Please Don't Tell My Parents I Blew Up the Moon (31 page)

“Gimme!” Remmy ordered Ray. He slid one huge, old-fashioned typewriter into her arms.

She grunted a little, but carried it. I couldn’t. We’d added an eleven-year-old, and I was still the weakest member of the Inscrutable Machine.

“Steal that!” She ordered Claire next. Claire slid up the path to a grown-up man wearing mechanic’s goggles, who held a woman’s hand at arm’s length. They paused their hesitant sidestepping dance for Claire to point at his toolbox. The mechanic nodded, and Claire scooped up the box in both hands, skated back, and deposited it on top of Remmy’s typewriter.

Remmy waddled towards a little booth despite being loaded up until she couldn’t see over the top. Ever a show off, Ray grabbed her by the waist, and carried her on one shoulder and the spare typewriter on the other the rest of the way. There, he pulled an automaton forward and down out of the booth long enough for Remmy to pull open the back of its head and disable it.

Right in front of me, a square of pavement flipped up, the thin surfacing of a trapdoor big enough for a car. The metal monster that rose on a shuddering platform was about car sized.

The Jupiter colonists had mecha.

Okay, crude, mechanical mecha, but a heavy platform with a frontal shield now squatted before me on legs made of masses of pistons and chains. Bulges and nozzles framing the shield resembled embedded guns, although they could actually have been anything.

“Here’s our ride!” Remmy shouted, pulling herself up onto the platform.

I squeaked when Ray tossed her the second typewriter, but she caught it. She ended up on her backside and winced, but she didn’t look actually injured. Just sore.

More politely, Claire pushed the toolbox up next to Remmy. Why she needed it was beyond me, since pliers, wire cutters, and wrenches all came out of her many pants pockets. In seconds, she had the cover off the typewriter, a plate off the mecha, and was bending levers back to screw together, linking the two.

One outstretched finger stabbed a typewriter button. The crouching mecha went right down to the floor. She pressed another. It stood up straight.

Making big, scooping beckoning motions with one hand, she yelled, “All aboard! Transportation and freight service has been provided!”

Claire pulled herself up with one hand, light as a feather. Ray jumped up. I had to grab with both hands, expecting to struggle. Instead, Ray grabbed my wrist and yanked. My arm hurt, and then everything went momentarily weightless as I dropped back right into his arms.

He let me slide back down to my feet immediately, and Remmy’s fingers jabbed at clicking buttons. Our mecha lurched towards the main staircase. We passed another little candy-striped booth, and behind the music, an automaton complained. “You don’t have permission to―I am being told your punishment for that has been canceled. Good children do not―I am being told your punishment for that has been canceled.”

Ha! “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

We left it behind. Ray raised my hand high as he turned to face the laughing, staring crowd.

His feet skipped. He was dancing.

I did not dance. I got dragged around, my feet flying everywhere just to keep from falling down. He threw me over his head and caught me by my waist. He spun me in circles. He twisted me from side to side, until I could hardly tell up from down.

The mecha’s platform wasn’t that big, but he kept us from falling off. That was entirely his doing.

Amidst the blur, I caught snapshots of things going on around us. We weren’t the only ones dancing. Some of these people were as good as Ray, if not as athletic. Automatons stood around babbling in confusion as they tried to punish and forgive people simultaneously. The mecha tramped down stairs, ducked low to crawl through lower ceilinged passages, and fit just barely through bulkhead hatches.

When Ray let me go to give Claire a few whirls, I didn’t mind at all. Instead, I fought to keep my feet against the dizziness, pointed at any group of motionless people, and unleashed Archimedes at them. “Dance! Dance, my minions! Your boring, orderly existence has been cast aside by the Inscrutable Machine! Dance before our power, and enjoy yourselves for once in your lives!”

My duty as a supervillainess done, I sat down very hard and laughed a lot.

We passed the stairway to the childrens’ dorms. At the top, Donovan tried to keep up with a blonde who had even Claire beat in ‘early bloomer’ statistics. He shuffled as awkwardly as I would, but (it had to be) Sabrina bounced and kicked as if she’d had practice―and she’d cut long gashes in her skirt to give herself room to do it.

Another HA! Maybe their engagement would work out after all.

We left the wood paneled hallway, and entered grey metal service corridors deep inside the ship, where a chill hung in the air we hadn’t felt nearer to the life-giving rotor.

There weren’t many announcement… speakers? Tubes? Gramophones? I didn’t actually know how sound traveled on this space station without electricity. Whatever, the music was a lot quieter down here.

Remmy didn’t have to raise her voice at all to tell us, “I made the security automaton open all the doors! All the people and automatons are distracted. Is supervillainy always this easy?”

“Always!” Ray promised.

“Except when you need it to be,” Claire added.

The mecha stepped into a familiar room. The automatons were intact, and the walls and floor weren’t covered in charred Puppeteer flesh, but the central rotor shaft came out of the ceiling and into a series of machines that looked more like pumps to me than anything else.

“Good children should not―I am being told you are forgiven for trespassing,” an automaton next to the central machine greeted us.

I hopped off the mecha. My feet were stable enough by now to step up to the automaton confidently while it dithered and contradicted itself. Grabbing an edge of its chest plate, I said, “Vera. Melt,” and pointed at first one bolt, then another.

Vera melted them off with pinpoint pink heat beam precision. Melted metal did wonders for making the room less chilly.

Forcing the chest plate open, I scooped the remaining control squid out of my pocket and tossed it into the churning, spinning mass of gears.

They all seized up. Tentacles slithered up and down support struts, and the blobby body widened into a cape. Underneath that tent, machinery ground back into bulging, pulsing operation.

“Two tanks of aetheric fluid, please.”

“Of- of- of course, child. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Remmy leaned over the mecha’s shield, pointing at a couple of big metal canisters on the wall. “We’ll take those, too.”

“Certainly.” The automaton’s head bounced around a lot, until it turned and stuck its arms into the pump machine. Glass jars swung around. Different colored gases, then liquids poured in and out of them. Lights strobed along tubing.

The whole central machine swung around, presenting us with two glass vats twice as big as a party helium tank, both filled with dimly glowing grey fluid. Ray picked them up one at a time, and slid them into metal canisters he laid aside the first two on the mecha.

The automaton swiveled back to me, clasping its hands in front of its hips. “Is that all- all I can do for you nice children?”

Ray tugged at the brim of his hat in a facetious show of good manners. “That will be all, ma’am. May I suggest you call for repair when we leave? Your people will need you.”

The automaton’s head bobbed up and down, nodding spasmodically. I could see the red tentacle controlling it winding through the joints. “What a good idea. May I?”

That last had been directed at me. I gave it a dismissive wave. “Sure. We’re done with you.”

“That’s nice.”

With a sucking sound, the blob of red Puppeteer flesh in its chest pulled out, jumping down to the floor and racing for the exit.

It wasn’t exactly fast. Tentacles and a boneless body did not make for either speed or agility. Ray caught up with it in three steps, snatching it up off the floor. As its tentacles groped at his arm, I pointed Archimedes’ at it. “BE STILL!”

The squid stopped struggling.

“Sleep!”

It curled up into a harmless ball of red meat.

Remmy and Claire gaped. Ray said, “I don’t think you should have told it you were done with it.”

I let out my breath in one big sigh. Okay, that made sense.

“I didn’t know they could detach! I thought once they were on, they were on.”

Ray had an answer for that, too, as he handed the rubbery lump back to me. “I bet that’s true, if they attach to an animal. Controlling robots is a sideline.”

That also made sense. Squirmingly unpleasant sense. Penelope’s Log: Never, ever use these on anything alive.

In fact, burn this one as soon as we got out of here.

To which end: “Getaway time, boy and girls. Where do we meet your brother, Remmy?”

Ray and I climbed back up on the mecha, which at least was crouched so low, I didn’t have to struggle.

Remmy turned the metal walker around, which it did with surprising agility. She pointed back up the hall we came in. “Same place we left him, docked out on the wing. I hope he’s back by now.”

Claire shrugged, lounging next to the aetheric fluid canisters. “If he’s not, we’ll cause a little more fun chaos. These people need a break.”

With us on its back, the mecha crawled through low metal corridors towards the more accommodating parts of the station. Ray’s recorded electro-swing got louder.

Right as we reached the first set of stairs, the music cut off. A wailing metallic sound took its place. It wobbled up and down too slowly to be an ambulance siren, but that was the closest thing I could think of.

Remmy’s eyes went wide, and she whispered, “Invasion.”

Her fingers jabbed at the typewriter keys so fast, it froze up after two steps and she had to untangle the levers. That didn’t stop her from sending the mecha pounding up corridor after corridor, heavy metal feet thumping on carpet or clanging against metal.

Nobody asked, but Remmy babbled anyway, “It might… yeah. It might just be Jets. Maybe Thompson got sick of waiting for us and decided to steal some aetheric fluid himself.” Whatever scenario she was describing, she didn’t sound like she believed it at all.

We passed people. They weren’t dancing anymore. Now they shouted and ran around, but I couldn’t catch any words. The terror on their faces communicated plenty.

It didn’t take half the time to reach the top deck that it had taken to descend. We reached the top, and I saw what had everyone terrified.

In the starry darkness outside the air bubble, the Red Herring swam back and forth, hugging the rim.

The automatons were no longer confused. Puppeteers took precedence over internal discipline. I couldn’t blame them, even if Juliet and the Red Herring were actually harmless. Giant red hard-shelled one-eyed space catfish? Definitely scary, especially ten feet from the edge of their space station. In unison, every automaton on the deck said, “Noncombatants, take shelter in your homes. Militia, gather your weapons and report to the central staircase. Automatic security is being activated.”

I looked at Remmy. She shrugged, an awkward gesture with her fingers still pecking at the typewriter. “I could only give simple instructions. The automaton is controlling itself now. It can’t fire the station guns. Your ship is too close. I just hope nobody breaks the air bubble.”

Juliet must have seen us. The Red Herring twisted around, swimming out right into our path. A brief blast of wind roared around as it shoved its head into the circle of sunshine to lay atop the deck, presenting a gill slit to us.

Between us and the Red Herring, half a dozen trapdoors opened. More mecha like the one we were riding rose up into the gaps.

Oh, criminy. No. I wasn’t going to panic. I pointed past Remmy at the Red Herring. “Keep charging. They don’t care about us, and the ship is tough. We’ll get on board and head for Europa. Calvin can meet us there.”

A high-pitched bleep signaled an automaton’s voice speaking over the siren. “A Conqueror has been sighted in the invasion force. Militia leaders, remember that Conquerors and Puppeteers will fight each other before attacking us, and act accordingly.”

Double criminy. Did they mean Vera?

The other mecha all lurched around to face us. Yikes! They meant Vera, alright! Metal and pavement screeched, and I fell over backwards. No, our mecha had fallen over. Remmy had tipped it up.

I found out why two seconds later, as loud hisses announced projectiles hitting the other side of the walker. Little globs of white shot over and past us, like a very enthusiastic spitting contest, except for the part where when the globs hit the ground, they flared with white fire it hurt to look at. Two benches and an automaton’s hutch had already caught fire.

“This is more like a normal supervillain heist!” Ray shouted to Remmy, hunched up against our metal shield.

He was right, except for the part where back on Earth, hardly anybody tried to kill us. I didn’t think my jumpsuit was heat resistant enough to protect me from those flares. What they would do to my friends I didn’t want to imagine. That left out the other weapon. I couldn’t hear it, or see any projectiles, but spots on the pavement cracked and shot up shards every few seconds. Our mechanical shield rang twice, which might have been hits from that weapon.

“Vera can clear our path,” Claire suggested.

Her words fit a puzzle piece together in my head, and I yelped, “No! Those are anti-Conqueror sonic weapons!” What a mad science carnival I’d landed in. I almost missed bullets. Check that, I completely missed bullets. Vera could have sucked the juice out of all the gunpowder in this station.

“Aaaaand cue,” said Ray. I didn’t get the joke, until I felt squirming pressure at my waist. The excitement had woken up the control squid. It leaped out of my belt pouch, but Ray was ready for it and grabbed it in mid-air. A dozen tiny eyes I’d never noticed before sparkled white with eagerness for a new host.

I gave it a, “Sleep!” command from Archimedes, and grabbed for Vera. She was our best weapon for getting out of here, but I couldn’t let her get killed by weirdo weapons designed just for her. I would turn her off, and we would figure out something else.