Max

68

“WHAT ARE WE looking at?” Gazzy asked.

“I’m guessing… fish?” Iggy said, sounding bored.

“There’s a bunch of containers out on the ocean floor,” I explained to him. “Plus fish.”

“How deep are we?” Nudge asked, her nose pressed against the thick glass.

“Almost a thousand meters,” said Captain Perry. “More than three thousand feet. Not the deepest part of the ocean by any means but still deeper than most subs can go.”

“So they were counting on people not being likely to find it,” Fang said.

“Yes,” Brigid murmured, staring out the window.

“We’re moving in closer,” said Captain Perry.

“There’s writing on the containers,” I said.

“Shining lights on it now,” said Captain Perry.

This close, with the floodlights hitting them full on, we could see dim markings on the sides and tops of the barrels. Brigid’s radiation detector was practically in hysterics, and I wanted to say, “Okay! We get it! There’s radiation! Now shut up!”

“There are Chinese characters,” said John.

I looked at the barrels and saw they were also stenciled with English words. “It says, Danger, Keep Away.” I read slowly, peering through the water. “Property of the Chu Corporation. Huh. No surprise there. And they’re marked with some kind of yellow and black sign.”

“That’s the symbol for radioactive material,” said Brigid.

“Some of the containers’ lids are popped,” said Gazzy. “Like they’ve rusted open. I assume that’s an ‘uh-oh’ kind of thing.”

“I guess you were right about the radiation causing the monsters,” said Nudge.

“It hasn’t been proved yet,” said Brigid. “A scientist needs conclusive proof. But it does certainly look possible.”

“It’s all making sense now,” said John. “The Chu Corporation is dumping illegal radioactive material into the ocean. He created his army of robots to keep it hidden and protected. The CSM was doing a lot of work to bring ocean pollution to everyone’s notice, so we became a threat.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes, looking tired.

“Now what?” said Iggy. “Who you go

A quiet voice in the hallway outside said, “Ghostbusters!”

Captain Perry and John groaned. “That phrase is ruined forever,” said John.

“Well, let’s get back up to the surface,” I said briskly, trying not to sound too eager. Knowing I could breathe under water was comforting, but at this depth, if I went out of the sub, I’d be mushed flatter than a pancake in less than a second. “We can call the EPA or the CSM or the navy or whoever, and tell them where this stuff is.”

Not so easy, Max, said the Voice. It’s never that easy. You should know that.

Okay, who saw that coming? Be honest. Everyone but me?

“Uh-oh,” said Angel.

“Double uh-oh,” said Gazzy.

I rushed back to the window and looked out, cupping my hands around my eyes. The sea was moving. Wait – no, not the sea…

It was a wave of Mr. Chu’s weatherproof all-terrain assassins. There were hundreds of them, and they were rushing toward the sub.

It was battle time. Again.

69

CAPTAIN PERRY HIT the intercom. “Prepare for attack! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! We are at DEFCON one! Arm the torpedoes, and plot evasive action!”

There was a scurry of activity as men rushed to their battle stations.

The first M-Geeks hit the sides of the sub, and we all grabbed on to something. I happened to grab on to Fang. We couldn’t just go out into the water and fight them, not at this depth, with its crushing pressure. So if I was about to die a horrible watery death again, this time I didn’t want to go out alone. I wanted to be with Fang and the rest of the flock.

Alarms were sounding, people were shouting, and we heard the first clanging, grinding noises of the M-Geeks trying to breach the sub’s hull. (That’s fancy sailor talk for them trying to punch a hole in the boat’s side, so we would all drown.) This seems to be a glaringly obvious weakness of the whole submarine concept. I’m just saying.

“You kids stay here!” commanded Captain Perry, starting to head up to the control room.

“Um – if I might make a suggestion,” said Gazzy.

“No time, kid,” said the captain, half out the door.

“You should listen to this,” said Iggy firmly, and there was something determined about his face and sightless blue eyes that made the captain pause.

“What?” he asked tensely.

“This one time, when we were surrounded by M-Geeks, there was a storm coming, and we rigged a delayed-timer electricity booster,” Gazzy explained. “When lightning hit the rod, it was amplified, and we aimed it at the M-Geeks. They all, like, turned inside out, and fried. It was excellent.” He beamed at the memory, and he and Iggy slapped high fives.

“That was good thinking, son,” said the captain, “but I don’t see how that helps us now.”

“You’ve got torpedoes,” said Iggy, as if this made it all perfectly clear.

“Torpedoes are good at hitting a particular target,” said the captain. “These things are many smaller targets, and they’re in direct contact with our ship. We can’t do anything to them without harming ourselves.”

I groaned to myself as I recognized the exaggerated patience of a grown-up who can’t comprehend the fact that eight-year-old Gazzy and fourteen-year-old Iggy probably knew more about demolitions, detonators, and explosive devices than almost anyone else on earth.

“No, no,” said Iggy. “You take the detonator out, then wire it directly to the sub’s hull.”

“If you want to give it extra oomph, take the actual explosive stuff, like the ammonium nitrate stuff, and diffuse it throughout the water,” suggested Gazzy. “Then, when you electrify the metal hull, it’ll ignite and spread the damage out into the water, but not too far, and you’ll take out mostly M-Geeks, since I bet they probably scared off most fish in the area.”

Captain Perry just looked at Gazzy, and then at Iggy, and blinked a couple times.

“They’re really good at this,” I said, as the grinding and clanging got louder. “They like to… blow up things.”

“We know how to do it lots of different ways,” Gazzy said eagerly.

Captain Perry paused for a moment, then got on the intercom. “Lieutenant Youngville, report to the map room!” He turned back to us. “She’s our demolitions master.”

A moment later, a harried-looking young woman with short brown hair came in and saluted.

“At ease,” said Captain Perry. “Young man, explain your theory to Lieutenant Youngville. Fast.”

Gazzy did.

It took the lieutenant a minute to digest what Gazzy and Iggy said. Then she nodded slowly. “You’re a diabolical little pyro, aren’t you?” she asked Gazzy.

He blushed modestly.

“Let’s do this thing!” the lieutenant belled, ru

It was barely three minutes later when a huge flash! from outside lit our small room like lightning. It had seemed much longer – listening to the grinding, scraping sounds, wondering how quickly the M-Geeks would punch through. Then tiny, crackling lights skittered through the water. We waited anxiously.

Seconds later, there was a larger series of popping explosions as the torpedo’s powdered explosive drifted out into the water, where it was detonated by the electrical sparks still dancing around the metal hull of the sub. Gazzy crowed and held up his hand to slap high fives with the captain, who just looked at him.

“It’s like M-Geek popcorn,” Iggy said, as we heard a fast string of small booms, one after another, each accompanied by a flash of light.

“Yeah,” Gazzy chimed in excitedly. “It’s like an ignart!”

I was about to say that this was no time for fart jokes when the grinding metal sounds stopped abruptly.

“It seems to be working, sir,” reported Lieutenant Young-ville, poking her head into the map room. “The technique -”