Part 14 (1/2)

A blast s.h.i.+eld came down over the dome, completely shutting out our view. We were flying blind.

”Oops.”

He quickly hit the b.u.t.ton again, and the blast s.h.i.+eld lifted to reveal something huge, smooth, and silver filling our entire view. Quinn got the big picture before I did.

”The Hindenburg!”

I pulled up, feeling the g-forces pressing me deep into my seat. We came within inches of hitting the giant airs.h.i.+p.

”Why, of all things, is the Hindenburg here?” I searched my memory, but couldn't find a reason for that to be in my own personal brain-jam.

”It's on my Led Zep poster,” Quinn said. ”In case you haven't noticed, this is my ride too.” Now Quinn randomly hit b.u.t.tons on the control panel looking for weapons. Lights came on and off; the chairs reclined. Finally a multicolored laser blast shot out of the nose of our s.h.i.+p and blew Jefferson's face from Mount Rushmore.

”Got it!”

”Great! Now figure out how to aim it.”

He looked at me like I'd asked him to perform open heart surgery.

”Never mind. Just blow up stuff in our way.”

”I can do that.” He concentrated all his attention on the debris field, with his finger paused above the b.u.t.ton.

I pulled sharply to the right, trying to dodge Ca.s.sandra's blasts, but she scored a direct hit. Part of our dome bubbled and singed, but it didn't rupture.

She knows me! I thought. She knows every move I'll make and every direction I'll turn. I was too predictable. If I was going to pilot us through this, I had to fight every natural tendency I had. To outsmart Ca.s.sandra, I needed to become a master of wild, unpredictable behavior. Which meant. . .

”Quinn, I need your help.”

”You've got a plan?”

”My plan is not to have a plan. That's why I need your help.”

”You want me to fly, then?”

But that wouldn't work either. Ca.s.sandra would know right away. She'd be able to predict Quinn's moves as well as mine. The only way to outsmart her was to outsmart ourselves. So I told Quinn, ”We have to somehow do it together.”

I scanned the sky ahead of us.

”What are you looking for?”

”Something big to hide behind.”

”No,” said Quinn. ”Look for something small. We can knock it into her path.”

”What if we knock something big into her path?”

”If it's too big, we could blow up when we hit it.”

I smiled. She wouldn't expect that we'd risk that! We came around to see the Arc de Triomphe floating in our path in a slow off-center revolution. I turned toward it.

”We're crazy, you know?” said Quinn. I had to agree. And, you know, it felt good.

We smashed into the huge stone arch, sending it spinning away from us. It crushed our nose flat, but it also spun right into Ca.s.sandra's s.h.i.+p, which tumbled wildly off course. Her s.h.i.+p looked almost as dented as ours. In a few moments she had her vehicle under control again-but for once we were on the offensive.

”Blow it out of the sky!” Quinn said.

That was my first instinct too, but it would be too obvious. She'd have some sort of s.h.i.+eld against a direct attack. Instead, I singled out the nearest obstacle: the Statue of Liberty. Perhaps Miss Liberty would buy our freedom.

Quinn fired. Miss Liberty detonated, sending a rain of green-copper shrapnel into Ca.s.sandra's path. She hit the shrapnel field, and one of her engines began to smoke.

”I've got an idea,” said Quinn. ”Bring us around and head back for the Hindenburg, but don't make it obvious.”

Quinn had trusted me, so now I put my trust in him. I maneuvered in a wide arc, bobbing in and out of debris, making it appear that I was just trying to evade Ca.s.sandra's blasts. The airs.h.i.+p was the largest piece of debris in this brain-junkyard, and it wasn't hard to find again.

”Fly like we're going around it,” said Quinn. ”Like we're going to hide behind it.”

”We'll let her think she's catching up to us and-”

I didn't have to say the rest, because we both knew. Quinn and I were connected now, like we were when we were younger, when our differences didn't pull us apart, but made us complete.

Quinn looked behind us, keeping his eyes on Ca.s.sandra's s.h.i.+p, letting me know her position second by second. We bobbed and wove closer to the behemoth of an airs.h.i.+p, its taught silver fabric a pale lavender, reflecting the sparking violet heavens. As we rounded its belly Ca.s.sandra was right on our tail. Then suddenly I pulled up, tearing though the fabric of the airs.h.i.+p, smas.h.i.+ng through its support girders. The hydrogen gas ignited, and for an instant flames tried to engulf us, but then we came through the other side. Ca.s.sandra's s.h.i.+p got caught right in the heart of the blast. I brought us around to watch as flames consumed the Hindenburg. As the airs.h.i.+p burned down to its aluminum skeleton, Ca.s.sandra's crippled s.h.i.+p fell away from the wreckage, charred and smoking.

Quinn kept his hand near the weapon controls. ”She could be faking....”

So we watched. We saw an engine try to fire, then go dark. She was completely disabled, and although I'm sure she knew her way out of this ride, she could no longer attack us.

It should have been enough, but it wasn't. Besting her was not enough. We had to beat her-and that meant getting out of the ride. I took us away from the flaming ruins of the airs.h.i.+p and sped toward open s.p.a.ce. Before us a series of smaller objects dotted the sparking sky-hundreds of them, maybe thousands. It took a moment for me to realize what they were, and when I did, my heart sank. It was a minefield . . . of sorts.

”Are those . . . cars?” Quinn asked.

I nodded. ”Not just any old cars. They're Pintos. Every last one of them.”

It was a field of floating automobiles that stretched as far as the eye could see, and it was so dense, you couldn't even see beyond it.

”How hard do you have to ram a Pinto to make it blow up?” Quinn asked.

”I'm sure that here, they blow up on impact. And how much you wanna bet the only way out is on the other side?” I scanned the minefield, then turned to Quinn. ”Okay, what would you do?”

”I'd try to weave through them.”

”And I'd try to go around them.” I knew neither strategy would work. Going around would take too long, and weaving through, well, I wasn't that good of a pilot. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for a third choice. ”Close the blast s.h.i.+eld.”

”What? We won't be able to see!”

”Exactly.”