Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten (13 page)

Nick looked back at his grandfather. He
stood like some giant among the planets. A dusty Jupiter clung to
his shoulder, slowly falling apart among the folds of his trench
coat.

Phffitt, phfitt. Phfitt . .
.

Nick’s gaze turned toward Moon.
According to Grand, it was the ghost of an ancient, magical planet
called Mon. Maybe this would explain Nick’s obsession with the
lunar colonies? Maybe Grand’s fantastic version of Moon had been
home all along.

Or maybe Grand was completely
insane.

Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . .
.

Then again, a fairy tale world might
not be so bad. Those Grimm fairy tale stories always seemed
uncomplicated. You know, big bad wolf, three little pigs, make sure
you build your house out of brick, kinda story. If that’s what life
on the moon was really like, then that’s where he belonged, right?
A simple life.

Nick smiled at that idea.

Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . .
. Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . . .

“Yeah!” Nick shouted. “Yes. Yes. Let’s
totally do that—let’s go to magical moons and bridge clouds and
stuff. I’m in!”

Tim rolled his eyes.

Grand laughed. “Very good, Nikolas.
Knew you’d be up for it. Now, we have very little time to lose.
Must return your friends to the refugee camp and then make for the
gateway.” Grand turned to the hovertruck.

Nick’s smile slid away. He
looked back to the Kobayashi brothers and the Wendell sisters, and
then down to the leashes scattered at their feet. Caroline’s
readout blinked:
Life expectancy:
17.
Haley’s:
18.
What would become of them after
Nick and Tim zoomed off to some fantastic world?

“If I go, they go,” said
Nick.

“What?” Grand stopped in midstride.
“All of them?”

“We’re a package deal. I won’t leave
them behind.”

“Our mission is far too dangerous,
lad,” Grand said. “I cannot allow it.”

“You don’t know how they treat refugee
kids,” Nick crossed his arms. “They’re tagged, Grand. A refugee
can’t be more than fifteen miles away from the refugee camp before
they’re shocked by leashes, like a dog. The farther away, the worse
it gets.”

“Isn’t it for their safety?”

“Not even,” Nick’s voice rose. “The
Geneva virus is out of control at the refugee camps. Most of the
refugees die before they’re eighteen. BioFarms counts on it ‘cause
they have a contract with the government. Cheaper to harvest organs
than to grow them yourself. Leashes make sure the refugees don’t
run away with their precious property. It’s not right,
Grand.”

“I have seen darkness in my time, but
this is unheard of,” Grand said. “Surely the U.S. government
wouldn’t allow it. Its own citizens?”

Haley sneered, “BioFarms foots the
bill, and the U.S. looks the other away. It’s considered
bioethically responsible to pass your organs on, so a few fancy
lawyers have their own souls removed, and then draft up the legal
papers. BioFarms can leash us, brand us, chip us, or whatever else
they feel is necessary to protect their assets.”

“They come with us,” said
Nick.

“You’re serious, Nikolas. Aren’t you?”
said Caroline.

“Yes. I am. This could be your home.”
Nick turned back around to Grand. “Sorry, Grand, but we’re a
package deal.”

Grand nodded slowly. “It is
so. But their very lives are in your hands, Nikolas.
You
are
responsible.”

“Yeah, of course,” Nick realized how
non-committal that sounded. “I mean—yes—responsible—I’m
responsible.”

“Nikolas? Responsible? OK. I’m done.”
Tim stepped in between Grand and Nick. “When did everyone take a
swan dive into the Kool-aid? I’m sorry, Grand. I’m sure you think
we’re just kids who’d believe any crazy story about tethered worlds
and cities that speak to stewards or something, but we don’t. The
trackers are just genetic mutations. You’re using nano-technology
for the dust. And you OD’d on some illegal substance playing World
of Witches and Wizards.”

“Grand isn’t crazy.” Nick
rounded on Tim. “He’s
Grand.
I believe him.”

“That’s a no-brainer. Of course you do.
‘Cause you’re like, the most naïve person on the planet. Grand is
senile. Look around. Do you think anyone else believes Earth and
Moon were lassoed together? By magic? Like some old bedtime
story?”

“I do.” Caroline poked her hand
up.

Xanthus straightened. “There’ll
definitely be pain involved if someone tries to stop
me.”

“Really?” Tim said. “Caroline? Xanthus?
Really?”

“Did you see those things?” Brandy
pointed toward Colorado City. “They ain’t from around
here.”

“Where would we live?” Caroline said.
“Do you rent your own house?”

“I own my own house. In fact, I own
Oxbar Estates and all the property that resides therein. Over three
hundred acres of land, just outside of Huron.”

“Does it have a dining room? Like in
the old movies?”

“Yes. Five, to be exact. Six floors.
And a kitchen the size of a tavern.”

“
So—” Brandy waved her hand.
“—are there balls and dances and stuff?”

“Coaches studded with diamonds driven
by a flock of geese will escort you to the finest balls in the
valley.”

Brandy grabbed Caroline’s hand, trying
not to squeal herself into a cardiac arrest.

“I must warn you, though. Mon carries
its own danger,” Grand said.

“It isn’t the danger—” Haley’s hand
unconsciously moved over her naked wrist. “—It’s that we can’t
protect ourselves from it.”

“You will be given the latitude and
freedom that comes with youth at your age,” said Grand. “I will
make you all wards of the House of Lyons.”

Haley turned to Brandy and Caroline.
“Then, we’re going. At least, the Wendells are.”

“Come on,” said Tim. “Just like that?
Daniel?”

Daniel shifted his cane. “Science could
only profit from such a trip. Yes, I will go.”

“Wha—?” Tim looked shell-shocked. “Oh.
I get it. You’re all under the Nick spell.”

“Excuse me?” Haley scrunched her
face.

“Yeah. This has nothing to do with the
Geneva virus or having your own room and fancy costume balls.
You’re under Nick’s crazy ‘Let’s do whatever Nick says ‘cause he’s
so cool, even if he says we should cover ourselves in gasoline and
run into a burning building’ spell. Might I remind everyone that
Nick’s ideas end in pain and death? Are you really going to follow
him into crazy because you think he’s cool?”

Nick waited for someone to deny it,
because “cool” would be the stupidest reason to take a risk like
this.

All eyes moved away from
Tim.

“The question isn’t to them,” said
Grand. “The question is to you, Tim Lyons. Will you cross the
tether with us? You do not have to go. I can set up an account
here. You’ll never have to work again.”

Tim stared at his grandfather
dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe the Earth and Moon were tethered
together in some forgotten, mythical age. On the other hand . .
.

Haley did.

What would Tim choose? Principles were
important. Haley’s lips were soft and pink.

“Whatever,” Tim crumbled.

Grand handed the steward’s horn to Nick
and collected the pressers. “All right. I’ve let nostalgia and
bygones delay us. Now, to the gateway.”

“Like a food pantry,” Xanthus said.
“Or, um, wardrobe?”

Grand stopped. “If it were only that
easy.” He turned and pointed to the midnight sky, “The doorway is
right . . . there.”

“In the clouds?” said
Xanthus.

“No,” said Grand.
“
Beyond
the
clouds.”

“What . . . space?” said
Tim. “
Outer
space?!”

“Yes. Afraid so, Tim.”

“Of course,” said Daniel. “The gateway
is a pre-fabricated wormhole.”

“No,” Grand said. “Nothing so crude. A
wormhole is a tear, a scar in the heavens. This is a passageway
made by the hands of a craftsman. And this is the key. It is a
chronostone.” Grand held up an obsidian stone. “Quickly, now.
Colorado Spaceport’s west gate is shut down for remodeling. Work
crew comes in the morning.”

Eleven • The Good
Life

The air conditioner grumble covered the
soft shuffle of seven kids and one middle-aged man slinking their
way through the empty halls of the Interplanetary Shuttle
Station.

Grand slipped out a green card. “Kings
will invite you to dinner, but janitors will get you into the
storehouse.” Grand raised his eyes, scanning for anything familiar.
“Mason Interplanetary Shuttle. Gate B15 . . . Ah, there ya are.
Wait here by the counter now. Stay to the ground.”

Nick nodded.

“Oh, one other thing Nikolas,” said
Grand.

“Yeah.”

Grand pointed a flashlight to a small
obsidian stone. “I’ll need a co-pilot to activate the doorway while
I fly the shuttle. May I entrust you with the
chronostone?”

“Sure!” Nick caught himself, and
whispered again. “Sure.”

“That’s a good lad. I’ve written the
spell on the piece of paper. Once the potion inside is released, it
will mix with the sunlight and open the gate.”

Nick slipped the chronostone into the
pocket of his khaki shorts.

This all struck him as crazy weird. A
magical stone lay at the bottom of his khakis, among some tissues
and an old pack of gum. But that wasn’t the only thing he felt. It
was there when Grand asked him to take his place as steward. . .
.

Responsibility.

“All right. Need to see about
overriding some pass codes to the shuttle. Stay on the ground.”
Grand moved into the shadows.

Everyone else grunted to
their knees and crawled blindly until they found the service
counter. Xanthus’ holo-glasses clicked, flashing two red lights. He
reentered the world of
Magicgeddon.

“Careful, Haley,” Tim said. “The
counter’s right here. Just ten feet in front of you.”

“I know that’s not your hand touching
mine,” Haley warned.

“No,” Tim cleared his throat. “No. My
hand is not touching yours.”

Nick heard those familiar motherly
sounds of purse straps and flats. “Hey, Caroline.”

“Hungry?” Caroline said. Nick’s eyes
adjusted enough to see Caroline’s maternal nod.

“Hungry? I’m a hormonally-induced food
receptacle. When am I ever not hungry?” Nick smiled.

“Always with the smiles.” She opened
her beige purse and fumbled through a jumble of pencils, notepads,
and sewing kits. In the event of a plane crash, Nick was convinced
Caroline’s bag would double as a flotation device.

“Peach, blueberry or chocolate?” said
Caroline.

“Um, chocolate.”

“Dark chocolate, milk chocolate or
white chocolate?”

Nick blinked.

“Have to make sure there are plenty of
options for the boys. Daniel really likes white chocolate when he’s
researching, multi-grain blueberry granola when he’s thinking. And
Xanthus . . . well, he just likes to eat. I bet you’re a dark
chocolate kinda boy?”

“Yeah.
Love
me some dark
chocolate.”

Without even looking down, Caroline
plunged her hands deep in the purse and retrieved a Mr. Good Crunch
dark chocolate bar. He grabbed the chocolate bar from her hands and
tore into it.

“Thanks.” Nick’s salivary glands were
already firing up.

“Tim’s into Haley, isn’t
he?”

Nick thought about blowing off the
question, but Caroline wasn’t really asking.

“I hope he doesn’t get hurt,” said
Caroline. “Did you hear about the Christopher McCaffrey incident,
Nikolas?”