Bring On the War Mice

Dr. Seabrook led the procession upstairs to the Main Hangar. Wendy, Tupper, and Royd walked in front. Parker walked ahead of Sunny, Bubba, and Colby, each in their new KID Suits and carrying their helmets. Only Igby was missing, having departed the fitting session early as instructed by Dr. Seabrook.

  They passed through the enormous clean room. Parker noticed the technicians in the little rooms stopping to watch him and his friends. Many of the technicians turned to fellow scientists and exchanged words made silent by the transparent walls. Parker wondered what they were saying.

  “First rule of aerial combat: never forget to check your six.”

  Startled, Parker looked behind him and saw General Ramsey smiling devilishly from the rear of the procession. Parker had no idea how long the General had been walking with them; he certainly hadn’t been back there the last time Parker had looked over his shoulder.

  “In other words, never let your opponent get behind you,” said Parker.

  “Never,” said General Ramsey.

  Parker turned his attention back to watching where he was walking. More technicians stopped what they were doing and exchanged words with co-workers. Sunny, Bubba, and Colby also noticed they were being watched.

  “My public,” Colby proudly declared.

  Parker suspected they were the morning’s front-page story at Candyland for reasons other than Colby’s prominent celebrity status.

  “Good news travels fast,” said General Ramsey.

  “Bad news does, too,” Parker heard Colby mutter from somewhere behind him. He didn’t like Colby’s apparent cynicism and determination to look at the dark side of things, but he had to admit Colby had a point.

  “What news is that, General?” asked Sunny.

  “There’s a new sheriff in town,” replied General Ramsey. “Actually, there are five of them. From what I hear, everyone’s happy we’re finally going on the offensive, happy Dr. Red is going to get what’s coming to him.”

  That remains to be seen, Parker thought to himself.

  Dr. Seabrook led everyone through the blast doors and through the rush of hissing air. Inside, the Main Hangar buzzed with activity. Dozens of technicians manned the computer workstations on the far right. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the four of them enter wearing their KID Suits. Parker felt funny knowing everyone was watching him. Was this what it was like for Sunny when she stood on the stage, blinded by the spotlight, while four thousand people held their breath so they could listen, and the reigning spelling bee champion Huri Okawa cried from his seat behind her?

  “You’re not getting paid to gawk, people,” called General Ramsey.

  Everyone returned to what they were doing.

  Nearby, Parker saw several new additions to the Main Hangar. Black sheets of a strange shiny material covered four separate, rather large objects, each one looming nearly ten feet tall, situated in a semi-circle. He couldn’t tell what lurked beneath the black covers, but he had a feeling he was going to find out.

  Nearby stood a large mobile service platform, painted bright yellow with black stripes. Steps led from the floor of the hangar up to a three-sided walkway located midway up the platform. Dr. Seabrook examined the platform and walked over to the workstation, where he conferred with several technicians.

  Parker looked up. High above, above the head of the eagle, the hangar doors were rolling open.

  “Some door, huh?” said General Ramsey.

  Parker nodded.

  “It’s even bigger than the Benefield door at Edwards.” General Ramsey grinned.

  “What’s going on?” Parker asked.

  “Watch this.” General Ramsey met Dr. Seabrook’s gaze and gave him a curt nod. Dr. Seabrook donned a compact ear-piece with a short microphone boom on it and said something Parker couldn’t quite hear.

  A few moments later, Dr. Seabrook called out, “We’ve got a bird inbound, folks. Let’s look sharp.” He turned and looked at the open hangar doors.

  Parker followed his gaze. Several long moments of silence passed. “What’re we waiting for?”

  “You’ll see,” said General Ramsey.

  Parker continued to stare at the massive hangar doors. Nothing moved. Sunlight slanted through the open doors. The long rays of light reminded Parker of Union Station back home. Still, it did little to inform him as to why nearly fifty people stood waiting, quiet and patient, for something to happen. He turned his head, listening. He listened harder. “I hear something.”

  “What is it?” asked Sunny.

  “I dunno,” said Parker. “Sounds like . . . like a blow-torch.”

  “A blow-torch?” asked Colby. “You’re insane.”

  “Wait!” said Bubba, “I hear it, too!”

  “You hear your stomach growling,” said Colby. “Next thing you know, you’ll hear bacon sizzling. Or maybe you’re about to rip a great big disgusting—”

  Colby’s words were drowned out as the hissing sound suddenly intensified. Parker looked at the gaping hangar doors just in time to see a Go-Boy Battle-Suit come screaming through them. The hissing blast of exhaust shone blue from its massive feet as it rolled tightly to the right and swooped through the hangar. It dove down low, flying past in a rushing gray-blue blur.

  Parker and the others instinctively dropped to their knees and covered their heads. The Battle-Suit shot upward into the rafters high up above the lights. Parker squinted up into them, searching for the Battle-Suit. The glare blinded him. From out of the fluorescents blazing overhead, the Battle-Suit dropped down on them like a ferocious eagle dropping from the sky to sink its talons into a trout plucked from a mountain lake. Parker watched the ominous suit gracefully stop its descent just a few feet above the shiny hangar floor. The inky-black canopy concealed the identity of the pilot. Parker felt a gentle blast of warm air waft over him as the blue jets of exhaust flickered against the shiny concrete. The Battle-Suit hovered for a moment, and then descended lower and lower. It settled onto the floor as wisps of blue plasma escaped from beneath its feet. The feet touched the floor with a metallic thud, and the blue exhaust shut off.

  “I thought I said no antics.” General Ramsey stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Nice and easy.’ Isn’t that what we agreed upon?”

  The Battle-Suit’s dark canopy whisked backward to reveal Igby inside, wearing his KID Suit and flight helmet. “Hi, guys!” The Battle-Suit’s massive hand waved at them. “Sorry, General. I just couldn’t resist. You never get a second chance to make a first impression.”

  “I’ll say,” said Colby. “You nearly scalped us!”

  “Oh, baloney,” said Igby, “altimeter and proximity warning systems were both in the green. Besides, the suit told me I missed you guys by more than six feet.”

  “Nevertheless,” said General Ramsey, stepping forward, “I would like each of you to note that that was not a textbook approach to landing. When operating within the Main Hangar, you are to fly at taxi power only. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Everyone looked at Bubba, the only one to have answered the General’s question.

  “I can’t hear you,” said General Ramsey.

  “Yes, sir,” said Sunny and Bubba, answering in unison.

  “I still can’t hear you!” said General Ramsey.

  “Yes, sir!” shouted all five of the kids.

  “That’s better,” declared the General. “Now, Igby’s air show antics notwithstanding, I did invite you down here for a reason.” General Ramsey walked over to the semi-circle of tall objects lurking beneath the black covers. “Parker, Sunny, Bubba, Colby, please stand over here.” The General led each of them to stand in front of the covered objects. “I want each of you to take hold of the cover before you and pull it down.”

  Parker, Sunny, Bubba, and Colby exchanged glances. The feet of Igby’s Battle-Suit clomped on the floor as he walked over and stood nearby. Faint whines and whirs emanated from Igby’s suit. Igby grinned eagerly from inside his cockpit.

  Bubba
stepped up first. He walked over to the nearest cover and pulled hard. The black sheet cascaded silently to the shiny floor. Beneath it loomed a yellow and black service platform. Standing in the center of the platform was a second Battle-Suit, identical to the suit Igby operated. The suit gleamed under the hangar lights.

  “Go ahead, Bubba,” said General Ramsey.

  “Really?” asked Bubba. “This one’s mine?”

  “It’s not a puppy,” said Colby. “You’re not going to own it.”

  “I know that,” said Bubba. “General?”

  “Go ahead,” said General Ramsey.

  Bubba walked up to the Battle-Suit standing on the service platform. He slowly climbed the steps up to the gleaming canopy. “Wow!” declared Bubba. “Hurry up, Park, you gotta see this!”

  “Go ahead,” said General Ramsey, looking at Parker, Sunny, and Colby. “We’re burning daylight.”

  Sunny and Colby each approached a cover and pulled it off. Beneath each cover waited a shining Battle-Suit. Sunny walked all the way around the service platform containing her suit, and then ran up the steps to peer into the cockpit. Colby wrapped his knuckles against the side of his suit. It was virtually silent, like knocking on a brick wall. “It’s not a Persian missile, Chip, but this puppy’s for real, all right.” Colby hurried up the steps to get a closer look.

  Parker walked over to the last remaining cover. It rose up before him like an immense black waterfall. The cover was soft and silky in fingers. He gave it a tug and it came free easily, falling silently to the floor and pooling at his feet. A fifth and final Battle-Suit stood before him, proud and defiant, sparkling like a gem.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Parker looked over his shoulder. Dr. Seabrook stood behind him.

  “It’s like a dream,” said Parker. “A dream come true.”

  “Maybe you’re afraid none of this is real.”

  “Or maybe that it is.” Parker walked up the steps of the service platform. He realized instantly that this Battle-Suit was much different from anything he’d seen so far. The simulator at Skycade was cheaply made out of cardboard and plastic. The mock-up in Sky City Hobbies and Toys felt like an empty can of tuna compared to the solid, heavy feeling of this machine. He pressed a red-and-white striped button marked Canopy Release and the long, sleek bubble whisked open, sliding backward and out of sight. Parker peered into the cockpit. It looked like the arcade simulator. He grabbed the sturdy silver handles built into the sides of the cockpit and slowly climbed in. The thickly-padded black seat-back and headrest held his body comfortably in position. The interior of the Battle-Suit had a wonderful, distinct smell, like electronics and new leather. Parker breathed it all in.

  “Everyone strap in, please,” Dr. Seabrook instructed. “Your tuners are here to help so don’t hesitate to ask.” Dr. Seabrook said more quietly, “Parker, let me know if you need a hand.”

  “I will.” Parker found the four thick red safety belts and attached them to a central buckle. He felt as though he were standing inside a robotic tank. A tank that could fly, he added. He looked around and saw Wendy, Tupper, and Royd standing on the other service platforms, helping Sunny, Bubba, and Colby climb into their suits.

  “The suit will feel awkward at first,” called Dr. Seabrook. “Get into position, with your feet in the stirrups. Put on your helmets and then slide your hands inside the gloves.” Parker did as instructed. His helmet fit perfectly and he told himself the fitting downstairs hadn’t been so bad after all. He slid his arms down into the arms of the Battle-Suit. His hands slid into snug, soft gloves. “The suit is very difficult to move until it’s powered-up,” said Dr. Seabrook.

  “How do we power-up?” asked Bubba.

  “Your suit is voice-activated,” answered Dr. Seabrook. “I want each of you to say in a calm, clear voice, ‘Power-up.’ Your tuner will be standing-by to help if necessary. Parker, we’re monitoring you remotely from the workstation.”

  Parker found several technicians looking at him from their places along the wall of computers. On the various screens he saw a separate display for each Battle-Suit. A live video feed showed each of them inside the cockpit as well as a first-person perspective showing what each of the kids saw from his or her vantage point, a feed Parker guessed must be coming from tiny cameras mounted in their helmets. This was getting better by the minute. “Power-up,” he said, hoping he sounded confident.

  Nothing happened.

  He must have made a mistake.

  Then, after a split-second, the suit came to life. The cockpit lit up like a marquee in downtown Kingdom City. Dozens of gauges and switches illuminated all around him. Purple light filled the cockpit and the gauges glowed ruby red like light from a laser. He felt padded air bladders lining the arms and legs of the Battle-Suit balloon up and press against his own arms and legs, strapping him in. When he had first climbed inside it, the Battle-Suit felt clunky and mechanical, artificial. Now, it seemed to possess an energy all its own, as though his voice command had struck like a bolt of lightning, bringing the Battle-Suit to life.

  “Now, very carefully and one at a time,” Dr. Seabrook continued, “I want each of you to slowly take one step forward off of the service platform. Who wants to go first?”

  There was a palpable silence in the hangar.

  “Ladies first?” Igby had maneuvered his suit closer to Sunny. Igby beamed encouragement at Sunny.

  “No way, Jose,” said Sunny, “not me.”

  “Parker’s the resident stud,” said Colby. “He should go first.”

  “Quite right, old chap,” said Bubba, suddenly affecting a rather good British accent. He turned to Parker. “Show us how it’s done.”

  “Fine,” said Parker. He tried to act as though he’d done this a million times. Inwardly, however, he was a wreck. His mind was a mess of boiling excitement tinged with abject terror. What if this contraption was to short-circuit and blow up or something, co-pilot and all? “Igby, are you sure these things are going to work?”

  “Oh, look at the little sissy,” said Colby. “‘Igby, are you sure these things are going to work?’” he whined.

  “Parker,” said Igby, “you saw me fly into the hangar, didn’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “The suits are all perfectly safe. I’d stake my life on it.” Igby fixed him with a steadfast grin.

  Parker took a deep breath. He wiggled his fingers nervously and was astounded to see the Battle-Suit’s powerful fingers wiggle in perfect unison. He slowly raised his arms. The movement was effortless. He had expected more resistance, for the joints of the suit to be stiff. He expected to have to work against the weight of the suit.

  “See how easy it is?” asked Igby.

  Parker took another deep breath. He imagined himself taking a confident step forward off the platform and falling flat on his face. He wondered if he’d get hurt. Or maybe crushed to death. At the very least, his Battle-Suit would probably be damaged. He wouldn’t be able to go on the mission. His friends would have to face Dr. Red without him. And, worst of all, he would blow his only chance to find his dad. Parker looked at all the people standing around watching him, waiting for him to do something, waiting for him to go first, waiting for him to lead. He wondered if they would laugh at him.

  “I thought you said you play Go-Boy at the arcade almost every day,” said Colby.

  “I do.”

  “Not for nothin’, what are you waiting for?” said Colby.

  “The simulator is made of cardboard and plastic,” said Parker. “This is completely different.”

  “I thought you said you were ready,” said Colby. “Yesterday, you stood here and agreed to do this.”

  “I know I did,” said Parker, “but now that I’m actually standing here, getting ready to take my first step, it’s completely different.”

  “But you said—” began Colby.

  “Hey! Wizard of the Sky! Put a sock in it!” said Bubba. “Parker will go when he i
s damn well good and ready. You got that?”

  Colby grimaced and his brow furrowed. “‘Your ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash.’” His expression softened. “‘The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies room.’” Colby laughed in a high-pitched cackle. “‘No, no, there’s two O’s in ‘Goose,’ boys.’” Colby took a deep breath and shook his head. “Sorry. Whenever you’re ready, sport.”

  Parker looked down at the ground, at the reflection of his enormous suit shining in the polished concrete. It looked to be a long, long way down. “This is completely different,” he said quietly to himself.

  “Parker?”

  Parker found Sunny looking back at him from inside her cockpit.

  “Don’t think about how to catch the Golden Snitch,” she said. “Just catch it.”

  Parker looked closely at Sunny. She looked just like she did yesterday, when he opened the front door and saw her standing there in her yellow blouse, holding the gift she’d brought him. Except for one small detail. For now she stood next to him, nearly ten feet in the air, locked inside a multibillion-dollar weapons system, preparing to go off on some far-fetched bounty hunt. He didn’t know what a Snitch was, golden or otherwise, but he thought he understood the sentiment.

  Sunny smiled at him, ever-so-slightly.

  Chapter 13

  The Sword In The Stone