along our desks. “Flying in battle requires not only superb hand-eye coordination, but strength and endurance to handle the emotional and physical stress. When you add the rigors of outer space into the mix . . .”

Barrington pressed a panel and the entire back wall split open, revealing a huge observation window. My mouth went dry. Every now and then the scope of our mission would hit me again, like a brick in the face.

Beyond the glass was a massive space, curving hundreds of feet in all directions. There were hundreds of oddly shaped blocks hovering in midair as if weightless, each about the size of a fist. As I took a closer look, I realized they must fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Are we going in there?” I asked breathlessly.

Barrington grinned, those fiery eyes of his flaring to life.

“Absolutely.”

18

113:56:34

“THE EXERCISE BEGINS
 . . .
now
!” Barrington's voice boomed into our earpieces.

We had been given custom-fitted silver helmets with built-in communication systems. The platform we stood on suddenly slid forward, delivering us into the zero-g arena. Malcolm leaped up into the air effortlessly as we stopped moving. He somersaulted into a few puzzle pieces, sending them floating off in all directions. Kwan threw himself into the air a split second later and held his arms out as if he was surfing on air. Tyler's bulk worked against him at first, and he looked like he was trying to swim in wet glue. Darla immediately began grabbing puzzle pieces and trying to fit them together.

“Step one, knights. Assemble your keys,” Barrington reminded us. Each of us needed to find enough interlocking pieces to make a key that would unlock doors on the other side of the arena. Once past the door, we'd use a gyroscope to steer ourselves back to the landing platform.

My entry into zero gravity wasn't as flashy as the others' by any means. I tried to follow Darla's example, but it was easier said than done. Every time I reached for a piece through my bulky gloves, I'd miss it by inches and fall into a slow-motion somersault.

“Step it up, knights,” Barrington warned. “At this rate, the aliens will be here by the time you finish.”

Everyone's keys started to take shape, even Tyler's. I was falling further behind. As Darla casually tossed aside extra pieces, they'd float in my direction. I positioned myself so that when her castoffs hit my chest, I could pin them down with my gloves.

“Dude, that's not cool!” Kwan barked. Malcolm, who had been keeping to himself on the other side of the arena, flew past Kwan, holding out his limbs to create an air current in his wake. The pieces floated off with him, leaving Kwan with none. Malcolm began grabbing them and trying to fit them into his key as fast as possible.

As Malcolm continued to float past us, the pieces near us
also
floated off with him. And the tactic was working: His key was soon almost done, and we would have to chase him just for the chance to try more pieces.

But I had an idea. I floated to the wall nearest me, put my feet against it, and propelled myself forward with all I had. As I floated past Darla, I shouted, “Grab on!” and held out a hand for her. “Trust me,” I added. “It's the only way!” She hesitated but finally obliged. I wedged my half-completed key under the lip of my helmet, keeping it under my chin so my other hand would be free.

“That way.” I pointed to Tyler. He was still moving along the wall, trying to get to more pieces, though there were hardly any left on his side of the arena.

“Tyler, push off the wall as hard as you can as we pass, then take Darla's hand,” I instructed.

“NOW!” I yelled as we reached him. His fingertips latched with Darla's at the last second, and Tyler's bulk propelled the three of us forward with even more momentum.

“Kwan, grab my other hand,” I called as we passed him. He gave me a glare, but he joined us. With the four of us side by side, we looked like a flying wall. Malcolm, who was now surrounded by the cloud of puzzle pieces, was only one piece away from completing his key.

“Arms out!” I shouted, and Kwan and Tyler extended themselves. As we floated at Malcolm, he had to duck to avoid us. We took all the pieces along with us, leaving Malcolm with none. Then we let go of each other's hands and went back to work.

Darla completed her key first, and a little green light blinked on the end of it. On the opposite wall, a panel slid open to reveal her keyhole. Kwan finished his key next, and then Tyler and I finished ours at almost exactly the same time. More panels slid open. Even Malcolm had quickly caught up and finished his key. We propelled ourselves forward, and all five of us inserted our keys to reveal a gyroscope for each of us. Part two of the race had officially begun.

19

113:35:18

THE GYROSCOPES
looked like skeletal twelve-foot-tall spheres: a small steering area at their centers, surrounded by four large steel rings that could spin independently to generate energy.

I climbed into the center of mine and leaned my back against a padded panel. A handlebar apparatus in front of me, similar to the steering mechanism inside X-Calibur, would allow me to launch. I grabbed it and pushed forward. There was a
THWUNK
beneath me, the sound of two metal clasps coming apart to release my gyroscope from its platform. It rolled forward and floated into the arena airspace. I realized quickly that the steering mechanism wasn't there only to steer left or right. I had to use it to keep the sphere balanced, as well, like steering a rowboat on a choppy lake.

I looked to my left and noticed that Malcolm was moving faster than the rest of us, his gyroscope's rings spinning so fast that their blur made me dizzy. Then I saw why. He was pedaling with his feet. I looked down at my own feet and spotted a mechanism similar to the gears of a bicycle. With a determined sneer, I pedaled with all I had, but in my eagerness I leaned too far forward, and my gyroscope almost spun out of control, top over bottom. I barely saved myself from careening off-course. Then I worked on building momentum.

“Yeah, baby! The race is on!” Kwan shouted as the rest of the knights figured out how to make these things fly.

Tyler's beefy legs and arms moved with unbridled power as he grunted and snarled like he was in a fistfight with his gyroscope. He and Malcolm were neck and neck, with Kwan close behind and Darla and me trailing, as all of us headed toward the landing platforms.

BAM!
Tyler made it to his platform first, but he was so focused on pedaling like a maniac that he missed his mark and collided with the wall. A second later, Malcolm arrived at his own landing pad perfectly. Surprise, surprise. Malcolm had won.

20

110:51:59

AFTER THE RACE,
everyone who worked for the RTR ate in the impressive cafeteria. The tables and chairs were crafted out of sleek steel, the floor was marble, and one entire wall was glass, with a breathtaking (though fake) view of mountains and a lake.

Malcolm assured us that the items in the food line were popular English dishes—stuff like “bangers and mash” (mashed potatoes and sausage), fish-and-chips (French fries), shepherd's pie (
more
mashed potatoes), and black pudding (
more
sausage). With the end of the world upon us, I guess the RTR thought we needed our fill of mashed potatoes and sausage.

“One of everything that doesn't include meat,” Tyler ordered the machines serving food. “No, wait—
two
of everything.”

“
Why
are you vegetarian again?” Kwan asked, helping himself to a heaping pile of shepherd's pie.

“I respect living things. If you ever wrestle an animal, I bet you'll become a vegetarian, too.”

Kwan laughed. “I surf, bro. That's like wrestling the
ocean.
And I still love hamburgers.” He turned to me. “Too much of a joke for you, Earnhardt? Are you going to run and tell on me again?”

Tyler sighed. “Leave him alone, Kwan. Ben's cool with me.”

I gave Tyler a quick nod as we all sat down, but I felt weird about it. The most important battle mankind has ever faced was approaching, and I couldn't deal with a thirteen-year-old
surfer
? I wondered if King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and even Pellinore and the rest of the original knights had squabbled like this. I doubted it.

“Nice job flying the gyroscope,” I said to Malcolm as our eyes met. I still knew so little about him. A curt nod was all I got in return.

“Do you have experience with that kind of thing?” I wondered.

“What? Preparing to fight aliens?” he asked sarcastically. But then he lightened up a bit. “My family has military experience . . .”

“Indeed they do,” Pellinore said as he and Merlin entered the cafeteria. “Going back several generations.” He clapped a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, but Malcolm remained strangely quiet.

“Interesting strategy in the zero-g arena, Ben.” Pellinore's eyes were on me now. “Unfortunately, if you had been in outer space, you would have gotten yourself, Kwan, Tyler, and Darla killed.”

So much for getting a compliment. Kwan and Tyler were staring at me with wide eyes.

“How come?” Darla asked from the end of the table.

“To free up your hands, you put your puzzle keys between your helmet and chin, Benjamin,” Merlin explained softly. “That would have breached your helmet's seal. There's no oxygen in outer space. Suffocation is a terribly painful way to expire.”

“Now,” Pellinore continued. “It's essential that we use the time left to the best of our—” But he stopped when a cluster of techs rushed into the cafeteria, their faces brimming with worry.

“One moment, knights.” He and Merlin huddled and whispered with the techs, and we discreetly moved closer. Maybe we didn't get along so great yet, and maybe I had inadvertently “killed” three of them earlier, but we were still in this together.

“What do you think that's about?” Kwan asked Malcolm.

“Can't be sure. But something tells me it's not good,” was Malcolm's reply.

We watched as Pellinore gave orders, his expression grim but determined. The techs nodded and rushed out of the cafeteria. Then . . .

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Five tiny beeps coming from our countdown watches—
nine hours
had been wiped away from the time left until the aliens arrived. Merlin and Pellinore joined us again, eyes wide with new focus.

“Change of plans, knights,” Pellinore said urgently, holding out a fist. “Our tracking systems are not without their faults, especially when our targets are still in deep space. Hopefully as our enemies get closer to Earth's atmosphere, these . . . adjustments . . . will be taken care of.”

Hopefully?

Merlin added, “We've been forced to speed up our schedule, which means your first foray into our flight simulators will occur immediately. The X-Calibur prototypes, and X-Calibur itself, will follow shortly.”

“Come. We're going to the BSR,” Pellinore commanded. As we followed, I shot Merlin a questioning glance.

“Battle Simulation Room,”
he whispered.