Jane looked down the hallway in the direction they’d been ordered to go once things were settled. “No, we’re not. And we’re not waiting until noon, either. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along as she started walking.

“Wait!” Tick called out, snapping his hand back. He searched around until he spotted the leather satchel holding the antidote. He ran over and picked it up, then joined Jane again, still marching down the hallway. “Okay, what are we going to do?”

Jane paused before answering. “You and I are going to stop Chu. Right now.”

Chapter

42

~

Sofia’s Task

Sofia stood by the small cave leading to the elevator shaft, leaning back against the warm stone of the dusty canyon wall. Master George had asked her to wait there until he could speak to her; at the moment, he was explaining to Paul how to use the Sonic Hurricaner, the Shurric. Sofia had picked it up easily and destroyed three huge boulders in quick succession.

The Static Ragers fascinated her, though. She watched as a Realitant woman threw one along the ground with a quick jerk of her arm. A sharp crack filled the air, then a low rumble of thunder as the Rager rolled forward, gaining speed and size with every passing second. Everything in its path—dirt, mud, rocks, bushes—compacted together in a huge chunky sphere, snowballing as it rolled. When the Rager finally smashed into a test boulder, both objects exploded in a spectacular display of earthy fireworks.

Awesome, Sofia thought. She couldn’t wait to hurl one at Chu himself.

Master George was walking toward her, shouting at the Realitants scattered around the riverside. “Everyone! Back up we go. We can’t spare another second!”

As the two dozen or so people gathered their weapons and headed for the elevator, Master George touched Sofia lightly on the arm, leading her out of earshot of the others.

“We must talk before you go,” he said in a low voice.

“Rutger told me you had something special you wanted me to do.”

Master George nodded, his mouth pursed with worry. “Indeed, my good Sofia, indeed.”

When he didn’t say anything more, Sofia said, “Well?”

“Ah, yes, sorry.” He pulled a tiny silver pen out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. It had no distinguishing features other than a clicker at the top and a small black clasp on the side for attaching it to a shirt pocket or notebook. “I felt I must trust you with this. Please take it—but don’t push the button.”

Sofia took it from his hand and held it with only the tips of two fingers, as if its surface might contain some poison. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s most certainly not a pen. Won’t write a single letter, I assure you.”

“I figured that much.”