Bring On the War Mice, Page 2

“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Parker. He stared at the elated General, whose enthusiasm had not waned during fifteen seconds of horrific silence.

  “No,” said the General, “I’m not kidding. The plan is simple. You hop in the Battle-Suit and go get Go-Boy Ultra.”

  “Me? By myself? You just said Go-Boy Ultra can fly circles around the One-Zero-One. Not to mention that stuff about being better armed. Forget it. I’m not doing that.”

  “Not just you,” said General Ramsey. “All of you! Even Igby. He’s been dying to get out and do some real flying for a change, instead of always in the simulator or stuck inside this hangar making itty-bitty test flights. We have five working Battle-Suits. One for each of you. They’ll require a bit of polishing, but they’re in excellent condition. And Igby and Dr. Seabrook finished this one this morning. It’s ready to go.” He motioned to the nearby suit. The team had yet to reassemble it and it looked far from being ready to go anywhere. “Well, it’s almost ready.”

  Parker sneaked a peak at the other kids. Their faces were blank. They seemed to be as much at a loss as was he.

  “Look, I know this is unexpected,” General Ramsey continued, “and again, I apologize. But when Go-Boy Ultra was stolen, we knew we had to do something. And do it fast. So I came up with a plan. The only way to catch the deadliest machine ever built is to use the second-deadliest machine ever built. That meant I needed a pilot. Who better than the person with the most experience flying a Go-Boy Battle-Suit? The star of the Go-Boy SV show and the movies . . . Colby Max!”

  Parker heard Colby puff up from eight feet away.

  “So we arranged to sort of borrow Colby for a bit.”

  “Borrow me?” asked Colby. “What am I? A library book? Besides I’d say it’s more like kidnapping.”

  “What are you yelling about?” asked Bubba. “Parker’s the one who got kidnapped. Not you.”

  “They meant to take me,” said Colby.

  “Meant schment, you big crybaby,” said Bubba. Colby glowered at him.

  “As I was saying,” General Ramsey cut in, “I had originally planned to use just one pilot, with Igby’s assistance, of course. But when I saw the four of you upstairs, I remembered the five original Go-Boy suits and Igby and Dr. Seabrook down here slaving away with the team. I knew I had the answer.”

  “If life hands you lemons,” declared Bubba, “make lemonade!”

  “‘Stop saying that!’” said Colby. He affected an English accent, “‘You seem a decent fellow; I hate to kill you.’ ‘You seem a decent fellow; I hate to die.’”

  General Ramsey waited for Colby to finish, then resumed. “The five of you will spend a couple weeks training, learning some procedural stuff to keep the Federal Aviation Administration off my back, get a crash course in aerodynamics and Battle-Suit configuration, then suit up and take down Dr. Red.”

  “Assuming he doesn’t kill us all,” said Parker.

  The ensuing silence pounded like a jackhammer.

  “Say we do somehow manage to survive,” said Parker, “what do we do once we’ve uh . . . you know?”

  “Neutralized him?” suggested the General.

  “Right. What do we do with Go-Boy Ultra?”

  “Ideally, you bring it home. It’s worth quite a pretty penny. Otherwise, destroy it. Don’t worry, this won’t be one of those political jobs where you’re forced to fight with one hand tied behind your back. There’ll be none of that ‘do-not-fire-until-fired-upon’ nonsense. When you get out there, you have a job to do. Then get back home in one piece. You’ll be authorized to accomplish the mission by any means necessary. The question, my friends, is if you’ll accept the mission.”

  General Ramsey’s last sentence hung in the air like the stench from a decaying carcass everyone knew to be in the room but was too polite to mention.

  “No way, Jose!” said Colby, finally breaking the silence.

  “That’s General Ramsey to you, son,” said a large technician sitting at the computer console.

  “That’s okay, Tupper,” said General Ramsey, “Colby is entitled to his opinion.”

  “That’s right,” said Colby. “And my opinion is that this is nuts.”

  “I love nuts,” said Bubba, “almonds and cashews. Especially smothered in chocolate.”

  “They have them upstairs in the Mess Hall,” said Igby. “Macadamia nuts, too. From Hawaii.”

  “Really?” asked Bubba. “Can we go up there?”

  “If you two are finished with your culinary pow-wow, would you mind putting a sock in it?” said General Ramsey. “We’re discussing matters of major international importance here. Global security, if you will.”

  “But General,” began Igby.

  “Zip it.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Igby. Igby suddenly bore the serious look adopted by Jim after admitting his carelessness with the photograph of Colby.

  “I won’t deny the element of risk inherent in the mission,” said General Ramsey.

  “The element of risk?” said Parker. “This whole place is crawling with risk. You’d be totally looney tunes to go up against Go-Boy Ultra. Even if there are five us. Like Colby said, it’s nuts.”

  “But Parker,” began General Ramsey.

  “This is going to be so much better than Skycade, huh, Parker?” said Bubba. Parker was virtually blinded by Bubba’s massive smile. “No orphanage. No crummy base housing. And no Maryland military school. We can stay together, just like we said. And we’ll be real pilots. Just like we always wanted.” Bubba’s energy was infectious.

  “You mean you’re actually going to do it?” exclaimed Colby.

  “Opportunities like this don’t come along very often, Mr. Max,” said Bubba.

  “Opportunities for suicide missions?” said Colby. “Forget it.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.

  Parker considered Colby’s statement. Everyone’s eyes were on him.

  “Sunny, what do you think?” asked Bubba. Parker thought he saw her blushing. He felt bad that all of a sudden she was on the spot.

  “I dunno,” she said, “I get scared riding the monorail back home.”

  “But Parker said you play Go-Boy with them at the arcade,” said Igby.

  “I do. But this is the real deal, like you guys said before.” She turned in her chair and surveyed the nearby Battle-Suit.

  “Are you afraid of flying? Afraid of heights?” asked General Ramsey.

  “No,” said Sunny, “not really. Whenever I get on an airplane, it occurs to me the plane could crash, but there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no sense in worrying about something over which you have no control. All the worrying in the world won’t change anything.”

  “Show me the man who’s added one single hour to his life through worrying,” said General Ramsey with a wry smile.

  “Luke, twelve-four,” said Bubba, and General Ramsey winked. “That’s one of my mom’s favorites.”

  “Besides,” said Sunny, “I know the airplane pilots want to make it in one piece. If they survive, so do I.”

  “Tough to argue with that logic,” said Igby. He smiled at Sunny. She smiled back. Parker didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it.

  “Then why do you close your eyes on the monorail?” asked Bubba.

  “Because,” said Sunny. She took a deep breath before she continued. “When I was a little girl, I was at a carnival one Saturday afternoon with my parents. It was upstate, not far from G.I.T., actually. My mom and I were in line for The Mouse, a small roller coaster. My mom loves roller coasters. At least, she used to, before my brother got killed. While we were standing in line, some people asked if they could go ahead of us, so they could ride with their friends. I didn’t want to let them go in front of us, but my mom said it was okay. Everyone was talking and laughing when the train pulled away and went up the hill. We watched as the people put their hands in the air. They were screaming and laughing as the train rushed down the hill, then back up again
and into the first turn. Then, just as it reached the turn, it jumped the tracks and broke through the wooden railing. I watched it fly off into the air. It did a nosedive, flipped over, and landed upside down in the parking lot. Everyone died. All I could think as I watched it happen was that if not for my mom, she and I would’ve been on that train. We would’ve died, too. I wish I would’ve closed my eyes when it happened. Then I wouldn’t know what it was like. Now, when I ride the monorail, I close my eyes. If something bad happens, I don’t want to watch.”

  “You never told me that,” said Parker.

  “Yeah, Sunny,” said Bubba, “how come you never said anything?”

  “It’s not the kind of thing you go around bragging about,” she said.

  “But still,” said Bubba, “if I’d known all that, I never woulda tried to make you ride up front with me and Parker.”

  “I know, Bubba,” said Sunny, “I know.” She looked across the aisle at Igby. “Are you sure the Battle-Suit is safe?”

  “Considering what it’s designed to do, it’s as safe as I can make it,” said Igby. “I designed it so I could be the one to fly it. Go-Boy Ultra is for grown-ups but the original Battle-Suit is built for kids. I’d be the dumbest genius ever if I invented something I couldn’t use myself. Naturally I wanted it to be as safe as possible. If anything goes wrong, the pilot interface will help you. If you get nervous, just relax and ask the F.M.S. for help. If you have an engine failure, there are redundant parachute systems which deploy automatically. And a standard Emergency Locator Transmitter to help us find you in case of an off-airport landing, like if you crash in the wilderness or something and have to eat tree bark and worms and weird berries and stuff.”

  “Sunny,” said General Ramsey, “that carnival ride was a temporary structure. Go-Boy is a half-billion-dollar piece of hardware. Igby’s made it virtually idiot-proof.”

  “Good thing,” said Bubba, looking exaggeratedly at Colby. Colby rolled his eyes.

  “But,” the General continued, “if you don’t think you can do this, no one here is going to force you.”

  “I didn’t say I can’t do it,” said Sunny. “I just don’t want to crash in a parking lot somewhere.”

  “Maybe Igby can write that into the software protocol,” said the General, “no crashing in parking lots.”

  “Consider it done,” said Igby.

  “Well?” asked Bubba.

  “Well what?” asked Sunny.

  “Are you in? Will you come flying with Parker and me?”

  Sunny smiled. “Sure, Bubba, I’ll come flying with you.”

  “Excellent!” said Bubba, clapping his hands.

  “I guess that just leaves you, Colby,” said Igby.

  “He already said to forget it,” said Bubba. “We’ll just have to go without him.”

  “Wait just a second,” said Colby. “Give me a chance to make some lemonade of my own out of these lemons the General dropped in my lap. General, are we going to be paid for our services?”

  “You mean the warm fuzzy feeling of helping your country isn’t enough?” asked General Ramsey.

  “There’s nothing warm and fuzzy about getting my butt shot off by Dr. Red. I’ve done autograph signings in hospitals for disabled veterans. I’ve seen the reality of combat: young, strong, healthy men and women with no legs or missing half their face. I’ve seen the sacrifice made in the name of national duty.”

  Parker couldn’t help but envision his dad, running down a dusty street somewhere, being blown up by a buried land mine.

  “I’m not saying duty isn’t important, because it is,” said Colby. “I’m just saying if I’m going to jump on this lunatic bandwagon, I expect to be paid for the ride.”

  “You’re thirteen years old,” said Bubba, “why do you need money?”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I am a celebrity,” Colby replied. “I’ve grown accustomed to a certain standard of living. Plus I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Acting may not be as important as defending the country, but it has its merit. Anyone who’s ever done it knows acting is a lot of work. If I’m going to give all that up to participate in some hair-brained secret mission, I expect compensation. A lot of it.” Colby turned from Bubba to General Ramsey. “Let’s be honest. You’re the ones who let Go-Boy Ultra slip through your fingers and now you need me – us – to clean up your mess for you. Don’t pretend that doesn’t put us in the driver’s seat, in a position to be demanding.” He looked around at the other kids. “Chances are good that at least some of us won’t survive this ‘mission’ as you call it, not if Go-Boy Ultra is as good as you say. If I’m going out on a suicide mission, then at least have the common courtesy to tell me that’s what it is. If we’re kamikaze, honor us as such.”

  “Comma-what?” said Bubba.

  “Kamikaze, Mr. Black,” said the General.

  “What’re they?” asked Parker. He didn’t like the notion of being described by a word he didn’t understand.

  “Pilots,” said Sunny. “In World War II, after America was attacked by the Empire of Japan, and both sides were fighting in the Pacific, Japanese pilots flew their fighter planes directly into U.S. warships. They turned themselves into human missiles. They took off from Japan knowing what they were going to do. Knowing they wouldn’t be coming home. They were honored by their commanders, by their families, by the people of Japan. Most of them were young, not even twenty years old. They were called kamikaze. In Japanese it means divine wind.”

  “That’s so fascinating and really sad,” said Colby, “but they still lost the war and the pilots were still dead.”

  For all the ceremony and honor accorded to young men volunteering to die for their country, Colby was right: dead is dead. Things had just gotten a lot more serious. Even Igby didn’t look so jovial.

  “I think Colby has a point,” said Sunny. “If something . . . bad . . . should happen, then at least our families will have something to show for it.”

  “Something besides an American flag folded into a triangle,” added Colby. General Ramsey stiffened.

  “Very well,” said the General. “I’ll see to it that accounts are set up for you and your families.”

  “Before we leave,” said Colby.

  “Of course,” said the General.

  “Does that mean you’re in?” asked Igby.

  Colby looked to General Ramsey. “General? Do we have a deal?”

  “As you wish,” said General Ramsey.

  “‘Princess . . . Butter-cup!’” said Colby. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. And I can get that in writing?” asked Colby.

  “By noon tomorrow,” said the General.

  “‘Mr. Silver, you just bought yourself a champion.’ I’m in,” said Colby. There was a noticeable, collective sigh in the room.

  “Now,” continued the General, “I believe there is just one more matter to attend to. Unless I am mistaken, each one of you has agreed to volunteer for this mission. Everyone, that is, except Parker.”

  Everyone looked at Parker. He felt their eyes drilling into him.

  “Park?” said Bubba quietly, clearly confused.

  Parker didn’t have the heart to meet the eyes of his friend.

  Chapter 3

  The Ends of the Earth