Chapter 1
His Own Two Feet
Parker’s Battle-Suit sprang from the service platform like a rock fired from a slingshot. He suddenly found himself soaring into the air. The white steel beams of the rafters were approaching his head. Parker put his hands out, hoping either to grab hold of a beam or at least prevent one smashing him square in the face.
He was slowing down. In the next moment, his stomach filled with the odd feeling of weightlessness. Then he was falling. Picking up speed. Heading straight for the polished floor of the hangar far, far below.
He had to do something. Think! Think! Think! In the Go-Boy simulator at Skycade, he was always jumping off cliffs and tall buildings, always falling from dizzying heights. What should I do? he asked himself. Ignite my thrusters and attempt to fly this thing? Or maybe . . . maybe . . . . What? CRASH! That’s what.
He continued falling and falling. He racked his brain for something, anything, resembling a solution.
The floor rushed up at him at excruciating speed, despite the inescapable feeling he had been falling an impossibly long time.
He remembered falling like this once before, before the nightmares began. He remembered being surrounded by blackness, unaware of the immovable earth rushing up at him. He remembered the funny feeling in his stomach. And the feeling of dread screaming at him from far, far away in a sleepy corner of his mind. He was about to be seriously hurt. Darkness surrounded him. Danger loomed below. He almost felt like he was flying.
And then, he stopped. No more falling. And no memory of striking the ground, of the impact, the pain, the injury. Just that he was safe. He found himself wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in the warmth of two strong arms. He looked up. He saw a face he could never forget: the face of his father smiling down at him, eyes brimming with worried tears. Parker felt his dad holding him tight and he never wanted to leave, never wanted to be far from the man holding him in his arms. Next to his dad, Parker saw the worried beauty of his mother. She pressed the phone hard to her ear as she explained her son’s injuries to the doctor. In his sleep, he’d rolled out of the top bunk of his bunk beds and fell to the floor. He struck his face against a plastic railroad car featuring a white beagle sleeping atop a red-roofed doghouse, smashing it to pieces.
A few weeks later, The Attack happened, and both his parents were taken, his mom right away, his dad later.
Parker snapped back to reality. The floor rushed up at him. He plummeted toward it. Strapped into a big, robotic, heavy metal object. The last memory he had of being with his mom and dad lingered in his mind. He remembered looking up into their faces, so filled with love. Love strangled and choked to death by the hands of a low and evil enemy, an enemy which even now could be gaining the upper hand on his dad.
Parker would never let it happen. He would find his dad. He would get there.
Parker looked closely at the concrete.
He would be the one to catch his dad this time.
Parker relaxed his body, readying himself to land on his own two feet.
He would be the one to exact the vengeance sought so desperately by his dad. He would pummel their enemies hard enough to drive them back to the steamy core of darkness, far below even the oldest primordial mud.
Inside the suit, Parker braced for an impact that never came. He felt like he’d jumped into a giant bowl of cotton candy. The instant Go-Boy’s massive black boots touched the concrete, he bent his knees and dropped into a three-point stance on both feet and one hand. He reached out with the powerful arm, the massive hand, the mighty fist of Go-Boy, and drove his fist down hard to cushion his impact and shatter the putrid faces of those who had taken away the one and only thing he’d always wanted: a family.
He landed in a crouch, the joints of the Battle-Suit absorbing the energy of his fall.
The boots of his Battle-Suit hit the shiny concrete, a metallic thud followed immediately by the sound of stone crumbling. He watched Go-Boy’s unstoppable fist strike the ground. Pulverized concrete erupted in a cloud of whitish-gray dust, engulfing him. He waited for the dust to settle, partly so he could see what was happening and partly to take a moment for a quick inventory of all pertinent body parts. Was he injured? He felt okay. There was no pain. Slowly, he stood up. Inside the cockpit, the Battle-Suit instrumentation looked like it had before. All systems were in the green.
Parker stood to his full height, which, in the Battle-Suit, looked to be nearly eight or even nine feet. He towered above all the grown-ups. The only ones with whom he looked eye-to-eye were the other kids in their Battle-Suits. He turned to face them. He rubbed his hands together, dusting off the concrete powder.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” said Bubba. “Did you guys see that? Is this guy good or what?”
Colby cupped his hands over his mouth, issued a scratchy voice like an old radio transmission and said, “That’s one small step for a dunce, one giant leap for a confederacy of dunces.”
General Ramsey stepped forward. “Thank you, Parker. I knew I could count on you to turn our first lesson into a drunken super-hero ho-down.”
Parker blinked in surprise at the General’s statement. “You said to take the sword from the stone.”
“I told you to carefully take one step off the platform, not to destroy the floor of my hangar.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that.” The once gleaming concrete was now a shallow crater of broken rubble beneath Parker’s massive robotic feet. “There’s a guy who lives across the hall from Bubba who’s a union leader or something. But I think he knows about cement, too. His last name’s Hoffa, isn’t it Bubba?”
“I can’t remember,” said Bubba, “You’ll have to ask my mom. That was a wicked landing, Park. Too cool.” Bubba beamed from inside his suit. “I wanna go next. But don’t worry, General, I’ll try to go easy on your floors.”
“Thank you, Bubba,” General Ramsey replied.
“Hey Sunny, watch this,” said Bubba.
“It’s a piece of pie,” said Royd. He stood on the service platform next to Bubba.
“‘Cake, piece of cake,’ ” Colby corrected. “‘Y’know, Chandra’d have kittens if he found out.’ ‘Yeah. But he isn’t gonna find out, is he?’ ‘Not from me. They could tear off my fingernails, I won’t talk.’ ‘My God, it’s full of stars.’”
“That’s right,” said Bubba, “a great big mouth-watering piece of double-Dutch chocolate cake.”
Parker watched Bubba raise one foot and step off the platform.
“One small step for a man,” said Igby.
“One giant leap for Fatty Arbuckle in a billion-dollar suit,” said Colby. “Besides, I already made that joke.”
Bubba lost his balance when the booted foot of his Battle-Suit hit the ground. He quickly brought his other leg down as well and steadied himself. He stood there easily, as if he’d stood up from his living room sofa. He took a couple steps closer to Parker, then stopped and looked back at Sunny and Colby. “Come on in, the water’s fine,” he called.
“Let’s dance,” said Colby. He and Sunny stepped off their platforms. They stumbled a bit as well, quickly steadied themselves, and soon stood comfortably.
Parker stepped out of the cement crater and walked his Go-Boy closer to Bubba and Igby. His first steps were a bit awkward, but within a few feet he felt more comfortable. He exchanged looks with the other kids as they faced one another for the first time in their new Battle-Suits.
“You know something, guys?” said Parker. “We might just pull this off.” He looked at each of them. They looked back at him, smiling a little, and he knew they dared to hope he was right.
“Whoa!” Sunny lost her balance and toppled over backwards, reaching out a desperate hand on her way down. Both Parker and Bubba reached for it. Only Bubba stood close enough to reach her. He grabbed the massive hand of her Battle-Suit in his. Bubba immediately lost his own balance and fell down next to Sunny, his suit clanking on the concrete.
??
?Then again,” said Colby, “we might all die a fiery death.”
General Ramsey strode over to them. “You kids quit playing around. Put your Battle-Suits back on their service platforms and get your butts downstairs to the Study hall. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“You mean we’re not going flying?” asked Parker.
“No, you are most definitely not going flying,” said General Ramsey. He had to look up at Parker inside his suit.
Colby walked closer and flanked General Ramsey opposite Parker. “You mean you let us get into our Battle-Suits and get all hot-and-bothered and you’re not even going to let us try them out?”
“There will be no flying today.” General Ramsey looked up at both of them. “Not until you’ve gotten enough hours in the sim to demonstrate proficiency in these craft. Then, and only then, will I even consider letting you go flying.”
“How long is that going to take?” asked Bubba. He squirmed around on the floor of the hangar, attempting to get up.
“That, Bubba, is entirely up to the five of you. When you demonstrate proficiency on the ground, you’ll be ready to take to the air.”
“‘First learn walk, then learn fly. Nature’s rule, Danielsan, not mine,’” said Colby. He almost sounded Japanese. “‘Wax on, wax off, breathe in, breathe out.’”
“Then let’s skip study hall and go straight to the simulator,” said Parker.
“Excuse me?” General Ramsey folded his arms across his chest and surveyed Parker.
Parker thought again about his parents, about the two military men who had come to see him yesterday, and steeled himself. He forced himself to stay calm and repeat his suggestion. “I said, let’s skip study hall and go straight to the simulator. If we prove we’ve got what it takes, we can go flying this afternoon.”
“Parker,” General Ramsey began, “I admire your enthusiasm, but—”
“You said you wanted us operational as soon as possible,” said Parker.
“That’s true, General,” said Dr. Seabrook.
“I vote for the simulator,” Bubba said from the floor. He lay still, the hands of his Battle-Suit clasped across its massive chest.
“First, this is not a democracy,” said General Ramsey, “there will not be any majority voting. Second, I run the show. I decide when you go to study hall, when you go into the simulator, and when you will be going flying. And third, I fully realize the sense of extreme urgency we all need to maintain during our time together. Extreme times call for extreme measures.”
“‘Danielsan, that not sound like you,’” said Colby.
General Ramsey ignored him. “Accordingly, if you feel you can cut the mustard in the simulator, and you can prove it, then I will have no problem allowing you all to take a test flight today.”
“Really?” asked Bubba.
“Yes, Bubba, really. But if it doesn’t go according to plan, you must each agree to do things my way. Agreed?” General Ramsey surveyed each of them and they nodded enthusiastically. Parker nodded as well when General Ramsey looked at him. “Fine. Let’s meet in the simulator. Good luck.”
We’re going to need it, thought Parker.
*** ***
Will Parker and his friends measure up to General Ramsey’s demands?
Will two weeks be enough time to prepare for their mission?
What happens if it’s not?
Read Book Four of THE GO-KIDS to find out!
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