Switching back into Dreadnought, Kevin walked around to the front of the plane and reached up with both arms to grasp one of the blades. . . . And something sent him sprawling face down in the dirt.
He rolled over and looked up, bewildered. A head the size of a car was staring down at him, its mouth gaping and showing saber fangs. Next-door’s tabby was still there. . . . Kevin sat up, started to rise, and a giant paw knocked him flat again. This could go on for hours, he realized fearfully.
Then a low, menacing growl came from the direction of the house. Kevin turned his head. Batcat had come out of the lab door and was contending its territory. The tabby backed and turned to face the new threat. Kevin scrambled to his feet, reached up again, and jerked the airscrew. It kicked, the engine coughed, but nothing happened. A quick change back to being Lancelot at the controls, an adjustment of the fuel line; then he was Dreadnought outside once more. Another try. . . .
A splutter . . . dying, then recovery. And the motor burst into a roar.
Quickly, switch back to being Lancelot. Hold the controls in that position, tight on the brake. Freeze!
Dreadnought again. Run back to the cabin, step up on the wheel, clamber aboard. Squeeze into the niche behind Lancelot’s seat—between the wings, preserving balance.
And then Lancelot yet again, one last time. Brake off, open throttle. Moving. . . . Picking up speed, getting bumpy. Hold that stick. Glimpse of the tabby streaking away between trees. Ease the stick back, gently. . . . Liftoff!
A tree opened out ahead. Kevin banked, made a climbing turn over the water, and came back with the house sailing by below. Harriet’s car was just turning into the driveway.
Stage One accomplished, Kevin told himself. But it was still just a start. The KJ-3 didn’t have the range to make it all the way to Neurodyne. And even if it could, there would be a dead zone where the mecs were out of range of the locally boosted signals from the house, but not yet close enough to the direct transmission from the lab. The only way, then, would be to hitch a ride.
He came around onto a course following the road eastward, in the direction of the I-5 Interstate leading to Tacoma.
“I’ve changed my mind. Can we go back, please?” Corfe said to the cab driver. They had gone about a mile, and both the police cars were out of sight.
“Pardon?”
“Can we turn around? I want to go back to Microbotics.”
The driver shrugged, exited at the 405 intersection and crossed over 520 to take the approach ramp back. Just as they rejoined the eastbound lane, the phone in Corfe’s jacket pocket beeped. It was Eric.
“Doug, what’s going on back there with Kevin? Do you know what he’s up to?”
The question took Corfe by surprise. “What? Er, I’m not sure what you mean. What about Kevin? What’s happened?”
“He’s at the firm, and in some kind of trouble. Where are you now?”
“I’m in the city,” Corfe answered vaguely. “What do you mean, some kind of trouble?”
“I’m not sure. But he’s been operating a mec somehow that’s appeared in the car here, and doesn’t seem able to decouple from the system for some reason. He’s insisting that I come back, so I’ve canceled out from the conference and am on my way. But now he isn’t responding at all, and I’m worried. Can you get down there and see what’s going on?”
Corfe was too confused to want to get into complicated questions and answers just at that instant. He needed time to think. “Sure. . . .” he mumbled. “Sure, Eric, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks very much, Doug. Sorry to impose, and all that. But I’m sure you understand. Call me back when you know anything, will you? Otherwise I’ll call you again when I’m a bit closer.”
“Sure,” Corfe said again. Eric hung up.
Corfe’s apprehension increased. He was still not even back at Microbotics, and when he got there he might not find it so easy to pick up the van. If he was spotted, there could be arguments, all kinds of trouble. Come to that, the van might not even be there. There was no guaranteeing that he would be able to get back to Tacoma before Eric at all. But if Kevin was in trouble, they couldn’t just leave him for hours. He racked his mind, thinking. . . . There was another possibility, he realized. He took the phone from his coat pocket again and called Hiroyuki’s house. Nakisha answered.