Science Fair (38 page)

J.D. had just reached the workbench when the doorknob rattled. He whirled around.

“HELP!” shouted Toby.

“Quiet!” snarled J.D., taking a step toward Toby, realizing he should have gagged him as wel .

“Hel o?” Toby recognized Sternabite’s voice coming from the other side of the locked door.

“HE’S IN HERE!” shouted Toby, though his last word was garbled as J.D., moving swiftly, reached him and roughly wrapped duct tape around his head, covering his mouth.

“Make another sound,” he hissed into Toby’s ear, “and I wil bash your skul in.”

He turned back toward the workbench. The doorknob rattled as Sternabite tried it again. But the door was locked.

Sternabite had heard the fear in Toby’s voice. He gave the doorknob one last try, then reached into his pocket and pul ed out a smal box. He flipped it open. The thing inside looked, sort of, like a large spider: it was black, with eight metal ic legs. Sternabite cal ed it Charlotte.

Charlotte was a robot. Mostly, anyway. Sternabite had taken the two main nerve clusters from an actual spider—its “brain”—and implanted them in a computer microchip, which control ed Charlotte’s mechanical body. His theory was that the spider “brain”—which had amazing capabilities—could work together with the computer chip to form a new, enhanced creature that could be used to peform many tasks, including surveil ance and counterespionage.

Unfortunately, Charlotte stil had some bugs. Her spider brain and her computer brain didn’t always agree, so her behavior could be erratic. But Sternabite had brought her along anyway, on the hunch that she might come in handy. That hunch had been right: he needed her now.

“Charlotte,” said Sternabite. “Wake up.”

Two glowing red eye spots appeared, and Charlotte, with a
whir
, came to life, rising up on her eight legs. Sternabite moved the box next to the doorknob.

“Charlotte,” he said, “open.”

Charlotte scuttled onto the doorknob and slid a jointed leg into the keyhole. Locks were child’s play for Charlotte; in a second, the door was unlocked. Sternabite plucked Charlotte off the doorknob and tucked her into his pocket as he opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was Toby on the floor in the corner, hands behind his back, mouth gagged, his head bloody. Sternabite started toward him.

MMMPHH!
said Toby, pointing with his head. Sternabite looked and saw a man standing with his back to a workbench on which sat a laptop computer. The man was facing Sternabite. In his right hand he held a thick, black wand. A stun baton. He raised it, showing it to Sternabite.

“Eight hundred thousand volts,” he said. “If I touch you with this…”

“I know what it wil do,” said Sternabite.

“Yes,” said the man, with a hint of a smile. “I imagine you would know.”

Sternabite took a casual step forward. “So you’re the one who sent me those project plans,” he said. “Mr.…”

“My name is Prmkt,” said the man. “Although the students here cal me Janitor Dude. They think I’m a loser. This makes them easier to use.”

“You used
me
pretty wel , too,” said Sternabite, taking another step forward.

“Yes,” said Prmkt. “I was afraid you’d catch on sooner or later. I respect you. You’re a very intel igent man.”

“As are you, obviously,” said Sternabite, taking another step. “It’s a bril iant plan, using these kids, their parents…”

“I am intel igent enough to know what you are trying to do right now,” said Prmkt, thrusting the baton at Sternabite. “If you come any closer…”

“Charlotte,” said Sternabite.

Prmkt frowned.

“Attack,” said Sternabite.

It happened faster than Prmkt’s eyes—or any human eyes—could fol ow. Charlotte shot from Sternabite’s pocket and scuttled in a whirring blur to his forehead, from which she launched herself at Prmkt. She could jump thirty feet, so she easily shot across the five feet separating the two men. She hit Prmkt, as she was programmed to do, directly between his eyes, clinging to his face with needle-sharp legs. Prmkt reached up with both hands to claw at her and, in the process dropped the stun baton, which clattered to the floor and rol ed under the workbench.

Sternabite ran toward the bench, but Prmkt sensed the movement and managed to get in front of him. Sternabite ran into him, and the three of them—including Charlotte—fel to the floor. The two men wrestled for position, each trying to get to the baton and to keep the other at bay. Sternabite quickly noticed two things: one was that Prmkt was stronger than he was.

The other was that Charlotte was no longer clinging to Prmkt’s face. In fact, Sternabite didn’t see her at al .

“Charlotte!” he gasped. “Attack!”

Nothing.

Where was she?

In fact, Charlotte
was
attacking; she had simply chosen a new target. Her sophisticated robot sensors had detected an intruder, and her spider brain, overruling her computer brain, had decided that the new intruder was far more worthy of her attention. And so at the moment, as her creator struggled on the floor below, Charlotte was climbing up the wal . Stalking.

* * *

In the corner, Toby struggled to break free from the duct tape. He’d made no progress; Prmkt had bound him too tightly. As the two men rol ed around on the floor in front of him, grunting, Toby felt around behind himself, looking for something, anything, that might help. His fingers brushed against an oily rag. He shifted position so he could grab it. As he did, he felt a sharp pain in his butt, caused by…

Rollerblade Barbie.

Frantical y, Toby twisted his body until, with painful effort, he was able to pul the dol out of his pocket. Turning his head as far as he could in an effort to see behind his back, he pressed the dol ’s rol er wheels against the oily rag and then spun the flint wheel with his thumb. He saw a flash of sparks. He spun the wheel again.

He smel ed it, then saw it: gray smoke. Then he felt the heat.

Great, he thought. I just set myself on fire.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming as the rag caught fire, and flames singed his arms. But he also felt the tape weakening. He leaned forward and yanked with al his might—

once, then again, then…

Yes.
The burning tape parted. Toby lunged forward on the floor. Behind him, the burning rag ignited others. Flames shot up, and an acrid, bil owing smoke began to fil the utility room.

“Stop him!” shouted Sternabite. He’d lost the wrestling match; Prmkt had knocked him aside and was crawling toward the stun baton. Toby staggered to his feet and jumped onto Prmkt’s back, but the man was too strong for the boy. He flung Toby off, sending him crashing to the floor. In a second, Prmkt was on his feet. He had the baton in hand and was backing away toward the computer.

“No!” gasped Sternabite. He made a last desperate lunge toward Prmkt, who raised the baton and squeezed the trigger. Sternabite screamed, twitched violently, and fel to the floor with a sickening thud, unconscious. Prmkt whirled and aimed the stick at Toby, who was pul ing himself up, coughing in the dense, choking smoke.

“Stay back!” shouted Prmkt, thrusting the baton at Toby. He took another step toward the workbench.

Toby looked down at Sternabite’s limp body, then, through the thickening smoke, at Prmkt. He moved closer.

“I said stay back!” shouted Prmkt. He thrust the baton at Toby again and pul ed the trigger. Toby heard a
ZZZZZZZT
as it brushed his shirt. He jumped back.

One more step and Prmkt would reach the computer. He switched the baton to his left hand, to keep it between himself and Toby. Then he turned and reached his right hand out toward the ENTER key.

And then they both heard it, from directly above:

RIBBIT!

Prmkt looked up, an unfortunate move for him, because he caught the ful , moist force of Fester—not a lightweight frog—who had fal en directly on his face after wriggling through the vent from the heating duct above. Prmkt yelped and swiped at the frog with his right hand, stil keeping Toby at bay with the baton. Another
RIBBIT,
and Fester leaped off, which again was unfortunate for Prmkt, because a mil isecond later Fester was replaced by Charlotte, who was in hot pursuit of Fester. Charlotte landed hard on Prmkt’s face with al eight of her sharp talons in Ful Penetration Mode.

Prmkt screamed and reached for his face with both hands, including, of course, the one holding the baton. Toby saw his chance and lunged, managing to get hold of Prmkt’s left arm. Prmkt roared with rage and swung the baton down. His target was Toby, but with his vision mostly blocked by Charlotte, his aim was way off.

It was only at the last possible second, as he simultaneously knocked Charlotte loose and pul ed the trigger, that Prmkt saw where he was sending the 800,000 volts.

Directly into the computer.

There was a loud crackling sound as a bril iant flash of light shot from the end of the baton and across the keyboard. Sparks flew everywhere, and then smoke curled and rose from the laptop, joining the already-thick smoke fil ing the utility room. The screen flashed white and went black.

And then it started to rain.

Actual y, it was the fire sprinklers, which had been triggered by the smoke. For a moment, as the water cascaded down on them, neither Prmkt nor Toby moved. Toby stared at Prmkt, who was stil holding the baton. Prmkt stared at the smoking ruins of his plan to destroy America.

Then Prmkt turned toward Toby. Slowly, he raised the stun baton. Toby flinched, closing his eyes, waiting for the awful shock.…

Clunk

No shock came. Toby opened his eyes.

Prmkt had dropped the baton. In a daze of defeat, he turned away from Toby and slumped to the floor, his back against the wal . He sat there, unmoving, his eyes utterly blank, as sprinkler water cascaded down his face. Like the Janitor Dude of old.

Toby heard a groan. It was Sternabite, regaining consciousness. Toby went over and knelt next to him.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“No,” said Sternabite. He raised his head a little, blinking, looking around the room through the smoke and the drizzling water. His eyes fel on Prmkt, slumped against the wal . Then he looked up at Toby.

“What happened?” he asked.

Toby smiled.

“I think we won,” he said.

O
F ALL THE THINGS
that happened over the next month, the coolest, for Toby, was meeting the president. This happened at a ceremony in the White House Rose Garden honoring the group the news media had dubbed the “Hubble Heroes”: Toby, Tamara, Micah, and—to the president’s annoyance—Fester.

“I am NOT going to honor a frog,” the president had declared when his chief of staff briefed him on the ceremony.

“But, sir,” said the chief of staff, “the frog played a critical role in taking out the Krpsht agent. And it was almost kil ed by the robot attack spider. The Porter boy has been nursing it back to health, and he won’t come to the ceremony without it.”

“But it’s a
frog
,” said the president.

“It’s a
hero
frog, sir.”

The president sighed. He knew he didn’t real y have a choice; at the moment, the Hubble Heroes were a lot more popular than he was. They were huge, their names in every newscast, their faces on the cover of every magazine. Oprah had them on speed dial, and at least three movies were already in the works. They had been offered mil ions for endorsements, most notably from the manufacturers of Diet Coke and Mentos.

“Al right,” said the president. “The frog can come. But I’m not touching it.”

“I doubt the Porter boy would let you anyway, sir. He’s concerned about infection.”

The president shot his chief of staff a glare, then said, “What about whatshisname? The science genius?”

“Sternabite, sir. He declined the invitation to the ceremony.”

“Declined? Why? Is he stil worried about legal problems?”

When the science-fair plot details became public, there had been some discussion of prosecuting Sternabite for il egal y obtaining classified technology. But in light of his heroic efforts to stop Prmkt once he realized what was happening—not to mention his immense popularity as a Hubble Hero—the president had decided to grant Sternabite a pardon for any crimes he may have committed.

“No, sir, it’s not that,” said the chief of staff. “It’s a privacy issue. Sternabite has been besieged by offers from companies and investors who want to give him money for his inventions.”

“Doesn’t he want to be rich?”

“Apparently not, sir. He threw both Bil Gates and Steve Jobs out of his store. He used some kind of owl on them.”

“Owl?”

“Owl, sir. Anyway, he’s gone into seclusion now, and says he won’t be attending the ceremony. At least, not in person.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, sir, but those were his exact words. ‘At least, not in person.’ ”

As it turned out, Sternabite showed up as a hologram. One moment he wasn’t there, and the next moment he was standing next to the president and looking total y lifelike, except that when two freaked-out Secret Service agents tried to tackle him, they passed right through him.