Crystal Keepers (16 page)

“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. Googol 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.”

C
HAPTER

15

RESCUE

F
our 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.

As the minutes passed, Cole grappled with a mix of boredom and anxiety. There was no way to know how long they would wait for the transfer vehicle. They had gotten into position well ahead of schedule in case it came early. If the vehicle showed up late, the wait could drag on for hours. And of course, if the patrolmen transferring Joe took another route, there would be no rescue attempt. Everything depended on the vehicle coming down this section of Flag Street on the way to the holding area.

After some time, a fly started buzzing around near him. Cole swatted at it, but the tiny insect dodged his swings. The communicator came to life without warning. “It's a go,” a hushed voice said. “Target confirmed. It's a go.”

Flustered, Cole grabbed the canister of freeze-foam and ran the few steps to the edge of the roof overlooking the
magroad. Below him, traffic flowed along like normal, levcars darting and weaving. Cole released the safety on the foam gun.

Suddenly all the levcars along one section of the street dropped to the magroad in a grating discord of metallic screeches. Sparks flew and undercarriages howled as the wheel-less cars ground to a halt, jostling against one another before groaning to a stop. Forge had come through as planned—an entire block of the magroad had been deactivated.

Cole squeezed the trigger, and the foam gun bucked in his hands as a high-pressure jet of freeze-foam streaked down to the road. Upon striking the surface of the magroad, the focused stream swelled into smooth drifts of foam. Cole kept his finger on the trigger, pouring on more foam until a white, puffy wall took shape.

From the top of the building, Cole felt somewhat removed from the chaos below. People down on the street were pointing and shouting to each other. To the left of his wall, where the magroad remained functional, levcars coasted to a halt. That section of the road swiftly became a tightly packed parking lot, creating an enormous backup as new levcars continued to arrive. Within seconds of Cole starting to form his wall, Trickster and Roulette shot into view on their warboards, weaving between the grounded levcars.

The wall of foam took shape quickly. Not more than fifteen seconds could have passed before the foamy barricade was complete, perhaps a little sloppier and wider than
necessary. Looking up Flag Street, Cole could see the second barrier Jace had created swelling above the grounded levcars like heaps of whipped cream.

Checking the gauge on his canister, Cole found he had used a little more than 60 percent of the freeze-foam. Not bad, since the big job was done. Next he had to protect the area from incoming patrolmen.

A hasty survey up and down the street revealed no threats at the moment. Nobody was exiting the grounded levcars. Along with taking out the magroad, Forge had promised that he would lock down all of the affected vehicles. Cole noticed that none of the grounded vehicles had overturned or flipped onto their sides. Apparently they were designed to fall flat in emergencies.

Trickster and Roulette stopped at a black vehicle in the midst of the other grounded levcars. It looked a little larger than the other cars. Forge had wondered whether City Patrol would use an official prison transport vehicle or hide Joe inside an ordinary levcar. Apparently they had opted for the armored version.

Trickster hopped down from his warboard and used a handheld canister to spray a side window. Roulette stayed on her warboard, trapgun ready. Trickster repeatedly banged a short, black rod against the window he had sprayed.

“It's not working,” Trickster said over the communicator. “This is some kind of high-grade crystal.”

“Outlaw, move in,” Googol's voice ordered.

“So soon?” Forge's voice asked.

“Speed is everything today,” Googol answered.

The yellow robot rushed into view, dashing between the grounded levcars like a running back. Remembering to check the area, Cole saw a pair of patrolmen racing down the far side of Flag Street on foot, trapguns in hand. His attention had been on Outlaw and the others, so the patrolmen were already closer than he should have allowed. As they neared the creamy barrier Cole had raised, he fired freeze-foam, shooting a little ahead of them at first, but guiding the stream into them.

Googol had assured him that although freeze-foam became solid when it hardened, the porous substance allowed enough airflow for those trapped inside of it to breathe. Cole piled a generous mound over his targets. They flailed a bit, but the foam soon hardened, ending their movements.

Cole checked the gauge on the canister and found he hadn't quite used 70 percent of the freeze-foam yet. Scanning the street, he saw no other patrolmen approaching.

Outlaw reached Joe's transport vehicle and started pounding one of the darkly tinted windows with a large drill attached to his arm. The drill whined, the pitch changing with each impact. With every blow, the black vehicle slid sideways until it pressed up against a neighboring levcar.

“The window keeps holding,” Trickster said over the communicator.

“It's weakening,” Outlaw said. “Almost there.”

His blows sped up, the drill screaming as his robotic arm worked like a piston. Finally the window shattered.

Googol whistled softly over the communicator. “I'd like to know how they bonded that crystal.”

Outlaw staggered back, coated in black sludge. Trickster fired his trapgun into the car and then flopped backward to the street, his entire upper body sheathed in quicktar as well. It looked like he had been dipped in molten chocolate. His legs jerked and kicked. Wherever the black covered, Trickster remained still as a statue.

Roulette sprang past the broken window, firing into the car. She leaped by it a second time, shooting again. Then she peered into the window. Nobody returned fire.

Extending one arm, Roulette sprayed Outlaw with a pinkish mist, and the tarlike sludge melted off the robot. Outlaw then bathed Trickster with a similar mist, and the black stuff drained away from him as well. Outlaw approached the levcar again and reached through the broken window. After a moment grasping and wrangling, the robot reached deeper and then pulled Joe out of the window. Dressed all in pale blue denim, Joe had some freeze-foam clinging to him, and appeared to be unconscious. Outlaw sprayed him with lavender mist, and the foam dissipated.

More patrolmen were coming—not just along Flag Street, but down some of the alleys across the way. Cole shot freeze-foam at the patrolmen on Flag Street, but they did a better job this time diving for cover among the many levcars stuck at a standstill. Changing tactics, Cole sealed up the mouths of the alleys across the way before the oncoming patrolmen could emerge. If he couldn't trap them, at least he could slow them.

“Target acquired,” Roulette said over the communicator. “Our stun gas knocked him out, but Outlaw is reviving him.”

“Good work,” Googol said. “Get out of there. Abandon all posts. City Patrol is closing in from all quarters. Local building security is being notified as well. Move, people.”

The gauge showed that Cole had used more than 90 percent of his freeze-foam. Down below, Outlaw had draped Joe over one shoulder and was running away. Roulette and Trickster fled in opposite directions on their warboards. Patrolmen were climbing the barriers in the alleys and approaching the larger barricade on Flag Street.

“Jace, drop off the south side of your building and head east,” Forge said over the communicator. “Cole, your best bet is to go west off the back of your building and keep heading west. Hurry.”

A rooftop hatch opened forty feet away from Cole, and a man with a trapgun hurried out. By his uniform, he appeared to be a security guard rather than a member of City Patrol. When the man spotted Cole, he raised his trapgun to fire, but Cole let loose a long burst of freeze-foam.

At the relatively close range, the high-pressure stream knocked the guard off his feet. Cole buried the man beneath a creamy mass of foam, feeling a little like he was using a fire hose to snuff out a candle. Then he covered up the three nearest hatches as well, using up the last of the foam.

Crouching, Cole hit the self-destruct button on the freeze-foam canister as he had been instructed to do and picked up the warboard. He sprinted across the roof of the food-processing plant to the side opposite the street, the battle suit allowing him to move in swift, bounding strides.

He paused at the edge of the roof. A narrow greenbelt
with a walkway separated this building from the next one. Thanks to the availability of levcars, Cole had yet to see a building in Zeropolis with a parking lot. Only the green spaces and walkways throughout the city kept the buildings from being constructed directly adjacent to one another.

Cole had accessed the roof of the plant from back here and knew the short route to the point where he and Roulette had come aboveground. The greenbelt looked clear, so he jumped down, his battle suit helping him land on the lawn without difficulty, though his boots left impressions an inch or two deep.