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She forced herself to breathe slowly, clenching her fists until the panic subsided.

  Finally she slid to the edge of the train once more and looked down, wishing for the hundredth time tonight that Moggle was hovering at her shoulder. But she had only her own eyes and brain.

  The inhuman figures still floated there, watching a procession of lifter drones glide from the tunnel door into the train. They carried chairs and wallscreens, food synthesizers and industrial water recyclers, countless garbage canisters. Even a full aquarium balanced between two lifters, the bubbler still rumbling, fish darting around unhappily inside.

  Someone was obviously moving out of the hidden tunnel space . . . but what were those metal things they’d moved in?

  At last, the train slid shut, and the air began to hum again. Dark strands wove across the opening in the tunnel wall, like a time-lapse of a spider building a web. Then rippling layers began to roll across them, until the gap was completely covered.

  “Smart matter,” whispered Miki beside her.

  As Aya nodded, the surface shivered one last time, then turned into a perfect imitation of stone. The flashlights flickered off, dropping the tunnel back into absolute darkness.

  “Come on,” Miki whispered, pulling her back toward the centerline of the train. Soon it shuddered into motion, and the wind began to swirl around them again. “We’ll be jumping off soon, and we can tell the others.”

  “But who were those people, Miki?” Aya said.

  “I think you mean, what were they?”

  “Yeah.” Aya lay there exhausted in the rumbling darkness, trying to replay in her mind what she’d seen. She needed time to think; she needed the city interface. And most of all, she needed Moggle.

  This story had just gotten much more complicated.

  RESCUE

  “You know, when I waterproofed Moggle, I didn’t think you’d ever need it.”

  “Sorry,” Aya sighed. She’d said “sorry” about a thousand times since meeting up with Ren this morning; even she had to admit it was getting old. “Um, I mean, it won’t happen again.”

  Ren dropped his gaze back to the motionless black water. “You still haven’t told me how it happened in the first place.”

  “They must have snuck up on Moggle. They used a lock-down clamp, I’m pretty sure.” Aya stepped to the front edge of her hoverboard, peering down. She wasn’t even certain if she had the right spot. Her memories of that night were all shadows and chaos, and now Ren’s hoverlamps were illuminating the underground reservoir with a cheery glow. Nothing matched the images in her mind. “They dropped it here, I think.”

  “They . . . the Sly Girls, you mean?”

  “Yes, Ren, they’re real. You just haven’t seen them because they don’t like kickers very much.” She pointed at the black surface. “Hence my hovercam under water.”

  He snorted, thumbs twiddling with the instrument in his hands, his eyescreens spinning. Ren made his own trick-boxes, gadgets that could talk to any machine in the city. “Well, they used a serious clamp. Moggle isn’t showing up at all: no city signal, no private feed, not even battery flicker.”

  Aya groaned, and the sound glanced across the still surface of the water, echoed off the ancient brick walls in a chorus of defeat. The reservoir was even bigger than she remembered, vast enough to store the whole rainy season. Finding one little hovercam down here would be impossible.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Well, us tech-heads have a saying: If you can’t use the kickest new technology, just use your eyes.” He fiddled with his gadget’s controls, and one of the little hoverlamps focused into a blinding spotlight straight down into the water. The hoverlamp flew toward Aya, sliding to a stop beside her, illuminating the depths of the reservoir.

  Aya eased her hoverboard down to the water’s surface and knelt to peer into its depths.

  “Whoa . . . we actually drink this stuff?”

  “They filter it first, Aya-chan.”

  The water was murky, speckled with suspended dirt and debris carried down by the storm drains. It smelled like damp earth and rotten leaves.

  “Does this light get any stronger?”

  “Maybe this will help.” He flicked his hand, and the hoverlamp descended until its nose broke the surface.

  The spotlight grew in intensity, and a half sphere of luminous water bloomed beneath Aya, as if she was hovering above an upside-down sunset in shades of green and brown.

  She could finally see the bottom of the reservoir: a fine layer of silt, twigs, and construction rubbish with a few spots of ancient brickwork showing through.

  But no Moggle.

  “Hmm, this might be the wrong spot.”

  “Too bad.” Ren lay back and stretched out on his hoverboard, staring at the arched ceiling. He raised his arms out in front of him, gesturing through the start-up sequence of some thumb-twitch game. “Let me know when you find the right one.”

  “But Ren-chan—”

  “See you later, cam-loser.”

  She started to protest again, but Ren’s eyescreens started blinking a full immersion pattern, his fingers flexing and twitching—he was deep in the game.

  Aya let out a sigh, stretching out facedown on her board, her chin resting on the front end. She let herself drift slowly across the water, peering down through the luminous muck.

  Ren had been right about one thing: This was definitely boring. Every time the hoverlamp obediently followed her, its nose rippled the surface, and Aya had to wait for the water to settle before she could see again. She spotted a few surprising bits of rubbish—a boomerang, the remains of a crumpled box kite, a broken warbody sword—but still no Moggle. She could see why Ren would rather play games than stare into the bottom of a garbage-filled lake.

  At least all her test scores yesterday had been aces, and her littlie-watching duty after lunch would build up the last few merits she needed for some black camo paint for Moggle.

  When this story finally kicked, she’d be famous enough to never worry about merit-grubbing again.

  As Aya peered into the underground lake’s mysterious depths, her thoughts returned to what she and Miki had seen last night. What was so secret that you had to hide it in a mountain? And why had those people looked so strange? Even the most serious surge-monkeys never bent their bodies that far out of shape.

  The Sly Girls were headed out again tonight to look for clues. Ren had given Aya a spy-cam the size of a shirt button, but it was only good for grainy close-ups. To capture the Girls in all their eye-kicking glory, Moggle had to be sneaking along behind.

  Down in the depths, a small silt-covered bump rose from the reservoir floor.

  “Moggle?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

  It was the perfect shape and size, like a soccer ball cut in half.

  “Hey, Ren,” she cried. “Ren!”

  His immersion blinker sputtered to a halt, the eyescreen glaze slipping from his face.

  “Moggle’s down there!”

  He stretched his arms, swinging his legs over the side of his hoverboard. “Great. Time for stage two, which is much more kick.”

  “Good. I was kind of getting bored.”

  He smiled. “Believe me, you won’t find this boring.”

  • • •

  Stage two turned out to involve a tank of compressed helium the size of a fire extinguisher, with a limp weather balloon hanging from its nozzle.

  Aya stared at the contraption. “I don’t get it.”

  Ren tossed her the tank, and Aya grunted under its weight. Her board dipped for a moment before the lifters compensated, smacking flat against the water.

  “Feel how heavy that is?” he said.

  “Um, yes.” Water trickled across the board’s riding surface, getting her grippy shoes wet.

  “That’s to solve your floating problem,” he explained.

  “I have a floating problem?”

  “Yes, Aya-chan: Like most people, you float,” he said. “It�
��s all that pesky air in your lungs. That tank’s heavy enough to carry you straight to the bottom.”

  She blinked. “Ren, wait a second . . . I like my floating problem. I like the air in my lungs! I’m not going down there!”

  He laughed. “How else are you going to get Moggle?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought maybe you’d make some sort of . . . little submarine?”

  “Like I don’t have better things to spend my merits on?” He pointed at the helium tank. “There’s a magnet on the bottom. Just balance the tank upright on top of Moggle, and it should stick.”

  “But how do I get back up? This thing weighs a ton!”

  “That’s the clever part: Just turn this.” He drifted closer and gave a valve on the tank a turn. It hissed for a second before he twisted it back. “The balloon fills up, and that carries you and Moggle back to the surface! Pretty kick, huh?”

  “Okay. But I can’t breathe helium. Where’s my underwater mask?” She looked at the open cargo compartment on his hoverboard.

  “Just hold your breath.”

  “Hold my breath?” Aya cried. “That’s your awesome tech-head solution?”

  Ren rolled his eyes. “The bottom’s only five or six meters down—like the deep end of a high-diving pool.”

  “Oh, thanks for bringing up high-diving, Ren. My favorite panic-making activity.” She frowned. “And it’s cold down there!”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Maybe next time you’ll think about that before you lose your hovercam.”

  Aya stared at Ren, realizing that Hiro must have put him up to this. If the two of them only knew how kick this story was, they’d understand why sacrificing Moggle had been worth it. But she couldn’t explain yet, not until she found out what was hidden in that mountain.

  “Fine.” She clutched the helium tank closer to herself, glaring down into the luminous water until she spotted Moggle again. “Anything else I need to know?”

  He smiled. “Just be careful, Aya-chan.”

  “Whatever.”

  She sucked in a deep breath . . . and jumped.

  The splash rumbled in her ears for a moment, but the weight of the tank carried her swiftly through the turbulence to the still waters deeper down. The hoverlamps glowed through her closed eyelids, and it was freezing cold.

  Her feet bumped against the reservoir floor, grippy shoes skidding for a moment on loose dirt. The heavy tank threatened to drag Aya to her knees, but she managed to stay upright.

  She opened her eyes. . . .

  Rotten leaves and twigs swirled around her head, a mini whirlwind thrown up by her landing. Depth had turned the light dull green, and spinning shadows danced across the reservoir floor.

  A flash caught her eye—one of the shiny stickers on Moggle’s cover, shimmering in the lamplight like the eye of some bottom-dwelling beast.

  She walked in slow motion toward the hovercam, feet skidding on the slippery bricks. Every step stirred up whirligigs of silt and slime, dark clouds billowing around her. Moggle almost disappeared among them.

  But there was no time to let the muck settle. Her heart was beginning to hammer against her rib cage, demanding more oxygen, and her fingers and toes were going numb in the freezing cold. The pressure of the water was dizzy-making, like two hands squeezed around her head.

  Squinting through the murk, she maneuvered the helium tank over Moggle and let it drop. The clank carried straight to Aya’s eardrums, a certain and final sound.

  She fumbled for the nozzle of the air tank, lungs screaming, heart pounding, but her frozen fingers managed to give it a twist. A rumbling filled the water, and the weather balloon began to expand.

  Aya let go and pushed away, shooting up from the reservoir floor. She kicked hard, propelling herself toward the blinding suns of the hoverlamps.

  With one last glance down, she saw the balloon growing, straining against the tank’s weight as it gained buoyancy. Slowly the whole contraption began to rise.

  Aya broke the surface gasping, sucking in welcome lungfuls of air.

  “You okay?” Ren was kneeling on his hoverboard.

  “It’s right behind me!” she sputtered, paddling water.

  The weather balloon exploded from the water, sending hoverlamps scattering in all directions. Momentum carried it up into the air, cascading water like the head of a breaching whale. Then it crashed back against the surface, splashing them once more before coming to a bobbing halt.

  “You actually did it!” Ren said.

  “What did you think?” she asked, twisting a crash bracelet with cold-numbed fingers. “That I was going to drown?”

  He shrugged. “I was expecting it to take a couple of tries.”

  The weather balloon was rising again, carried by its helium into the air. Moggle still clung to the bottom of the tank, dripping like a wet dog.

  Ren slid his board closer, reached out, and shut off the flow of helium.

  Aya pulled herself onto her hoverboard, shivering with cold.

  “I still can’t believe that worked,” Ren murmured.

  Aya coughed water into a fist. “Rope would have been simpler.”

  “Simpler?” Ren said. “That word’s not in the tech-head language.”

  “Just check if Moggle’s okay.”

  He chuckled, detaching the hovercam. As it fell into his hands, the balloon shot up to bounce against the ceiling. “Hey, did you know your lips are turning blue?”

  “Great.” Aya wrapped her arms around herself, trying to squeeze the water from her dorm uniform. She sat there shivering and watching Ren.

  He pulled the lock-down clamp from Moggle, his eyescreens flickering to life. “My waterproofing held! I’m a genius!”

  Aya let out a sigh of relief, which turned into a full-body shudder; her teeth were chattering now. She held herself tighter, promising never to sacrifice Moggle to a watery grave again.

  But she had a hovercam. This story was going to kick.

  RADICAL HONESTY

  Flying home to Akira Hall, Aya wondered if she was catching a bug.

  The sun was shining, but shivers kept rolling through her body. Last night had been so exhausting, and it didn’t help that her uniform was wet and covered with reservoir gunk.

  “Remind me to drink some meds when we get home.”

  Moggle flashed its night-lights, and Aya smiled. Even slimy and shivery cold, the world felt better with a hovercam flying beside her. All she needed now was a hot shower and things would be back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be after her midnight ride through the huge and brain-shifting wild. Everything looked so sedate here in the city.

  In the perfect weather, the parklands were crowded—parents out with littlies, an ugly baseball team playing against crumblies. The soccer fields beside Akira Hall were roped off for a bunch of littlies fighting a mech battle. They clanked around in robot warbodies, clobbering each other with plastic swords, shooting foam missiles and safety fireworks. It was all very silly—even the best mech players never got famous—but it still looked like fun.

  As she and Moggle skirted the soccer fields, a spinning war wheel escaped from the roped-off battle zone, bouncing past them into the trees. Moggle went after the trail of safety sparks, and Aya followed, laughing, descending to where it had rolled to a stop in the grass.

  Stepping from her board, she hefted the war wheel in her hands. It was sizzling harmlessly, the fireworks not yet expended.

  Aya grinned, turning back toward the battle and taking aim.

  “Watch this!”

  Her throw was clumsy, but as it flew through the air the war wheel sputtered back to life, gaining speed from its spinning jets of safety fire.

  It careened through the battle, hopping like a flat stone across water, and finally hit one of the mech warriors smack in the middle of his back. It was a clean kill, and his warbody went into wild death throes, flailing its arms and gushing sparks before crumpling to the ground. The littlie inside crawled
out and looked around in annoyance, trying to figure out who’d made the kill.

  Aya giggled at the lucky throw, stepping back onto her board. It felt as though fate was finally taking her side, and fame couldn’t be far away.

  “Good shot,” a voice said. “But not entirely rule-abiding.”

  She turned and finally saw a boy sitting cross-legged on a hoverboard, his shape concealed by the dappled shadows of the trees. He smiled a radiant smile.

  Frizz Mizuno, appearing out of nowhere again.

  “What are you . . . doing here?” she said softly.

  “I came to see you,” he said, bowing. “And when you weren’t home, I thought I’d watch the battle. I haven’t seen any mech combat since I turned sixteen. Which is very Prettytime of me—I used to love mechs.”

  Aya returned his bow, trying to imagine Frizz doing anything as face-missing as wearing a warbody. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was only a year older than she was.

  “Plus, I was hoping you’d come home,” he said. “It’s rather mysterious, turning off your locator. It makes you hard to find.”

  “Oh, I didn’t turn off my locator. I was just sort of . . . underground.”

  He frowned. “You don’t feel stalked, do you? I’d go away if you did.”

  “Um, no. I don’t feel stalked. Just sort of . . .”

  “Damp?” Frizz asked. “And covered with muck?”

  Her arms wrapped around her shoulders, as if that would hide her wet, bedraggled uniform. “Um, yes. Muck-covered.”

  “As looks go, it’s even more mysterious than your Reputation Bomber robe.”

  She stood there, trying to think of something to say, but it seemed as though the cold of the reservoir had leaked into her brain and frozen it. It didn’t help that Frizz’s eye-kicking gaze was raining down on her, tangling her tongue in her mouth. The bigness of her nose suddenly loomed in the bottom of her vision.

  “I was doing some . . . underwater rescue.”

  “Underwater and underground?” He nodded again. “That would explain wetness. And yet I’m still mystified.”

  Another shiver went through her; her head felt hot now. “Me too. I didn’t tell you my last name. How did you find me?”