Copyright

Published in the United States of America by Katherine Tegen Books, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

Published simultaneously in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books, a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

TIMELESS: DIEGO AND THE RANGERS OF THE VASTLANTIC. Copyright © 2017 by Armand Baltazar. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

www.harpercollinschildrens.com

FIRST EDITION

Source ISBN: 9780008258955

Ebook Edition © September 2017 ISBN 9780008258962

Version: 2017-09-27

Dedication

For Dylan & Sharon Baltazar

and my friend

Kevyn Lee Wallace

Contents

1  Copyright

2  Dedication

3  Contents

4  Prologue

5  Part One: A World Remade Chapter One: A Dream of Flight Chapter Two: The Riberas of New Chicago Chapter Three: A Workshop of Wonders Chapter Four: Where Giants and Monsters Be Chapter Five: Serpents and Soldiers Chapter Six: Streets of Fire

6  Part Two: The Rangers of the Vastlantic Chapter Seven: Pirates and Stowaways Chapter Eight: Trials at Sea Chapter Nine: Those Who Help Themselves Chapter Ten: Maker’s Sight Chapter Eleven: There Be Dragons Chapter Twelve: The Magellan Chapter Thirteen: The Captain Chapter Fourteen: Diego and Lucy Chapter Fifteen: Monsters of Sea and Air Chapter Sixteen: Volcambria Chapter Seventeen: Turtles and Tactics Chapter Eighteen: An Oath Before the Storm Chapter Nineteen: What the World Can Be Chapter Twenty: Games of War and Jubilation

7  Part Three: Until It Turns No More Chapter Twenty-One: Where All Paths Lead Chapter Twenty-Two: The Battle at Yorktown Chapter Twenty-Three: Fury and Love Chapter Twenty-Four: Path and the Promise Chapter Twenty-Five: One Destiny Divided Chapter Twenty-Six: A Dream Changed

8  Epilogue

9  Acknowledgments

10  About the Author

11  Credits

12  About the Publisher

GuideCoverContentsChapter 1

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Prologue

Our world did not end the way you might expect. It wasn’t caused by any of the things you hear so much about today: the wars, the unrest, the changing climate. It wasn’t our arrogance, our pride, our selfishness. No, in the end, it was our creativity and brilliance. We thought we were making history by changing the future.

Turns out, we did both.

It came from beyond the stars, a cosmic event we could never have predicted, a rupturing of the space-time continuum that tore apart our entire existence. Not just our present, but our past, our future—everything that humans had been or would be. Gone. And what remained was a void, echoing with the faint whispers of a world that no longer existed.

But that was not the end.

Humankind was granted a second chance.

Out of the great silence, the earth was reborn, but like nothing we had ever fathomed. Dinosaurs roamed the great plains beside woolly mammoths and buffalo herds a million strong. Great steamships and ancient sailboats crossed the harbors among the legs of towering robots. The past, the present, the future—all thrown together. The continents reshaped, oceans re-formed, and mountains sculpted anew. This was the world after the Time Collision.

The hundred million or so humans who survived the cataclysm came from all points in time and found themselves scattered across the planet. The people of the civilized past were called Steam Timers, the people from the in-between times were called Mid Timers, and the people from the future came to be called the Elders. As these refugees from different eras struggled to survive in a dangerous world without order, conflict was inevitable. It was not long before this savage yet beautiful new landscape became a backdrop for war.

After years of fighting, the desperate people finally saw the pointlessness of hurting one another and realized they needed to work together. They declared an end to what came to be known as the Chronos War and grudgingly united to form governments, laws, and communities.

Their fragile peace allowed the surviving cities to rebuild and countries to be remade. Children were born, and the mysteries and wonders of this new world were explored.

But the darkness had not been vanquished. Despite all of humanity’s efforts, there were still those roaming the undiscovered wilds who would never submit to peace and order, and who would strike down anyone who stood between them and the power . . .

. . . to make the world their own.

CHAPTER ONE

A Dream of Flight

On the morning of his thirteenth birthday, Diego Ribera glimpsed his future in a dream. It was a dream he’d had before, one that he feared, and it always began with his father calling to him through darkness.

“Diego. We need more light.”

Santiago’s voice echoed through the vast workshop. He stood high on faded blue scaffolding among the enormous robots that ringed the room. He wielded a wrench the size of his arm, and was leaning dangerously far into the oily gears of a massive shoulder socket. The head, arms, and legs of the robot were spread around the floor in various stages of completion.

Diego sat on a stool, gazing at one of the robot’s enormous eyes perched on the center workbench. He’d been studying the geometric kinks of its iris. It functioned like a Mid-Time camera aperture. Diego imagined the steel plates sliding open in sequence like flower petals. He pictured the tiny pistons firing one by one, how they connected to the steam processors. He seemed to know how these mechanics would work, sensed their purpose. He wondered if this was how it felt to be his father.

Everyone in New Chicago called Santiago a genius: the greatest mind of the new age. He was a builder, an inventor, a visionary. Some had even called him a charlatan, claiming that his creations were so ingenious that there must be some kind of trickery or fraud at work, but those people had never seen Santiago when he was engrossed in his work.

“Diego, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry, Dad.” Diego slid off the stool.

All at once he was standing at one of the workshop’s towering windows.

Moved without moving.

I’m dreaming, Diego thought, though the awareness was fleeting. The edges of his vision swam in watery darkness.

He yanked the heavy curtains aside. Brilliant morning light spilled into the room.

“Is that enough?” Diego asked over his shoulder.

No answer.

“Dad?”

Diego turned. He found himself back in the middle of the room again. . . .

But Dad was gone. So was the robot he’d been working on. And all the others. No scaffolding, the workshop floor empty in all directions.

Except for the table where Diego had been sitting. The robot eye had also vanished, but now something far more interesting had appeared in its place, gleaming in the golden sunlight.

A gravity board.

Five feet long, made of alder wood, Kevlar, and chrome, and decorated in red and white stripes. The portable steam backpack and navigating gloves lay beside it. Of all his father’s wondrous inventions, the gravity boards were Diego’s favorite. He and his friend Petey had flown them around the workshop on many occasions.

And yet the sight of the board filled him with worry: he’d had this dream before.

The board always appeared right after Dad vanished.

There was danger here, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Diego.”

“Dad?” Diego peered into the shadows. But that hadn’t sounded like his father. “Who’s there?”

The disquiet grew in his belly. This may have been a dream, but his fear felt all too real.

He spied a silhouette in the dark space between two windows. The figure stepped into the morning light. Not his father. Shorter. A girl? It was hard to tell. She was wearing thick goggles and an aviator’s cap. She looked about his age.

“Who are you?” Diego asked.

The girl stood motionless. When she spoke again, her mouth didn’t move, her voice instead echoing in Diego’s mind:

Fly.

Then she vanished.

A gust of air.

Diego spun to see the girl leaping out the window.

“No, don’t!” Diego rushed over. He gazed down at the bustling street ten stories below, but the girl wasn’t lying broken on the train tracks, nor floating faceup in the canal. Instead, she was speeding away through the air, on a gravity board of her own.

Fly!

The voice burned between Diego’s temples. He had to move. Had to act.

Diego grabbed the gravity board from the bench. He slung the steam pack over his shoulders. The heaviness of the miniature brass boiler and pressure converter threw him off balance, but he got his feet under him and ran for the window. He slipped on the thick leather gloves—covered in dials and fastened to the pack by slim hoses. He attached the power gauge regulator, flicked switches, and heard the familiar hiss as the boiler cycled up—

And then he was leaping into the sky.

Wind swirled around him. Windows blurred by. Diego hurtled toward the street, but he held the board firm with both hands and slid it beneath his feet. He hit a switch on his gloves, activating the magnet locks, and his boots fastened into place. The busy sidewalks rushed toward him. He pressed hard with his feet, shifted his weight, the ground speeding closer. . . .

The steam turbine whined at full strength, the board dug into the air, and Diego shot forward into a glide, skimming above the shop awnings and the Steam-Time ladies’ high hats.

Diego finally breathed, his face bathed in the breeze. Yes! He felt a shimmering excitement as he soared through the air, a feeling he’d yearned for all his life, one he knew was in his blood.

He pressed the board against the wind, sweeping this way and that. The movements felt as natural as walking, but so much better.

He sped over New Chicago, its canals and train tracks clogged with the morning traffic of steamships and trolleys, its sidewalks crowded with topcoats, leather tunics, and fine capes, a world collided in color and sound, in the smell of horse droppings and engine grease, corn roasting on food carts, and the sea. Off in the distance, the exhaust clouds from the great steamships and harbor robots colored the sunrise gold.

He spotted the girl up ahead, knifing through the sky. He had to catch her before it was too late. Diego didn’t know why, just knew he had to. Something to do with time, he thought. It was always time, running forward and backward through this world, but in this dream . . .

Running out.

Diego was the wind. He was the sky. He felt light as air and knew this was all he’d ever wanted, just like his mom. To fly free.

He spied the girl again, arcing around the next corner. Diego cut the angle so hard that his shoulder glanced off the brick-building wall, but he also edged closer.

If he could reach her, he could pull the main hose on her steam pack and disable the board. He could guide her down to the canal, and then she would be safe.

Safe from what? Diego didn’t know.

They turned sharply into a wide plaza around City Hall. The building was a grand tower, a mix of Elder and Mid-Time architecture, the plaza a series of floating walkways over water, with fountains burbling in intricate patterns. Diego was surprised to find the plaza packed with people, a huge crowd. More and more were streaming in from all sides, every one of them gazing upward and pointing.

But the timbre of the crowd changed: their gasps shifted from awe to worry. Those who weren’t pointing to the sky were jostling one another, trying to leave.

Diego glanced around for his flying partner, but there was no sign of the girl. She had disappeared.

The shouts below turned to screams of terror. Panic. People knocking one another over to get away. Diego followed the pointing fingers to the great clock at the top of City Hall, gleaming in the morning sun.

At first, he thought that the clock must be broken, because the hands seemed to be missing. There were still earthquakes now and then, due to the new fault lines where the earth’s crust had re-fused, but that wasn’t it. The hands were still there; they were just spinning so fast that they had become a blur.

Spinning backward.

The sight made Diego’s vision swim. He had to bend down and grab the sides of the board to keep his balance.

When he did, he saw the empty plaza below. All those people. Gone.

There was no one in the nearby streets either, the tracks and canals vacant, no airships in the sky, no smoke from steamers in the harbor.

It was so quiet. Diego’s breathing echoed in his head. The only other sound was the humming of the clock hands.

Diego’s board began to vibrate. The buildings started to tremble. The clock hands suddenly froze, and the world seemed to halt. Even Diego, his breath caught in his throat, his board stuck in the air—

Then the world began to roar.

Diego raced away as fast as he could. Water and ash swirled behind him, coming closer. Boats and trolleys rocketed up in the air, thrown by the force of the blast. The sky went dark, clouds and dust all around, swallowing Diego. He lost sight of the sky, the buildings, and . . .

A voice drifted across an infinite wind, speaking a single word as if from a hundred miles away.

“Forward.”

CHAPTER TWO

The Riberas of New Chicago

Diego’s eyes flashed open, the vision of the crumbling city still fresh in his mind.

He blinked and saw a curve of metal overhead, dotted by rivets. The inside of his bed.

Diego breathed deep. It had only been a dream . . . a nightmare. He sat up on his elbows, careful not to bump his head inside the old propane tank that his dad had converted to look like a Mid-Time–era submarine. The bed had been a present for Diego’s eighth birthday. These days, his feet reached to the far end when he slept.

He looked around his room and saw that everything was as it always was.

Diego shivered. He’d pushed his blankets off during the dream. He reached for them but then noticed daylight through the windows. He glanced at the clock—would the hands be spinning backward? No, they were normal; of course they were. And it was time to get up.

Still, he lay back for a moment, crossing his arms. The image of everything exploding played across his mind. He knew it was a dream, but still. There had been that gravity board. Something he wanted more than anything else.

Diego swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching. He threw on cargo work pants and his favorite T-shirt: orange with bright white letters that spelled ATARI.

His eyes paused on the poster above his bed. It showed the skyline of Chicago the way it used to be. A long row of elegant buildings neatly arranged along the shore of a lake. The city that his father was from. Before the Time Collision. Diego was part of the first generation of children to be born in this new world. Everyone older had arrived here from some other time. Many people still identified themselves as being from those other eras, but not his parents. Though Santiago was a Mid Timer and his mother, Siobhan, was a Steam Timer, they thought of themselves simply as citizens of this new world.

“You are lucky,” Santiago had said once. “You are a child of the future. You will never be held back by the past.”

Santiago never talked about the Time Collision, or the Dark Years that followed. Some groups were still bitter about the war, but his focus was always on making this world better. Still, he had saved a few clippings from the newspapers right after the event. When Diego started learning about the Time Collision in school, Dad had given them to him. They were on the wall above his desk.

The biggest one was titled TIME COLLISION! The article below was interesting to read now: people had known so little in the years right after, when the Chronos War had erupted. The Steam Timers had fought the other-time cultures for control of the world, and for a while, people had become more dangerous than the dinosaurs.

A different article detailed a group of hunters standing over a spinosaurus; another, the vast woolly mammoth herds that lived north of the wild lands. And below there was one about the first explorations across the fantastically changed American landscape by the great explorer Bartholomew Roosevelt. Diego stepped onto the balcony outside his room. A cool, salty breeze greeted his face. It smelled like seaweed and diesel fuel. He gripped the railing and gazed out over the city. He wanted to make sure it still looked like it always had. One last assurance that his dream had been just that.

And sure enough, there was New Chicago, shimmering in the morning sun, looking as fixed and permanent as a city made of three different time periods could.

A ship’s horn blared. In the distance beyond the building tops, Diego spied the great heads and shoulders of massive, clanking robots toiling in the morning mist of the harbor. Once the cargo ships were tended to, these robots would make their way into the canals, their engineers patrolling the city for any signs of deterioration or disrepair from the salt water. The canals were once city streets, but they all lay beneath the waters of the Vastlantic, an ancient ocean that now covered a third of North America.

A bright blue robotic crane passed by Diego’s building, picking its way through the crowded canal like a spider on its eight spindly legs. Another smaller robot followed not far behind. It was yellow and sturdy, more like a bulldozer on legs but with two piston-powered arms instead of a giant shovel. It towed a barge loaded with steel beams.

The streets were clogged with people and vehicles from many eras. New Chicago was unique like that. In most parts of the world, the eras of time were uniform over vast geographic regions, and they lined up neatly against each other like slices of a pie. Here, the time regions were more like splinters in a cracked mirror. Some narrow and long, some short and trapezoidal, and they wove and crossed among one another. It made life more colorful and chaotic than in other places, and in some ways more dangerous, but compared to that skyline in the poster on his wall, Diego thought this version of Chicago seemed way more interesting.

The smell of bacon and eggs broke Diego out of these thoughts. He heard sizzling meat from inside. Then he remembered why they were having a bigger breakfast than normal.

It was Diego’s thirteenth birthday.

He hurried back inside and to the kitchen. Siobhan stood by the stove wearing her pilot’s jumpsuit, her thick red curls pulled back and held up with a blue chopstick. She dropped another strip of bacon into the sizzling pan just as the pressure gauge next to the stove dropped to zero. A shrill whistle burst from the gauge, and the stove went dead.

“Blimey,” Siobhan muttered. “There should be at least thirty minutes of power left on that blasted thing.”

“Try this one, Mom,” Diego said, unclipping the pressure gauge from his belt and handing it to her. “It should have three hours of burn on it.”

“Thank you, my darling birthday boy.” She hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead.

“Mom . . . ,” Diego said.

“What?” She smiled as she unscrewed the depleted gauge and affixed the new one, the stove snapping back to life. “Should I say ‘young man’ now instead of ‘boy’?”

“Just maybe not ‘darling,’” Diego said.

Siobhan sighed. Her face was ivory white and smooth, her eyes a striking gray blue. “Oh, you are getting older, aren’t you? And I think you grew another inch overnight.” She tapped his nose with her index finger. “Sit. You need to eat and get off to school. And don’t forget,” she added as Diego moved to the table, “you’re meeting Dad after school today at the Arlington Geothermal plant.”

“I know,” Diego said.

“You’re supposed to report to the ferry dock right after school. No messing around with Petey. Dad says that installing this new steam converter will take all afternoon.”

“I know,” Diego said. “Man, it would’ve been great if Dad could’ve built the power plant closer. The ferry ride is too long.”

“I think you could forgive him that one oversight,” Siobhan said. “This city has power, security, and prosperity because of your father.”

He knew how much his father had done for New Chicago: in the short years after the Time Collision, Santiago had designed and built the power plant and the perimeter wall protecting the territories, and created most of the robots that maintained and protected the city. “It’s just a long afternoon on my birthday.”

“Yes,” Siobhan said. “We’d been hoping to take you to the Signature Room at the 95th for dinner tonight, but this job is very important. If your father could have scheduled it for any other day, believe me, he would have. So there will be no more complaining in the ranks, boyo. Is that understood?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Diego said. He gave his mom a salute. Siobhan flew for the City Search and Rescue now, but she’d once been a decorated fighter pilot. She fought against the Aeternum, a group of marauders who frequently raided New Chicago and other coastal cities in the aftermath of the Chronos War, and her part in the decisive Battle of Dusable Harbor had made her a legend.

Heavy boots echoed down the hall.

“Good morning,” Santiago said. He was dressed for work. Though the title Chief Mechanical and Civil Engineer might sound like it required a suit, Santiago was not one to put on airs, never mind wash the engine grease from beneath his fingernails. He was happiest when he was right there among his crew, up to his elbows in machines.

He hung his heavy, weather-beaten satchel on the back of a chair and then filled a mug with coffee.

“Good morning, Santi.” Siobhan handed him a plate of food, and he leaned over to kiss her.

“You always look fetching and official in your uniform,” he said.

“I thank ya kindly,” Siobhan said, her words seeped in a light Irish lilt that always seemed stronger when she was either embarrassed or furious. “Turns out I got all fancied up for nothing. The whole fleet’s grounded. Colonel McGregor sent word that the batch of fuel they put into the squadron last night was bad.”

“Bad?” Santiago asked as he sat down. “How could that be?”

“Full of impurities,” Siobhan said. “So, instead of flying, we’re going to spend all day draining the tanks and flushing the fuel lines. It’s affected most of the navy ships, too. Nearly every vehicle at the base is out of commission.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Santiago said. “That’s odd, though. The Calumet refinery is usually so reliable. Did they say how it happened?”

“Not in the report I got,” Siobhan said.

Santiago frowned. “I’ll give them a call later this morning. If there’s a problem with one of the pumps, the sooner I can send a team the better.” After a bite of eggs, he glanced at Diego. “I heard you call her ‘Captain.’ You’ll be a captain yourself this afternoon.”

Diego smiled nervously. “And what will I be captain of?” he asked, thinking, Say a gravity board, say a gravity board. . . .

“Hah.” Santiago chuckled and ate his bacon. “The loader, of course, driving the big blue Centauri bot. This Goliath steam converter is a big deal. I hope you’re still up for it.”

“Oh,” Diego said. “Right. That bot is kinda tricky.”

“I’ve seen you handle it like a pro,” Santiago said.

“I’m not that good at it,” Diego said. “I mean, I guess when we’re installing pressure valves or something, but . . . maybe you should have Stan Angelino do it. He’s the top robot driver at Arlington.”

“Come on,” Santiago said. “You are my son. How could you help but be one of the best, someday maybe even the best?” Santiago rubbed the top of Diego’s head, messing up his hair. “This converter came to us all the way from London. The queen’s top steam propulsion designer and his son are here to help us install it. Stan is very good, but I need my top man on the job.”

Diego felt his cheeks burn.

“And besides,” Santiago said, “you’ve got to see this thing. It’s massive!”

Dad always sounded like a kid when he talked about work. He liked to say that it kept him young, though lately Diego had noticed the gray hair at his father’s temples and the occasional white whisker in his broad mustache.

But instead of smiling back, Diego stared down at his plate.

“What is it, Diego?”

“Well, I just don’t understand why Magistrate Huston thinks that we need some old-fashioned steam technology. First, there was the engineer from France with his revolutionary gas lamp systems, then that awful crude oil expert from Texas. Now we have to put up with some stuffy British guy?” Diego flashed a glance at his father. “I mean, you’re ten times the engineer that he is.”

Santiago sipped his coffee. “Sharing our technology helps strengthen our alliances. It’s my duty to help them, and this converter is the queen’s way of doing the same.” Santiago smiled. “There’s more to being chief engineer than gears and pistons. There’s also the workings of people. And sometimes they’re more complicated. You’ll have to learn that if you are ever going to take my place.”

Diego wished he hadn’t said anything. “I don’t know, Dad. . . .” He didn’t think he could ever take Santiago’s place. He didn’t know if he had that kind of greatness in him, and he didn’t want to see the disappointment in his father’s eyes if he didn’t.

“Listen,” Dad said. “I realize it’s not as exciting as taking your pilot’s test. But I need you.”

“I know,” Diego said.

“And someday when you finally turn thirteen and take that test, you’ll still be the youngest pilot in New Chicago.”

“Dad . . . ,” Diego muttered. He shoved a whole piece of bacon into his mouth.

“What is it?” Santiago asked.

“Today is my birthday.”

“Wait . . . today? But . . .” Santiago started counting on his fingers. “It can’t be. Today is Tuesday, yesterday was Monday. Before that it was Sunday, so today must be . . .”

Santiago’s face cracked, and he started to laugh.

“Dad!” Diego said.

“You’re horrible,” Siobhan said, punching Santiago’s shoulder lightly.

“Sorry,” Santiago said, grinning. “But I had you going.” He pulled a small package from his satchel and held it out. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. Here.”

This was not the size of a gravity board, but Diego pulled off the brown paper, revealing a small box wrapped in white paper, with a blue bow. There was a card attached.

To our young adventurer and son, Diego

Through this, may you see

A world of wonders hidden from most.

Love, Mom & Dad

He unwrapped the package.

“What is it?” Diego asked, raising the tube to his eye. Through the lens, he saw tiny broken fragments. They formed a fractured pattern of beautiful colored shapes.

“Now turn the other end,” his father instructed. Diego rotated the cylindrical collar at the front. The image began to move and change, forming new patterns even more beautiful than the last, the colors tumbling and rearranging.

“Wow,” Diego said.

Santiago smiled. “It’s a kaleidoscope. It has mirrors and bits of different-colored glass inside. That’s what creates those patterns when you rotate it.”

“It’s amazing,” Diego replied. He turned the device over in his hand.

“Don’t you like it?” Siobhan asked.

“Yeah, I mean—it’s awesome.” He tried to sound thankful, and he was just . . . Was this it? “Thanks, guys.”

“Never discount the potential in all things, no matter how humble their appearance,” Santiago said.

“Okay,” Diego said, doing his best to smile.

But his parents were still grinning.

“Santi,” Siobhan said, nearly cracking up. “Isn’t there something else?”

“Maybe.” Santiago’s eyes glinted mischievously.

Diego jumped. “Is it—”

“Hold your horses,” Dad said. “It’s still down in the workshop. I have a few last touches to do, but it will be ready by tonight.” He saw Diego’s face fall. “I think you can survive. Besides, we have lots to distract us between now and then. I . . .”

Santiago paused and looked at Diego curiously.

“What?” Diego asked. It was almost like Santiago was studying him. “Dad . . .”

“Sorry.” Santiago shook his head, like he was returning from a daydream. “You know what? On second thought, I tell you what: Why don’t we stop by the workshop before school?” He checked his watch. “There’s enough time if you eat fast. And then you can have that present now, after all.”

“Okay, cool.” Diego wolfed down his food.

“I’ll meet you at the front door,” Santiago said, gathering his belt and refilling his coffee mug.

Diego shoved in his last bites and jumped to his feet, still chewing.

“Bye, sweetie,” Siobhan said, kissing Diego’s head. “We’ll have cake tonight when you two get home.”

CHAPTER THREE

A Workshop of Wonders

Diego and Santiago rode the elevator down to the workshop. The elevator clacked and shimmied, its gears grinding. Like so many things, it had once run on electricity, but the Time Collision had made the earth’s magnetic field violently unstable. As a result, virtually nothing electric worked. Some simple devices worked with the help of Elder fuses but only in limited capacity and only for short amounts of time. Limited use of old-fashioned telegraph devices was the only form of long-distance communication. Anything that had used circuit boards needed to be resurrected using steam, hydraulics, limited diesel, and manual labor. The work that Santiago had pioneered, mixing Steam-Time and Mid-Time technologies, had been the key to rebuilding the world safely. He had replaced this elevator’s smooth plastic buttons with brass ones that triggered little pistons, which in turn connected to gear works. The elevator lowered with a rhythmic pumping of steam compressors. Like most things in the city, it smelled of machine oil.

The elevator lurched and clanged to a stop, the doors grinding open.

As they did, Diego felt an odd sensation in his head. The world swam slightly, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Santiago stepped out into the hall and glanced back at Diego.

“Diego, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just . . . I’m fine,” Diego said, following him out. He took a deep breath and felt normal again, but when he looked up, Santiago was still gazing at him oddly.

“Dad, what?”

Santiago shook his head. “You just looked green for a second. You sure you’re all right? It’s going to be a big job today. I’ll need your best effort.”

“It’s just driving a loader,” Diego said, walking beside Dad. “And I’m sure their steam converter is nowhere near as sophisticated as yours.”

“No,” Santiago agreed. “But its designer, George Emerson, is a tough nut to crack. Don’t take his attitude personally. He’s been here six months already, working on the retrofit, and the encounters I’ve had with him have been . . . less than pleasant. His son Georgie has been helping too, though, and he’s much nicer. Maybe you two will have something in common.”

“Maybe,” Diego said.

They walked down a high-ceilinged hall, their footsteps echoing on the long, warped boards.

“Hey, have you thought any more about what you want to do this summer?” Santiago asked.

“Nah,” Diego said. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Time’s getting short,” Dad said. “If you want to fly and service the planes with your mother at the air base, I’ll need to find an apprentice for the shop. And that will be hard, since I already have the best young engineer in New Chicago.”

Diego knew that if he looked up, he’d find Dad smiling proudly, so he kept his eyes on the floor. “I like working in the shop, Dad. It’s just . . .”

Santiago sighed. “I know. You love to fly. Besides, Mom should get a summer with you for once.” Santiago patted Diego’s shoulder. “She’s jealous of all the time we get together.”

“I could still come by in the evenings,” Diego said. “I mean, to check in on the robots and stuff.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I’d be glad for it. Whoever I find will no doubt need a lot of training.”

“Well, yeah, but then you’ll have someone around who can really help out, long term.”

Santiago shrugged. “Someone who will need things explained three times when you barely needed once.”

“That’s not true,” Diego said. “I wrecked that plasma torch last month, even though you showed me how to use it.”

“That plasma torch would be hard for even my most experienced men to operate.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

Santiago stopped and patted Diego’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I hear you. Flying sounds more exciting.”

Diego wasn’t sure that was what he was saying at all. And he hated this feeling that he was letting his father down, but also that Dad kept assuming Diego was a genius builder like he was. Actually, there was little chance he’d ever be the pilot that his mother was either. Both his parents cast tall shadows.

“You know working with Search and Rescue will be a lot more swabbing decks and windshields than flying patrols or performing rescues,” Dad said.

“I know.” Diego understood that what he most often pictured—spotting Aeternum scout ships, arcing through the air with his cannon rifles firing—was unrealistic for his summer.

A shrill bark echoed in the hallway.

“Hey, Daphne.” Diego bent, and the little orange-and-white Shiba Inu nearly jumped on his face. “Whoa, girl.” Diego wrestled the dog down and gave her a quick, furious scratch. “Nice to see you, too.”

He stopped at a large metal door on runners and twisted the big dials on its lock. The door hissed and began to grind open.

“Over here,” Santiago said. He stood by a large iron workbench, its faded red paint chipped and worn away. The sunlight bathed a black tarp covering something on the table.

“Now,” Santiago said, grinning like a kid. “Back to your birthday . . .” He whipped off the tarp.

There it was: a gravity board, the magnet-bottom boots, steam pack, and gloves beside it.

“Awesome,” Diego breathed. He gazed at the polished surface, at the fans and machinery. The design was so cool. Diego could barely keep himself from grabbing it and jumping headlong out the window.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey, you weren’t kidding . . . it’s not finished.”

“What do you mean, it’s nearly there . . . isn’t it?” Santiago asked, eyeing him.

Diego pointed to the board. “Well, the rear thruster and the mercury accelerator haven’t been installed yet.” It seemed obvious to Diego, but that was strange; he’d never really studied exactly how these boards worked. He’d been too concerned with how to fly them.

“I was going to finish it today and give it to you tonight,” Santiago said, stepping over to a bench by the wall. He returned with an armful of parts. “But maybe you should try to finish it yourself.” He placed the parts on the table.

“Me?” Diego said. “But I’ve never worked on one of these.”

“I think it will be different today.”

“Dad—”

“Diego. Try.” Santiago’s hand fell on his shoulder. “I want you to place your hands on the engine components and close your eyes.”

Diego glanced at his dad.

Santiago nodded at the parts. “I’m serious. Go ahead.”

Diego shrugged. “Okay . . . but this would probably go a lot faster if you did it.” He placed his hands over the cool metal pieces and closed his eyes.

“Now, try to see how the engine should be put together in your mind.”

“But I have no idea how—”

“Just try.”

Diego almost pointed out that birthday presents were a lot less fun when they were tests. Also, what if he couldn’t do it? He wanted to fly this thing today!

But even as he was wondering this, a strange thing began to happen in Diego’s mind. He saw flashes . . . images of the parts. Not just the parts, but how they fit together. It happened in bursts of white light against darkness. He focused on two pieces and saw them connect. Two more, now three. And not only that, he sensed their relationships, how the different pieces functioned together, how each gear, each material had a purpose.

Distantly, he felt his muscles working, his hands and arms moving, following the images in his mind. He lined up pieces, grabbed a screwdriver from the far end of the table, made a connection. . . .

It was like watching a movie about how to put the parts together, except that movie was playing inside his mind, almost like some part of him already knew. But how do I know this? he wondered.

The thought broke his concentration, and the images sank back into the darkness.

“Ow!” Diego felt a stinging sensation as he opened his eyes. He’d stabbed his thumb with the screwdriver. He hadn’t drawn blood, but there was a red indentation.

“What just happened?” Diego asked, looking up at Santiago. “I saw something, but I lost it.”

“Relax,” Santiago said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Concentrate on the pieces and try again. Clear your mind and think only about the build, and nothing else.”

Diego closed his eyes and focused harder. The flashes returned, showing him more. His hands moved faster, his brow starting to sweat. He finished the accelerator and moved to the motor, calibrated it, and finished the assembly.

I can’t believe this is happening, he thought. What is making this happen—

Just that simple thought seemed to snuff out the images again. Diego took a deep breath and concentrated again, but the images didn’t return. Come on. He tried to think of nothing else, to clear his mind and focus, but there were only distant impressions in the dark, like shapes through a fog.

Diego sighed and opened his eyes. “I lost it,” he said. The board was nearly complete. He stepped away from the bench, breathing hard. His brain felt stretched, his head tingly. He eyed the board. “Dad, what was that?”

“I’ll show you.” Santiago shut his eyes and reached to the parts. His fingers traced over the last small pieces, then fit them together to make a compression valve, which he placed in the motor. He flipped a switch, and the mercury accelerator purred to life. The board rose in front of them, hovering a foot off the table.

“How did you do that?”

“We did it,” Santiago said, “by seeing it and only it. There can be no other thoughts or feelings. Your total focus must be on the thing that you make.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Diego said, except it had made sense as it had been happening. “How is that possible?”

“First things first,” Santiago said. “Tell me this: Did you notice anything different about that engine as you were working?”

Diego was surprised to realize that he had. “You replaced the titanium mounts with destabilized aluminum alloy.”

“And why would I have done that?”

“Um . . . because it is lighter and more powerful,” Diego said. “So it will stay flexible under increased pressure without becoming brittle.” That made sense; Diego had heard his dad talk about things like alloy properties, but it wasn’t like he’d ever studied them.

“And that means . . . ?” Santiago probed.

“It means that I can make a near ninety-degree full-throttle turn while absorbing the violent vibrations that would normally tear the motor out.” Diego shook his head. “How do I . . . know all this? I’ve never even worked on a gravity board. I don’t—”

“But you do,” Santiago said. He put his arm around Diego. “You saw it, Diego, just like I knew you would. Because you are my son.”

“Dad, that doesn’t make sense.”

“But it does. There’s a reason why I can build the things I build, why I can see how to bring together the technologies of the different times in a way that very few can. I have a gift.”

“You’re really smart.”

“No, it’s more than that. I have a . . . power.”

“What, like a superpower?”

“Not exactly. But it is, was, unique to me.”

“Were you born with it?”

“No, it manifested in me after I came to this world. I was sixteen the first time I used it successfully; I was volunteering to help build a well for the Natives living in the western territories. The design I came up with, everyone claimed it was impossible. The Steam-Time engineers said it was a miracle or maybe witchcraft, but an old Algonquin shaman there called it something else . . . the Maker’s Sight.”

“A shaman,” Diego said, trying to fit all this into the nuts-and-bolts image he’d always had of his father. “The Maker’s Sight? And you’re the only one who has it?”

“Maybe not the only one. The shaman said that she’d seen this kind of thing before, but she wouldn’t speak of it further, except to warn me to keep the power secret. And I have, until today.”

“You knew I had it,” Diego said. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not until today. Your mother and I always suspected that you might inherit the Sight, but we were never quite sure.”

Diego peered up at his father. “Why today?”

“I can’t say. But this morning at breakfast I saw these flashes of light in my mind that tingled and burned. They reminded me of how I experienced the Sight, but they weren’t quite the same. In between each flash, I saw the gravity board. I suspected that the power had come alive in you, but I couldn’t be sure until we came down here. When you first gazed at the unfinished gravity board, I could feel the Maker’s Sight in you . . . around you, coming off you in waves.”

“So are you saying that it, like, runs in our family?”

“Yes, but it begins with me. Or, more precisely, with the Time Collision. Before that, I was just a normal boy. The Sight is just another way that the world was made new.”

“And it lets you build things.”

“It shows me a series of images that allow me to make or fix anything. Like what you just experienced, but to use it at the level I do requires supreme concentration, and it takes years to master. I am not certain that this is what the power is for, or even the only way to use it, but this is what I have chosen to do with it. In the world after the Collision, building and fixing things seemed like the best way for me to help the world.”

“So,” Diego said, “what am I supposed to do with it?”

“I’m not sure. It may be the same, or it may have a different purpose that is unique to you. You will figure that out as your Sight grows.”

Diego looked back at the board. If he could assemble the parts needed to construct the gravity board, what else could he make? “What’s the best thing you’ve used the Sight for?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I never really thought of it like that.”

“Come on,” Diego said. “Did you ever enhance the fighter planes, like with better engines or weapons? Or, like, what about robots that could seek out the Aeternum to defeat them once and for all?” Diego remembered the picture of his uncle Arden and his parents. “Then maybe Uncle Arden wouldn’t have died in the Battle of Dusable Harbor—”

“No,” Santiago said. He’d stiffened, his gaze lost in the table. “During the Dark Years, my first instinct was to build machines to match the violence around us, and to save lives. I saw so many terrible things in the Chronos War: Mid-Time towns gouged apart by Steam-Time cannon fire while their armies were laid waste by Mid-Time missiles, so much violence brought on by people’s hatred of each other’s time culture. But the thing was, there were so few humans left, a superior weapon might have ended the conflict, but it also would have caused unforgivable destruction, and I didn’t think humanity could survive it.

“I realized that to survive in this world, what we really needed was each other. Mid Timers and Elders needed the Steam Timers. And as much as they hated to admit it, Steam Timers needed us, too. The Steam Timers had technology that still worked, the Elders had their advanced science and medicine, and the Mid Timers could bridge the gap.

“Now, years later, this world faces an enemy more dangerous than we ever faced during the Chronos War. We can beat the Aeternum, but not through the creation of superior weapons. It must be through our prosperity and by making a stronger world. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of,” Diego said. “But just making the world more prosperous won’t stop the Aeternum, will it? Not like a better fighter plane. Why not show them how powerful you are? Then they would fear you.”

Santiago sighed. “In my experience, fear never leads to freedom. This was proved true all too often in the world before the Time Collision. Making the world more prosperous will rally the people to stand against those who’d take their future away from them.”

“Could you build defenses then? Instead of weapons. You know, like shields, or . . .”

“Diego, that’s not the point. I understand where you’re coming from, son, but the power has to be used carefully,” Santiago said. “There are those who would use it toward selfish ends, and still others who would fear what we can do and want to destroy us because of it.”

“Destroy us?” Diego repeated. “Who would want to do that? You mean like the True Believers?” The True Believers were Steam Timers who had become time supremacists. They wanted to form a society free of Mid-Time and Elder influence.

“Perhaps,” Santiago said. “By combining their technology with that of the Mid Timers and Elders, I do what they are sworn to stop. And we know how ruthless they can be.”

“There’s more of them around town now, too,” Diego said. “There are even Believer gangs at school these days.”

“Yes,” Santiago said. “That is why, for now, you must keep this power secret, as I have. For our safety, for our family’s safety.”

“But for how long?”

“Until the world evolves. We are still a civilization healing from a traumatic wound. Much of the hatred comes from people’s fears. They want to hold on to what little is left of what they know rather than embrace what they could learn.”

“Was your old time better than this one?” Diego asked.

“No,” Santiago said. “It was different: in some ways better but in other ways much worse, despite what the Believers say.”

They both fell silent. The din of the outside streets bled in through the walls. Diego gazed at the gravity board, trying to comprehend everything he’d just learned.

A rolling sound reached his ears, and Daphne barked.

“Heads-up!”

Diego turned as Petey Kowalski swept through the door on an old skateboard. He swerved to avoid Daphne, who hopped excitedly on two legs.

“Good girl,” Petey said. He bent down as he passed and tried to rub Daphne’s head, but lost his balance and stumbled off his board. He careened into the table, catching himself against the edge as the skateboard shot across the room and smacked into the far wall.

“Whoa!” Petey said, breathing hard. “Almost lost it.”

“Almost?” Diego said.

“Well, I mean, I was just—Oooh, no way!” Petey spied the gravity board.

“Birthday present,” Diego said.

“And we are going to ride it to school, right? Tell me we are going to ride it right now!” Petey exclaimed.

“The board is only safe for one rider,” Santiago said.

“Dad,” Diego said, “could we bring Mom’s board to school so that Petey and I could both ride during lunch?”

“Hmmm.” Santiago scratched his chin as if deep in thought. “You do deserve some birthday fun. Okay. If you promise to be careful with it, and if you clean up these tools before you leave.”

“Definitely!” Diego said.

“It’s not like you haven’t tried the boards out before.” A smile played at the corners of Santiago’s mouth.

“Um . . . ,” Diego said.

Santiago laughed. “It’s okay, son. You’re old enough now to pilot one yourself anyway.”

“Oh hey,” Petey said, “I ran into your mom on my way down. She’s looking for you, Mr. Ribera.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” Santiago gave Diego a meaningful glance and then patted him on the back and headed for the door. “Have a good day at school. Remember, the power plant. Don’t be late.”

“Right,” Diego said, knowing that glance had been about the Sight. Telling no one included Petey, which would be tough. “And thanks again!”

“Whoa, D, look at this, huh? This board is berries!” Petey ran his fingers over the smooth surface.

“It’s pretty great,” Diego agreed, gathering the tools scattered across the workbench and sliding them into drawers. “It flies real smooth.”

“I thought you just got it?”

“Oh, right,” Diego said. He’d been thinking about his dream. “I mean, I’m sure it’s going to.” He crossed the shop and started hanging tools in their correct places on the far wall.

“What’s this bot doing back here?” Petey’s voice was coming from a different spot. Diego turned to find that he’d climbed up into the cockpit of an eleven-foot-tall robot that Diego had nicknamed Marty. “I haven’t seen him since you built him last summer.”

“Yeah, with Dad’s help. Now be careful; he’s back in the shop for repairs.”

“Okay, sheesh, settle down.” Petey put his boots up on the controls and laced his fingers behind his head. “He’s fine, but not nearly as cool as Redford.”

“Yeah,” Diego said. “Redford came out great.”

“That still blows my mind,” Petey said as Diego coiled a hose from the floor. “You saw that old red tractor and turned it into a giant robot. Someday you’ll be even more talented than your old man.”

“Mmmm,” Diego said. “Actually, Marty could do circles around Redford, but yeah, Redford has the best origin story, for sure.” They’d discovered the tractor out past the perimeter wall, searching for parts in the northern wild lands.

“Yeah!” Petey agreed. “Hiking along, keeping our eyes peeled for Algonquin warriors. And then running into that dimetrodon. I’m still pinching myself to make sure we survived that! It was like being Bartholomew Roosevelt, or a mercenary explorer or something.”

“I know,” Diego said. Actually, it had been terrifying, but if Petey hadn’t walked across that angry giant reptile’s nest, they would’ve never run and hid in the pile of abandoned tractors where Diego had found Redford.

A horn sounded from out on the canal.

“Ah, shoot,” Petey said. “School bus boat!”

“We should go.” Diego yanked up the last of the hose and tossed it over on the bench.

“My mom’s going to kill me if I get another tardy.” Petey scrambled to sit up.

There was a shrill whine and a grinding of gears, and Marty lurched forward from his spot.

“Ahh! Sorry!” Petey cried. “I kicked something!”

“Petey! He hasn’t been properly oiled. . . .” Diego had barely moved when Marty took another lumbering step and then froze up in midstride.

“What did I do?” Petey said, throwing up his hands.

The robot lurched sideways and crashed over onto his back, shaking the whole building.

“I’m stuck!” Petey shouted.

Diego rounded the side of the bot. He reached the cockpit and tried to pull open the hatch, but it was jammed. Smoke poured from the seized-up gears.

“Petey, shut it down!” Diego shouted over the earsplitting hiss.

“What?” Petey shouted back.

Diego prodded at the cockpit, trying to point at the controls inside. “Shut it down! Right there! If those gears stay seized up much longer, they’ll be warped and ruined.” Not to mention cause a dangerous fire.

Petey inspected the controls. He placed his hand over a large yellow button. “This?”

“No, Petey! Not that—”

But Petey slammed his hand down.

“Jeez, Petey,” Diego said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Petey said, shaking his head.

Daphne barked, hopping away and nursing one leg.

Diego scrambled to his feet and hurried back to the robot. He leaned into the cockpit and hit the shut-down button. The leg stopped hissing.

Outside, the bus horn blared again.

“Aw, man,” Petey said. He rushed over to the window and peered out. “There it goes. What are we going to do? Boy, am I gonna get it!”

“Hold on,” Diego said. He glanced to the corner of the shop, where a small vehicle was covered by a tarp, and hurried to it. “How about this?”

He threw the cloth aside, revealing one of Diego’s favorite father-son creations: an orange-and-white 1960 BMW Isetta that had been converted into a submarine. Petey had even managed to build the periscope for it.

“The Goldfish!” Petey shouted. “Your dad won’t mind?”

“Nah,” Diego said. “It’s my birthday. And he definitely wouldn’t want me getting a detention for being late. I need to work with him this afternoon.”

“Great. But we still need to hurry,” Petey said.

“Yup.” Diego darted over to his father’s desk for the keys. “Ah, shoot.” Dad’s stuff was scattered everywhere. He was going to be so annoyed, but Diego did not have time to clean this up, too. He scoured the mess for the keys but couldn’t find them. Dropping to his knees, Diego looked under the desk, then finally spotted them under the propane tank.

Daphne hopped over beside him and started yipping excitedly.

“Not now, girl,” Diego said, “I’m busy.” He strained to reach the keys, but they were beyond his fingers. Crud, he thought, glancing around. I’ve got to get those keys! He grabbed a pencil off the desk and tried with that, each time to no avail. Have to get them—I just have to.

Daphne’s rapid panting became slow, even breaths, and then she darted forward, flattening herself and scooting under the tank. She slipped back out with the keys in her jaws.

“Whoa, good girl!” Diego said. He bent down and held out his hand. As Daphne dropped the keys onto his palm, Diego saw a strange, silvery glint in her eyes . . . but then Daphne trotted off, tail wagging, like nothing had happened.

“All right, Daphne!” Petey said, standing behind him.

Diego stood. He watched Daphne go, his head tingling, similar to the way it had after building the gravity board.

“What’s up, D?”

Diego shook his head. He figured he was still a little woozy from his experience with the Sight earlier. A ghost of a headache knocked at the back of his skull, and Marty throwing them across the room hadn’t helped. “Nothing,” he said.

“Come on, man,” Petey said. “We need to scramble.”

“Right.”

“Should I get your mom’s gravity board?” Petey asked.

“Nah, I’ll get it,” Diego said. “You’ve caused enough trouble.” He smiled and punched Petey in the arm, then hurried around the shop, putting a few more things away and grabbing the two boards.

Petey and Diego pushed the Goldfish into the freight elevator and rode to the ground floor. Petey sat in the passenger’s seat as Diego ignited the main boiler. The little car chugged to life. Diego hopped inside and jammed the control levers. The car rolled down the street-level dock and into the green water.

Horns sounded in the traffic-clogged canal as Diego veered among the slower paddle wheelers and faster boiler taxis while watching out for the tromping legs of robots. The little craft was barely visible to the larger ships, sitting just above the water as it did.

As the world bustled around them, Petey pulled an old Sony Walkman cassette player from the glove box and plugged in the cable from a simple set of speakers in the back.

“Which one of these do you like?” he said, flipping through a stack of plastic cassette cases. Petey handled these gingerly; in his house, he was used to music being played from delicate wax cylinders.

“That one,” Diego said, glancing over.

“The Replacements,” Petey said. “Which song?”

“‘Can’t Hardly Wait,’” Diego said. “It should be cued up.”

Petey slid in the tape, and the speakers burst to life.

“Your dad’s music is loud!” Petey shouted.

“That’s the best part about it!”

CHAPTER FOUR

Where Giants and Monsters Be

Diego surfaced beyond the public docks in front of their school. The Field Museum of Natural History loomed over its surrounding streets, a great stone building built back in 1893, sturdy enough to survive the Time Collision with only a few busted windows. With so many other structures destroyed, and with unknown seismic activity still lurking, the museum had been chosen to be the first primary and secondary school in the city. It still held most of its vast collection of artifacts and specimens, including skeletons of many giant creatures that had returned in the new world.

“Just in time!” Petey called, leaping out and tying off the ropes. “We should charge fares for getting kids to school in style. Diego and Petey’s Underwater Cab Service!”

Diego smiled. “Too bad there’s no room for more passengers.”

“The girls can sit on our laps!” Petey said. “Speaking of which . . .” He pointed toward a crowd gathered in front of school. “Get a load of this.”

Diego joined Petey at the edge of the crowd. Everyone watched as two girls skated on the stairs, grinding the rails. The crowd was a mix of times and culture, Steam Timers and Mids, even a few Elders here and there. A teen couple passed in front of them, an Elder boy and a Steam-Time girl, holding hands.

“Dating a Steam Timer would be swell,” Petey said, watching the couple wistfully.

“You’d never be able to handle all the proper manners,” Diego said.

“How do you know? Maybe I’ve been practicing on my own. Good day, m’lady,” he said, bowing like a gentleman.

“Hey.” Diego nudged him. “Not now.”

He nodded to the side of the crowd, where a group of older kids were catcalling at the Elder-Steam couple. The two hurried in the other direction, but not before enduring a barrage of insults. Diego recognized the boy at the center of the group, his fire-red hair springing from beneath a derby cap.

Petey slapped Diego on the shoulder. “Don’t pay him a nickel, D,” he said. “Come on, let’s get a closer look at this rumpus.”

“I should have guessed it was Paige Jordan,” Petey said as they watched. “She’s something, huh?” he said, leaning into Diego’s shoulder.

“She sure is,” Diego said, not talking about Paige.

“Uh-oh,” Petey said, noticing Diego’s stare. “Somebody’s got a doe in his headlights!”

The girl met his gaze, just as she was about to jump her board up onto the rail—

But the board hit wrong, and she crashed to the steps.

The crowd gasped. Paige hurried over to her.

“Girl, you know you’re gonna eat that rail if you pop your board up too soon,” Paige said, hands on her hips. But then she knelt down. “You all right?”

“Fine,” the girl muttered. Her eyes flashed to Diego again.

This time, Paige noticed, and when she saw that Diego was on the other end of that gaze, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, no way. You’re face-planting because of that boy? Get your head in the game, Lucy! He’s just some seventh-grade runt.”

A few in the crowd heard this and laughed in Diego’s direction. His cheeks burned.

“Hey . . . ,” Diego started, but Petey tugged on his arm.

“Settle down, D. You do not want to pick a fight with Paige Jordan.”

The school bell rang, and the crowd dispersed.

“Come on,” Petey said, pulling Diego along. He kept craning his neck, but he’d lost track of where the girl had gone. Lucy, Paige had said.

Petey and Diego were swept up by a group of their classmates. Everyone was chatting about the gossip of the day, but Diego barely paid attention.

“Hey, this way,” Petey said when Diego started toward their class. He saw that his classmates were heading the other way. “We’re touring the Ice Age exhibit today, remember? For science? Two hours less of class time.”

“Oh,” Diego said, catching up. “Right.”

“Uh-huh,” Petey said, grinning. “I know what’s got you distracted.”

They fought through crowds of lower-grade and high school students and visitors to the museum, finally catching up to the rest of the class as their teacher, Mr. Nelson, was taking attendance. “All right,” he said, “we’ll be joining the other upper-grade classes in the exhibit hall. Right this way.”

“Wait, hold on,” Petey said. He grabbed Diego by the shoulder and turned him toward Sue, the famous T. rex skeleton, a relic from before the Time Collision. “Is that the blond skater that was outside with Paige?”

“No way.” Diego saw that Lucy had traded in her skater clothes for a prim dress with a white collar and high boots, her hair tied back.

“Looks like your crush is actually a Steam Timer.” He punched Diego’s shoulder.

“Maybe,” Diego said. He couldn’t get over how different she looked.

“Come on, you’ve gotta say hi,” Petey said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Nah,” Diego said. “She probably won’t even talk to me.”

“Come on, D. Besides, she’s gorgeous. If you won’t, I will.”

Diego took a deep breath. “Okay, fine, but you’re coming with me.” He dragged Petey along by the arm and made his way around the back of their class, keeping out of Mr. Nelson’s sight.

Paige spotted them approaching and whispered to Lucy. They shared a laugh, and Diego wanted to die. Still, he wasn’t going to turn back now. He willed one foot in front of the next until they were right beside the girls, who were now acting more interested in Sue, as if Diego and Petey didn’t exist.

“Hey,” Diego said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What you want, North-sider?” Paige snapped.

Diego looked at Lucy. She eyed him curiously. “I’m Diego,” he said. “This is Petey. We just want to, um, welcome you to our school, and . . .”

Lucy smirked. “Are you the official Mid-Time welcoming committee?”

She had a thick accent, and it took Diego a second to decipher what she had said. “Oh, you’re from . . .” He was trying to place it. “Over there . . .”

“Over there?” Lucy said. “Indeed . . . if by ‘over there’ you mean across the Vastlantic. And how uninformed of you to think that you’re from here and we’re from there, as if one is superior to the other. If that were true, it would certainly be that there was here and here was there.”

“Wait,” Diego said. “I wasn’t, um, saying that. I just . . . your accent . . . it’s . . . Irish?”

The second he said it, Lucy’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, sorry, I mean Australian.” There was a more obvious spot he could have named, but it was like his brain was a steam compressor on the fritz.

“My manner of speech is neither from an island of peasant farmers nor one of criminals,” Lucy said.

“Hey,” Diego said. “Watch it. My mom’s from Ireland.”

Lucy made a face Diego couldn’t decipher. “Be that as it may,” she said, “for your information, Mid-Time American, I am a loyal subject of the true sovereign of the United Kingdom, Her Majesty Queen Victoria—”

That was it! England!

“And I’m not new to your school,” Lucy continued. “I was homeschooled when we first got here, but I’ve been here in your eighth grade for a few weeks now. And I will be for the rest of the semester while my father is in town on important business. Now why don’t you little boys go find some other tikes to play with.”

“We’re not little boys,” Diego said. “We’re both thirteen.”

“You sure act like little boys,” Paige said. “Now step off and go back to your playdate.” She and Lucy turned toward Sue.

“Come on,” Petey said. “Let’s go find some real girls to talk to.” He started to turn away.

But Diego stood his ground. There was something about this girl.

“Why are they still hanging around?” Paige said, her back to the boys.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Lucy said.

“Hey,” Diego heard himself blurt out. “You think that T. rex is so cool, maybe you’d like to see a real one.”

This made Lucy glance over her shoulder. “How’s that?”

“Well, my dad loaned the museum some equipment to help install their new T. rex exhibit, and when I helped deliver the loaders, I memorized the combination to the service entrance door. It’s here in the Ice Age hall. That new dinosaur’s got skin and everything. It looks alive.”

“D,” Petey said quietly by his shoulder. “We’re not supposed to leave our class. We’ll get in huge trouble if we’re caught, and our parents will kill us.”

“Well, then, we won’t get caught,” Diego said, shrugging. “Come on, Petey, where’s your sense of adventure?” He grinned at the girls.

Lucy and Paige shared a glance.

“We’re not going to let these North-side runts show us up, are we?” Paige said.

Diego was surprised to see uncertainty on Lucy’s face.

Paige leaned toward Lucy. “It’s not gonna bite.”

“It’s really cool,” Diego added. “Besides, you’ve got me and Petey to protect you.”

“Please,” Lucy said. “I don’t need a boy to take care of me.” She nodded and glanced at Paige. “Let’s humor them.” She took a deep breath as she said it.

Diego glanced back at their classes. “We should stay with our groups until we’re down the hall a little farther. Then watch for my signal.”

After what seemed like a never-ending lecture by Mr. Nelson, the classes split into four-person groups and were allowed to take in the rest of the exhibit on their own. Each student was given a small chalkboard to gather at least three interesting facts from the displays. The boys scribbled down as much as they could at the first exhibit about mammoths and then announced that they were headed for the restrooms, and set off to find Lucy and Paige.

They spotted Lucy with her school group over by an exhibit about glaciers. Paige was with hers by the mastodons. Diego nodded to each of them, then waited over by a diorama featuring Neanderthal hunters confronting a saber-toothed tiger.

“Those would be good friends for you two,” Paige said as she and Lucy arrived.

“Actually,” Petey said, waving his hand dismissively at the exhibit, “that’s not even close to what a real Neanderthal looks like.”

“Like you would know that, North-sider,” Paige said, one eyebrow raised.

“Actually, Petey and I have been out to the wild lands,” Diego said. “We’ve seen the Neanderthals firsthand.”

“Oh, really?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah,” Diego said. He didn’t add that technically they only thought they’d seen a Neanderthal tribe, from a far distance. At the time, they’d been running from that dimetrodon.

“You’ve actually been out to the wild lands?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah, right,” Paige said. “These two couldn’t even survive a walk in Cicero. There’s no way they’ve been out in the wild lands.”

“We’ve been there a few times,” Diego said. “And I’m not sure you could handle it.”

“Oh, I’m about to show you what I can handle,” Paige said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Hold on,” Lucy said, grabbing Paige’s arm. Diego noticed that her eyes had widened. “But aren’t there . . . dinosaurs out there? Like, real ones?”

“Oh yeah,” Petey said, “lots of different kinds. Man-eaters, giant herbivores that could squash you with a single step.”

“It’s not that bad,” Diego said, watching Lucy’s face as Petey went on. “They usually keep to themselves. It’s actually more dangerous if you cross into Algonquin lands without permission, or run into one of those Neanderthal hunting parties.”

“Yeah, right,” Paige said. “You two talk big. I bet you’ve never really been out there.”

“We have, too,” Diego said. “My dad leads salvage expeditions, and he takes us along to help.”

Paige opened her mouth to add more when snickering distracted them.

A group of boys lurked across the hall, with Joe Fish standing in the middle.

“Ugh, I thought I smelled Believers,” Petey said, but he kept his voice quiet enough that the gang wouldn’t hear.

“True Believers?” Lucy asked.

Just then, Fish blew her a kiss. His gang cracked up.

“They’re a lot of filthy hooligans,” Lucy said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Come on, y’all, we don’t need to waste time with them,” Paige said.

“You heard the ladies,” Petey said, catching up.

Diego started after them but paused and turned back to Fish.

Fish’s buddies laughed at this, too. Fish scowled at Diego and made a circular motion, with his finger pointing at the ground. Turn around and walk away. He then raised his thumb to his throat and made a long, slow, cutting motion.

It was all Diego could do to keep his cool. Not even two years ago, they’d been friends, and Fish had even come by the workshop sometimes. Now he was well on his way to being a Time-separatist thug.

“D,” Petey said from a few steps behind him. “Come on.”

Diego tried to swallow his anger. But before he turned away, he held up a hand to his ear, then with the other hand pretended to be turning up the volume dial on a radio. He moved his hand away from his ear and slowly raised his middle finger in time to the dial spinning.

Fish shoved his hands in his pockets, his face so red it looked like he might boil over.

“Why would you do that?” Petey asked as they hurried to catch the girls. “I really don’t want a busted jaw, or worse. You know those guys have roughed kids up, bad.”

“He needs to know that not everyone is afraid of him,” Diego said.

“But I am afraid of him,” Petey said. “I’m sore at him for turning on us as much as you are, but we can’t do anything about it.”

“They shouldn’t act like that toward a girl,” Diego said.

“You two speak for yourselves,” Paige said as they caught up. “Them hoods wouldn’t dare mess with me, or they know what they’d get.”

“Yes,” Lucy said, “we don’t need seventh-grade bodyguards, if you please. We can handle ourselves.”

“Fine,” Diego said.

Petey said, “There’s the service entrance.” He pointed to a door with a keypad lock. “Right, D?”

“Yeah.” Diego led them to the door. He punched in the code.

The door didn’t move.

“I thought you said you had this?” Paige asked. “Or is this just more of your bull?”

“No.” Diego typed in the code again. He’d gone over it in his head. This was definitely it.

Still nothing.

Lucy huffed. “What a bore.”

“Try it slower,” Petey said, “in case the buttons are sticking, or a number isn’t registering.” He gazed back over his shoulder. “But, you know, hurry. Mr. Nelson could come by any second.”

Diego typed the numbers again, and when the door still didn’t budge, he slammed it with his palm.

“Knew you were all talk,” Paige said.

“We should just head back,” Petey added.

“No, wait,” Diego said. “Just . . . hold on.” He closed his eyes and tried to block everything else out. He placed his hand on the keypad. Imagined only the door, the inner workings of the lock. How the keypad mechanism might work . . .

Images flashed in his mind: the pins of the lock, the gears that would twist them into the right shape, the connections to the keypad—

Diego’s fingers found the numbers flashing in his mind. He tapped them in.

A click. He opened his eyes and pushed the door. It yawned into the stairwell.

“Okay, let’s hurry.”

Diego stepped through the doorway, then looked back to find Petey, Lucy, and Paige staring at him.

“That was weird,” Lucy said. “What did you just do?”

“Nothing, I just had the numbers reversed in my head.”

“You did it with your eyes closed,” Paige said.

“I had to remember them from the other day. So are you coming or what?” He held the door and motioned for them to go by.

They filed through, and Diego pushed the door shut but paused. “Ah,” he said, studying the door controls.

“What is it?” Petey asked.

“There’s no lock on this side. We have to leave it open if we want to get back up this way.”

“But if someone notices the door open . . . ,” Lucy said.

“It will be fine,” Petey said. “Won’t it, D?”

“It’s no problem,” Diego said. He closed his eyes again, tried to clear everything and see the door. There had to be a way to make this work—

“This is what you call a plan?” Paige said.

The comment distracted him. Diego breathed deep, trying to shut out the world again.

“I knew this was rubbish,” Lucy said.

Diego lost it again. He spun around. “What are you all afraid of? No one comes down here during the day, and the door will look like it’s closed. I’m going anyway.” He brushed past them and started down the stairs, stopping after a few steps. He turned back to see the three looking from one to the other.

“I’m not letting him call me a coward,” Paige said. She took Lucy by the arm and started down the stairs.

Petey glanced at Diego, then shoved his hands in his pockets and followed.

“I feel like they’re watching us,” Lucy said, glancing from side to side.

Diego felt like there were eyes in the dark too, but Lucy sounded terrified. As if she thought one of these creatures would come alive and devour them all on the spot.

“Hang tough, girl,” Paige said, squeezing Lucy’s arm. “You got this. Remember, these things are dead and stuffed.”

Lucy nodded. “Of course they are.”

They passed through the hall and out into a wide rotunda. It was brighter in here, the morning sunlight casting angular beams through round windows in the domed ceiling. In the center of the room stood the giant T. rex.

“Say hello to Wendell,” Diego said.

“Whoa,” Paige said. “Now that’s a carnivore.”

“Largest tyrannosaurus ever recorded in the wild lands,” Petey said.

“He’s majestic,” Lucy said, but she stopped a few feet from the felt ropes that ringed the specimen.

Paige jumped right over them and stepped around one of the dinosaur’s thick legs. She moved under the creature’s chest, running her hand along its skin. “Wait, what,” she said, “this thing has feathers?” She brushed her fingers over soft, scalelike feathers around the creature’s leg. The pattern extended up around the underside of its neck.

“That’s going to be Wendell’s big surprise to the world,” Diego said. “She’s a species of T. rex never before seen.”

“She?” Lucy said. “But . . . her name’s Wendell.”

“She’s actually named after Wendy Dykstra,” Petey said, “the game warden who found the body out beyond the perimeter wall. She knew how important a specimen this was, so she hot-wired a class-four loader robot to get her over the wall before scavengers could.”

“But Wendell is a boy’s name,” Paige said.

“The museum wanted the dinosaur to have a boy name since the skeleton upstairs is Sue, so they changed Wendy to Wendell.”

“That’s how they reward her for her heroics?” Lucy said.

“There’s going to be a plaque by her that explains it,” Diego said. “Everyone will still know about her and what she did.”

“A plaque?” Lucy said. “Well, I guess the Time Collision didn’t change everything. It’s still a man’s world.”

“You got that right,” Paige said.

“Actually, Diego’s mom was part of it, too,” Petey said.

“Yeah,” Diego said, “she caught a glimpse of her on a training flight. She didn’t quite know what she’d seen, but she gave the coordinates to Wendy.”

“Your mom’s a pilot?” Lucy asked, turning away from Wendell. “Is she an explorer, or a bush pilot, or what?”

“She flies search and rescue for the air corps, but she used to be a fighter pilot. She fought against the Aeternum in their raids against New Chicago.”

“A famous fighter pilot,” Petey added.

“You—” Lucy’s mouth fell open. “You’re not talking about Siobhan Quinlan, are you? Not the famous fighter pilot, the hero of Dusable Harbor?”

Diego couldn’t help a wide grin. “Quinlan-Ribera now, but yeah. One and the same.”

“That’s—” Lucy shook her head. “Your mother is my hero. A woman who went well beyond her station in the Victorian world. But hold on . . . did you say Ribera? Like Santiago Ribera?” Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“No,” Diego said. “Those are my parents. What’s it to you?”

Lucy kept peering at him. “So . . . you’re saying that the fact that your mother is Siobhan Quinlan, my hero, and your father is Santiago Ribera . . . the purported genius engineer whose own steam converter was found wanting and had to be replaced by my father’s superior Goliath steam converter . . . you’re saying those two things are just coincidence?”

“What do you know about my father?” Diego said.

“Your father is the entire reason we’re here,” Lucy said. “It’s his inadequate steam converter that’s the reason I’m stuck in New Chicago for half a year. So that my father can save your city.”

“Wait,” Diego said. “You’re saying that your father is that Emerson guy my dad was talking about?”

“He’s not some guy; he’s George Emerson, the world’s preeminent steam engineer, who will be knighted by the queen herself, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, him,” Diego said. “We’re only using his old-fashioned steam tech out of pity.”

“Pity?” Lucy nearly shouted. “How dare you? My father is a genius. His converter design is superior to your city’s. Everyone says so.”

“Who’s everyone?” Diego said. “Everybody still living with gas lamps and locomotives? Maybe that’s nice by your standards, but you should open your eyes around town. My dad is a visionary.”

“How much of a visionary could he be if his son is such an arrogant fool?”

“You tell that wannabe,” Paige said.

“Okay, okay,” Petey said. “How about if we rejoin our classes before someone gets hurt?”

“Oh, I’d hate to miss that opportunity!”

The voice echoed out of the darkness. The four whirled toward the hallway they’d come from.

A match was struck, lighting four figures.

Fish sucked on his cigarette, the end glowing, as he and his gang stepped out of the shadows.

“Get out of here, Fish,” Diego said. He tried to sound tough, but his heart was racing. This wasn’t a public place like the exhibit hall.

“Can’t do that,” Fish said. He plucked his cigarette between two fingers and waved it in their direction. “Have to rescue the damsel.”

“What are you talking about?” Petey asked.

“It’s a classic tale, really. Damsel in distress and then along comes a hero and his mates.”

“That punk better not think he’s talking about me,” Paige muttered.

Fish scowled. “Not you, love. That one.” He pointed at Lucy.

“Oh, I’m in no need of a rescue, thank you very much,” Lucy said.

“Sure you are. Look at ya: led into associations with a Mid-Time colored girl and a half-breed clock mongrel.”

“Shut up, Fish!” Diego shouted. “What happened to you anyway?”

“I wised up.”

“Sounds like the opposite,” Petey said.

“You need to step off before you step in it,” Paige said.

Fish shook his head. “It’s like there’s this barking and yapping, but I can’t quite understand what it’s saying. Come on, damsel. Before things get ugly.”

“I think the ugly’s already here.” Paige slapped a fist into her palm and glared at Fish.

“Ooh,” Fish said. “I normally wouldn’t hit a lady, but you don’t count.”

“You’d do well to pay her mind,” Lucy said. “And just because I’m a Steam Timer doesn’t mean I’d want anything to do with you hooligans.”

“I see how it is.” Fish flicked his cigarette aside. “Tommy, Seamus: get Ribera and hold him down for me. Billy, grab the skater girl. She’ll be next. And make sure that Petey-boy sees stars!”

“Run!” Diego shouted. He curled his fingers into a fist as the boys advanced.

“Yeah, right!” Paige replied. She’d already dropped her backpack and skateboard. Billy was just reaching for her arm when she darted toward him, grabbed him by the forearm, and judo flipped him to the floor.

“Whoa!” Petey said.

The move made Fish and the others freeze for a second. Diego saw his chance. He lunged for Paige’s skateboard, grabbed it with tingling fingers, and slammed Fish across the face with it.

Fish crumpled to the floor, rolling back and forth, holding his nose and cursing. Tommy and Seamus rushed over to him.

“Okay, now we might want to run!” Lucy said.

“Let’s go!” Diego darted for the hallway, Petey, Lucy, and Paige right behind him.

When they reached the dark corridor, Diego glanced back and saw Billy staggering to his feet, the other two crouched beside Fish.

“Let’s keep moving,” Petey said. They hurried back to the stairs and up to the service door.

Diego shut it and then punched in the key code, but the lock didn’t engage.

“Are you sure it’s the same code to lock it?” Petey asked.

“Please tell me you thought to check that beforehand,” Lucy said.

“Nah, it’s the same,” Diego said. He had no idea. “Just gotta get it right.”

Footsteps thundered up the stairs from below.

“Hurry up!” Lucy said.

“I’m trying.” Diego glanced through the window and saw Tommy and Seamus coming. “Grab the door and hold it shut!” Diego shouted.

As they crowded around him and grabbed the handle, Diego closed his eyes again. Had to push everything out, had to focus. Just the door. Just the intricacies of that lock . . .

Fists pounded on the door, breaking his concentration.

“We . . . can’t . . . hold them!” Petey shouted.

Diego took a deep breath and held it. Sank into his head. Nothing but the lock. Flashes exploded in his mind. He let the visions reach his fingers, tapped at the keypad, and the lock slid shut.

“Mongrel!” Fish shouted, his face pressed against the window, steaming up the glass. Diego could see the blood dripping down his nose. “You’re gonna pay!”

Diego stepped back, panting, and offered Fish a wordless smile and shrug. Angry muffled shouts and thuds continued behind them as they stepped away.

Once they rounded the corner, they stopped to catch their breath.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Petey asked, gazing at Paige.

“One of our neighbors is a jujitsu master,” she said. “My brother . . . and I used to practice with him.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said, her breath still short. “For getting us out of trouble.”

“No problem,” Diego said.

“She meant me, fool,” Paige said. “You’re the one who got us in trouble.” She took her skateboard back from Diego. “You’re just lucky you’re so . . . lucky. And that I was there to bail you out.”

She and Lucy started across the hall.

“But . . . ,” Diego said, “you have to admit: not bad, right? For a couple of kids?”

“Whatever,” Paige said, not looking back.

Lucy glanced over her shoulder but didn’t say a word.

Diego and Petey wound their way through the Ice Age hall looking for their class.

“So?” Petey asked.

“So what?” Diego replied. “I wish I could’ve hit Fish again for what he said.”

“Ah, don’t listen to him,” Petey said. “Fish doesn’t know nothin’, and his people are ignorant. You just gotta ignore it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Diego said. “Clock mongrel.” The words made him clench his fists. The name was vicious and hateful. He wanted to believe that Joe didn’t really mean it deep down, that he was only imitating his father and his brothers. But Fish had changed.

“Well, you showed him. And you’ll show him again. But hey . . .” Petey draped an arm around his shoulders. “Besides, that’s not even what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“I meant, what do you think about Lucy?”

“Oh,” Diego said. “I’m trying not to.”

The school day passed in a blur. Diego and Petey decided not to fly the gravity boards at lunch, worried that Fish and his gang might be waiting for a chance at payback, and instead stayed in the cafeteria. Diego kept an eye out for them in the halls after lunch too, and also for Lucy.

After school, Petey drove the Goldfish, delivering Diego to the ferry station.

“What’s up?” Diego asked over a new cassette, this one by another of his dad’s favorite bands, U2. Petey had been quiet all day since the fight with Fish.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Come on,” Diego said. “Something’s bugging you.”

Petey grimaced. “I don’t know, D. You were kinda reckless this morning, that’s all.”

“What do you mean? Hitting Fish? Come on, he was going to pound us.”

“I know, but, like, before that. The way you taunted him? It’s like you were trying to pick a fight.”

“I wasn’t trying to. They were being jerks. They got what they deserved.”

Petey shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s your birthday, or if it was just having a couple of pretty girls around.”

“My birthday doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Diego said. “Come on, what’s so wrong with giving punks like Fish a bit of their own medicine?”

“You sound like Paige,” Petey said.

“Well, she knows how to stick up for herself.”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t want to spend the rest of the year having to watch my back. You know Fish won’t let it go.”

“Let him try,” Diego said.

“Great,” Petey muttered.

They were silent for the rest of the ride.

Diego hopped up onto the dock. A steady breeze whipped at his hair. Gulls circled overhead, making shrill calls. Diego looked out over the harbor and saw dark clouds on the horizon.

“Get her home safe, okay?” Diego said, slapping the side of the Goldfish. “Stay ahead of that storm.” He was second-guessing the idea of leaving such a prized invention, not to mention the pair of gravity boards in the trunk, in Petey’s not-always-sure hands, but he didn’t have time to get the Goldfish home and still make the ferry.

“Sure thing,” Petey said. “I got it. See ya tomorrow.”

As the Goldfish puttered off, Diego made his way through the crowds of people and cargo. Different languages tumbled over one another, and Diego caught a hundred smells: the sour sweat of livestock, the sweet burn of frying food, a burst of exotic spice, a flash of citrus.

He made his way between piles of crates and around break-dancers and a brigade of Napoleonic soldiers playing cards, carts heaped with furs. A band of Algonquin warriors inspected a caged beast: something like a rhinoceros but with three horns.

He boarded the hulking ferry as its horn sounded across the harbor.

CHAPTER FIVE

Serpents and Soldiers

“Diego!”

Diego was surprised to see a young man standing on the dock, waving in his direction. As he stepped down, he tentatively waved back.

The man smiled and put out his hand. “I’m George Emerson Jr., but you can call me Georgie. It’s great to finally meet you!”

Diego shook his hand, wondering if Georgie was going to be anything like his sister. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Splendid that our fathers get to join forces, wouldn’t you agree?” Georgie said as they crossed the busy platform.

“Pretty cool,” Diego said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing this retrofit completed,” Georgie said. “It’s been painstaking work out here, that’s for sure. But more interesting than hitting the books back in London. I hear they brought you in to drive the bot. You must be an ace operator.”

“I’m okay,” Diego said. This Georgie wasn’t half bad.

“I appreciate your modesty,” Georgie said. He lowered his voice. “But if you want my advice, don’t sell yourself short to my father. He can be tough to take, especially when he smells uncertainty.”

“Thanks,” Diego said. “Actually, I’m really good.”

Georgie patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

They reached the center of the open area, where George Emerson Sr. stood beside Santiago near a neat stack of eight large mechanical steam converters. Diego recognized his father’s work, now being replaced with the single Goliath converter that Emerson had designed.

“Careful with those pressure regulators,” George said curtly to two of Santiago’s workers. “And you there,” he barked, pointing at another man who was preparing the housing. “Do you even speak English? I said to scour that piping, not give it a massage.”

Diego was surprised to hear Emerson speaking to his father’s men that way. He watched Dad for a reaction, but Santiago only glanced up, then back at his clipboard.

“Hi, Dad,” Diego said.

“Oh hey, son.” Santiago rubbed his head. “George, this is Diego, our driver for today.”

George glanced over. “The prodigy, huh?” He gave Diego only a passing glance before returning to the clipboard. “You sure he’s up to this? It’s not a toy we’re installing.” His eyes flashed to the massive orange steam locomotive retrofitted with pistons and gears. “I would have preferred someone a bit more . . . qualified.”

Diego was about to stick up for himself when Santiago’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“Diego can handle it.”

Emerson lowered the clipboard, still frowning. “Only my top drivers in the Royal Engineering Corps are rated for a class-three loader. Has your boy completed any formal training?”

Diego glanced at his dad. Santiago’s lips pursed, but he breathed deep and spoke diplomatically. “I can assure you that your steam converter is in the best of hands.”

Come on, Dad, Diego thought. He wished Santiago would give this arrogant man a piece of his mind.

“Well . . . ,” George scoffed. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Your drivers wouldn’t have the first clue how to pilot that Centauri loader bot,” Diego blurted. “My father designed it specifically for this station. You have to know what you’re doing, handle it right. Tear the wrong thing out and you could blast us all to pieces.”

“How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent whelp!” George bellowed. “Mr. Ribera, if you can’t control your crew, I can pull my team and take my converter back home with me.”

Santiago’s hand closed around Diego’s arm. “My apologies, Mr. Emerson.” Santiago yanked Diego away, guiding him across the platform toward the foreman’s office.

Once the door had closed, Santiago threw up his hands. “Diego! What has gotten into you? Do you realize who you were talking to?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, “a real blowhard.”

“George Emerson is the chief technical officer of the—”

“I know who he is, Dad! But that doesn’t mean he can talk to you like he did! Why are you defending him? You’ve done more for New Chicago than he’s ever done for his home. Why do you let someone like him push you around? Why do we even have to use someone else’s stupid converter when yours are twice as good?”

“That may or may not be true,” Santiago said. “There is always something to be learned from cooperation and sharing ideas.”

“Not with him!” Diego said. “If I were chief engineer, there is no way I would accept being treated like that.”

“What else would you do if you were chief engineer?”

“After I sent Emerson home? I’d make machines that would prove how strong we are, a city to be respected.”

“You sound like you mean feared.”

“Well, what would be wrong with fearing us? If you showed Emerson what you could really do, he wouldn’t come in here acting like he does.”

“You would have us be mighty and strong,” Santiago said, shaking his head, “but the mightiest are also often the loneliest. We need each other to survive in this world, even the more . . . difficult people. I can’t believe that is all you have learned from me. You have a lot of growing up to do before you’ll be ready to be chief engineer. Maybe you’re not ready for the Maker’s Sight.”

“Maybe I’ll never be good enough to be chief engineer. I mean, have you ever asked me what I wanted?” Diego shouted. “And the Maker’s Sight—I didn’t ask for that either! Why would anyone want to have an ability that they’d have to hide from the world? I’m not you, and I don’t want to be!”

A silence passed between them.

Suddenly, the floor shook violently.

“What was that?” Diego asked as he regained his balance.

“Trouble,” Santiago said, peering out the window. He pushed Diego toward the door. “Back outside. Hurry!”

The two emerged from the foreman’s shack into the deafening wail of warning sirens.

Workers darted in all directions. The wind had kicked up, the sky to the west darkening with the approaching storm.

“What’s wrong with your plant now?” George thundered over the din.

“There’s nothing wrong with the plant!” Santiago replied.

Another explosion tore through the station from below, shaking the floors. Diego stumbled and fell to his knees.

Something shrieked above them.

“Look out!” Santiago called.

George threw himself backward as part of a venting tower crashed to the deck. “Ahh!”

Diego scrambled to his feet to see Georgie pinned beneath the wreckage, screaming in pain.

“Diego!” Santiago shouted as he raced to Georgie. “Get the Centauri bot!”

Diego sprinted across the deck, dodging fiery debris as it crashed around him. A giant piece of the cooling tank knifed into the deck just feet in front of him, forcing Diego to dive out of the way. He stumbled to get up, regaining his balance as another steel girder slammed into the deck.

Diego reached the Centauri bot, clambered up the side, and slung himself into the cockpit. He powered it on, and the diesel motor revved to life. Diego jammed the throttle, and the Centauri lurched forward. The robot took one huge step but stalled as Diego fumbled with the controls. He could operate this robot with his eyes closed usually, but nothing about this moment was usual. Diego watched Georgie struggling. No time to think. He eased the robot forward and moved quickly.

The Centauri reached Georgie after several thundering strides. George waved his hands in the air, pleading with Diego to hurry. But the robot’s pneumatic claws could crush Georgie like a gnat if Diego wasn’t precise. He maneuvered the claws like they were an extension of his own hands and clamped down on the beam, lifting it free and flinging the beam out of the way. As he spun the robot back around, Diego looked to the horizon.

“Dad!” Diego shouted. “Three warships! Headed this way!”

He pointed toward the horizon, and Santiago raced to a maintenance ladder, scrambling up until he could see.

Blinding flashes of light . . . whistling. Three more explosions shook the platform to its core.

A section of the scaffolding exploded. Diego heard a terrified scream and saw a worker throw himself off the side into the sea to escape the flames.

“It’s the Aeternum!” Santiago shouted, dropping back to the deck. He waved to Diego. “Get to the command center!”

Santiago and George bent to help raise Georgie to his feet. Getting his arms around their shoulders, they lurched across the damaged deck, making their way around flaming piles of debris.

Diego powered off the robot and risked a glimpse back to the sea before climbing down. The ships were closing fast, but their cannons had stopped. The water all around them roiled. Shining backs broke the surface, surging ahead of the ships. Flicking tails, whitecaps and wakes forming as if behind invisible vessels. Diego wondered if they were machines, but as they neared the platform he saw something much worse. Pointed snouts, the glint of massive jaws. Mosasaurs, the most fearsome predators of the Vastlantic.

The station shuddered, swaying to one side, then back in the other direction with the next hit. Violent plumes of ocean spray exploded into the sky. Diego struggled to hang on to the railing and Georgie as they stumbled to the command center.

“In here! Hurry!” A marine sergeant waved to them from the doorway.

Diego lunged through as a terrible shriek sounded. The walkway they’d just been standing on twisted and collapsed out of sight. The command center teetered, and, for a moment, it seemed like the whole thing would fall into the sea. But the support towers groaned and the room stopped, frozen at a steep angle.

Diego fell against the wall, catching his breath. A medic grabbed Georgie and laid him on the floor to assess his condition.

“What’s the situation, Captain?” Santiago called.

Captain Halsey stood over the control banks, gazing through binoculars at the attacking ships. “Not good, Ribera. We’ve lost most of the stabilizers. If the station takes much more of a beating, we’ll be swimming with those monsters!”

“What about our defenses?”

“Their initial cannon attack effectively crippled us. Security bots were knocked out, and we’ve lost our submersibles. Even the ferry’s been taken out. I sent a distress call to the air corps—”

“No one’s coming,” Santiago said. “They’re all grounded, so we’re on our own.” He gazed at the looming ships.

“There must be something you can do!” George shouted over the deafening sound of vibrating, twisting metal.

Then all at once, the battering ended. The platform stopped swaying.

The cannon fire ceased . . . replaced by the much closer sound of rifle fire.

Captain Halsey looked through the security scopes. “They’re boarding us.”

“How many men?” Santiago asked.

“At least fifty,” Captain Halsey said. “And an assault robot.”

Diego could barely breathe. Outside he heard shouting, frantic footsteps, the crackle of gunfire.

“Seal the door,” Santiago said.

“You heard him,” Captain Halsey said to the two marines by the door.

“We’re just going to hide in here?” George said.

Santiago whirled, and, though his voice remained low, he sounded as angry as Diego had ever heard him. “It’s not hiding when the enemy knows where you are. We’re buying time.”

“Buying time for what?” George said.

Santiago didn’t answer.

A blowtorch burst to life. The marines began to melt the edge of the door to the frame.

“Sir!” one of the workers shouted from the back of the room. “This air vent could lead down to the lifeboats.”

“What good are lifeboats against those Aeternum ships?” George said.

“They might be small enough to escape unnoticed,” Santiago said. “And since they’re sail powered, they shouldn’t attract those mosasaurs.” He motioned to the workers. “Go!”

They dropped to their knees and began unscrewing the air vent grate in the wall.

A burly hand fell on Diego’s shoulder. “Come on, kid,” Stan Angelino, Dad’s foreman, said. He pulled Diego toward the vent.

“Wait, no!” Diego shouted.

“We’ve got it!” one of the workers shouted, tearing away the grating while the other began to slide his feet down into the airshaft.

“Let go!” Diego said.

“Can’t do it,” Stan said. “Your father ordered me to get you to safety.”

“I want to stay here!” Diego said. He turned and found Santiago across the room. Dad nodded at him, his face stern.

“Go. That’s an order.”

“I—”

Small-caliber bullets smashed against the armor of the command center door. The door shuddered under the pounding. The gunfire ceased, and there was a moment of silence, and then the sound of groaning metal as the assault robot tore the bulkhead door out.

“Come on,” Stan whispered. Diego didn’t protest. He dropped to his knees beside Stan, grabbed the edge of the vent, and pushed himself in, feetfirst.

“Here.” Stan handed him the grate for the vent. “I’m going to help hold them off,” he whispered, and darted away into the smoke.

Diego slid until his shoulders were through, then twisted back around and replaced the grate. He couldn’t screw it into place, but he leaned it as flush with the wall as he could just before—

Gunfire cracked. Shouts echoed. Cries of pain. The smoke began to dissipate, and Diego saw shadows darting back and forth.

He spied his father standing beside Captain Halsey, a handgun raised. They were flanked by two marines, with the other engineers and George behind them, all using the station’s control console as cover.

Diego began to shimmy backward. His feet left metal over the vertical shaft that he would need to climb down.

And yet he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

He kept peering out the grate. A marine lay on the floor nearby, unmoving. There was a flash: the gleam of the Aeternum warrior’s sword. He wanted to call out to his dad, but he couldn’t risk it.

Shouts. More gunshots. Fists colliding, the thumps of bodies hitting the floor. The smoke was almost gone now, and Diego saw another man step through the doorway, making no effort to defend himself.

“Santi, my boy,” the man called, “we can kill everyone in here, or you can show yourself. One of those two options sounds much easier.”

Don’t do it, Dad, Diego thought, but he heard footsteps, and his father stepped out from behind the control consoles.

“Hello, Balthus,” Santiago said. “I wish this were a surprise.”

Balthus Tintoretto smiled at Santiago and raised a gun toward him. “Oh come on. No hug for an old friend?”

Santiago lowered his gun. “If it’s me you want, then take me. But leave the rest of these innocents alone.”

Diego glimpsed a shadow, a figure slipping up behind Santiago. He wanted to call out—but the man had a sword against Santiago’s throat in less than a second.

“No one is innocent,” the man said.

Diego recognized the Roman battle armor from the news reports, and he saw the Aeternum symbol etched in gold on the man’s uniform: a Roman sword facing up, with a bow facing down.

“Hello, Magnus,” Santiago said tightly against the blade.

“Still the compassionate fool,” Magnus said. “Some things never change.”

“No, Magnus,” Santiago grunted. “I can see that they don’t.”

It was all Diego could do not to scream. Why was his father speaking to the leaders of the Aeternum, the vilest enemies known to this world, like they knew each other?

“The time has finally come,” Magnus said, lowering the blade but only to place the point against the small of Santiago’s back, “to complete the great work that we started together so long ago, back when you had purpose!”

More Aeternum soldiers swept into the room.

“It’s me you want,” Santiago said. “Leave my people be.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Balthus said. “We’ll be needing all your engineers for our cause.”

The soldiers rounded up George Sr., Georgie, and about a dozen of Santiago’s engineers, and marched them toward the door.

A soldier appeared before Santiago, holding a set of chained cuffs.

“Hold out your hands, brother,” Magnus said. “Just need to be sure you don’t have any heroics left in you.”

Diego watched his father raise his arms, heard the cuffs click around his wrists. He held his breath, fighting the urge to leap out, but it would be pointless. He’d only be captured as well.

And suddenly he realized: Dad knew they were coming for him.

Balthus turned to leave. Magnus gave Santiago a shove, and he moved to the door.

The room shuddered, and Diego heard a distant whine of metal. This place was still in danger of collapsing into the sea.

The shaking loosened dust in the vent. Diego tried to hold his nose, but a cough slipped out of him.

Magnus froze. He turned and peered around the room. His cold, ruthless stare fell on the grating, studying it. . . .

He stepped toward the vent, tapping his sword against the floor.

Diego couldn’t move, couldn’t think—

“Magnus.” Balthus was back at the door. “We need to depart.”

Magnus nodded. “Of course.” He glanced again at the grating and then strode out of the room.

It was some time before Diego could bring himself to move. When he finally did, he carefully lifted the grate aside, crawled out of the vent, and then collapsed against the wall and began to cry. His body shivered, all his fear pouring out of him, his face in his hands.

A horn sounded from out on the water. Diego dragged himself to his feet and hurried onto the deck. The three Aeternum ships were sweeping back out to sea.

He pictured his father on board, maybe in a cell, in chains.

He had to find a way to help him. But first he had to get out of here and tell the world what had happened.

And I have to tell Mom.

Diego stepped back into the control center. He found the radio. It had been blasted to pieces. Dad would have known how to fix it.

But maybe Diego did, too. He placed his hands over the broken pieces and tried to calm his thoughts. It wasn’t easy, with images of the firefight, of the mosasaurs, of Magnus with his sword to Santiago’s throat . . . but finally he pushed the thoughts away and felt the tingling sensation of the Maker’s Sight. It ignited like a match in his mind, illuminating the connections between the radio parts, only to be snuffed out as flashes of the battle and his father bulled their way into his mind.

He started over, and then again, searching for his focus. Finally, his hands started to move, to reach for tools, and slowly, he reassembled the radio.

CHAPTER SIX

Streets of Fire

Diego sat at the kitchen table, unmoving. Numb. He pushed the glass of warm milk a few inches away from him. Picked it up, put it down. He ran his spoon through the Irish stew his mother had made, stirring dark broth and chunks of potato and carrot back and forth, but he didn’t take a bite.

“It’s not your fault,” Siobhan said gently from across the table.

Diego glanced up. He’d barely been able to look at her since he’d been brought home. She offered him a supportive smile, but her eyes were red, her face tight with worry.

Tears sprang from his eyes again. He couldn’t hold them back. “I wanted to stop them, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Siobhan said. She reached out and rubbed his hand. “You’d be no match for Magnus and his warriors. Few people are. And you were doing what Dad wanted. He would never have forgiven himself if you were captured, too.”

Diego nodded. He knew this. But it didn’t make him feel any better. “I just . . . I wish there had been something . . . some way I could have used the Maker’s Sight. Anything.”

“So . . . Santiago was right after all,” Siobhan said. “You have the Maker’s Sight.”

“Yeah.” Diego shifted in his chair. “And I know it needs to be kept secret. I just . . .”

“What is it, honey?”

“Nothing.”

Siobhan rubbed his hand again. “All that matters is that you’re safe. Now eat up and then get some rest.”

She stood and took her sidearm holster from the counter and slung it over her shoulder. He’d seen her wear it to military functions, but she’d never had it out around the house. “I’m going to check with the guards.” She headed for the front door. Two marines were stationed outside.

Diego shuffled through his nighttime routines, then lay in bed, staring at the curved inside wall and wondering how he would ever sleep. His mind replayed the attack. He could hear the explosions, feel the station rattling, smell the smoke.

Siobhan came in a few minutes later and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Any news?” Diego asked.

“No,” Siobhan said. “There won’t be until morning. Magistrate Huston has called a meeting first thing tomorrow at Union Station. We’ll know more then. Now, try to sleep.” She kissed his forehead.

“Mom . . . ,” Diego said cautiously. There was a question he’d been yearning to ask. “Those Aeternum . . . Magnus, Balthus—Dad knew them. They talked to him like they were old friends.”

Mom’s lips pursed. “Not friends, exactly. But yes, your father worked with them in the past, before they were the Aeternum. It was during the Dark Years. He doesn’t like to talk about it, and he’s never told me very much, but I do know this: when your father met Magnus, he was a great warrior, and he helped the allies turn the tide and end the fighting in the Chronos War. But after that . . . he changed.”

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