Chapter 5: Gold
They landed the rocket on top of an empty parking garage in the middle of the city. No one noticed. Perhaps it was because it was almost midnight, or perhaps it was because people were just that oblivious - either way, it worked to their advantage.
"Point C is Cincinnati?" exclaimed Nigel.
He looked around in disbelief as he climbed down from the ship's exit. From their rooftop, the group had a decent view of the cityscape around them. Nigel was actually familiar with what Cincinnati looked like, but even if he hadn't been, there was a very large billboard helpfully proclaiming, "Welcome to Cincinnati!" on the next roof over to give him their location.
"Where did you think we were going?" snorted Mushi derisively, "Some secret fortress in the middle of nowhere?"
The bald boy adjusted his glasses and responded tiredly, "After everything that's happened tonight, that would have been less surprising than someplace so… normal."
"My bag, please," interrupted Father with a frown, holding out a hand expectantly.
Nigel remembered that he was still carrying the satchel after Cree had kicked it at them. "Oh, right," he replied as he shrugged the strap of the raggedy bag off his shoulder. He tossed the threadbare bundle to his uncle. The adult caught it with a neutral expression.
Joey, the last of their group, hopped down from the rocket. His sneakers landed on the asphalt with a thud. The boy shivered in the cold, night air and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
"Get moving already," Father shooed them all toward the stairs at the center of the rooftop as he added, "It's a twenty-minute walk from here to the hotel."
"The hotel?" questioned Hoagie with a raised eyebrow.
Tommy fixed his hat as he replied casually, "Yeah, it's where our families are staying."
As the group waited at an intersection for the crosswalk to allow them across the street, Father rummaged about in his satchel. He removed four brightly colored, collapsible umbrellas. They looked cheap and plastic, but had considerably more heft to them than their small size would suggest. There was one red, one teal, one green, and one yellow. How nice of him to have color-coded them.
"Here," said the man brusquely as he passed them out to the decommissioned teens, "Keep those with you if you leave the one-mile radius of the hotel."
"Umbrellas?" questioned Wally with a fair bit of skepticism as he threw his yellow-orange umbrella into the air and then caught it again.
Father explained matter-of-factly, "They're portable shields from KND tracking. Unless you want to get caught by the Executives, stay within fifty yards of one at all times."
Traffic ground to a slow stop, and the crosswalk signal changed to let them through the intersection.
The hotel building was nice, but not exactly memorable. It had neatly trimmed hedges and new-looking pavement, and the glass door was shiny and clean. Light spilled out of the entrance, offering a beacon of shelter along an otherwise dark boulevard of Cincinnati. The place looked quaint and welcoming and completely, stupefyingly, unbearably normal. After being kidnapped by their siblings, told that they were once top operatives for a secret organization of tyranny-fighting kids, and chased four hundred miles by flying vehicles that used food for weapons, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally were having some difficulty wrapping their heads around the idea that the wholly unremarkable four-star inn that stood before them was their safe house.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Tommy.
He slung his backpack off his shoulders and reached inside to pull out four smartphones. One had a simple, functional, red case; another was sky-blue with airplane stickers on it; a third was covered in a pink and green case apparently patterned after a slice of watermelon; and the fourth had a plain, black covering that was very beat-up-looking.
"Our phones!" exclaimed Hoagie, "You had them this whole time?"
"What the cruddy hell?!" shouted Wally with indignance.
Joey shuffled his feet and meekly apologized, "Sorry, but we couldn't have you guys calling 911…"
Tommy shrugged without regret, "Well, you can have them back now."
The younger Gilligan held out the devices in offering, and the decommissioned teens snatched back their phones with several grumbles of discontent.
Inside the hotel, sitting on the leather couches around a large, circular table in the lobby, were four pairs of parents, one single mother, and one grouchy grandmother. Most of them were laughing and chatting away happily, several glasses of wine among them.
When Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally entered the hotel after their younger siblings, they stiffened at the sight of their families. Tommy, Mushi, and Joey had already halted, apprehension apparent in the grimaces on their faces. After all, no matter what the situation, there's nothing ever quite as alarming to children and teenagers alike as seeing parents socializing with each other.
"Come on, move it. Don't you want to see your families?" said Father sourly as he pushed open the door.
At the sound of his voice, the gathering of parents at the table turned their heads and looked at the entrance, where their children were.
"Hey, Wallabee! Hey, Joey! Glad you and your friends made it, eh!" exclaimed Mr. Beetles brightly.
Mrs. Sanban spoke with an undercurrent of concern coloring her voice, "Kuki, Mushi, come here. Are you girls feeling alright? I know long road trips don't sit well with you."
Ms. Gilligan said with a sigh of relief, "Oh, I was worried you boys had gone home. I guess it's a good thing I bought that phone for you after all, Hoagie! Wouldn't want you to miss out on anything, eheh!"
"Nigel, old bean!" grinned Mr. Uno, "You got that text message thingy after all!"
The decommissioned teens were incredibly confused.
Nigel asked, "Text message?"
"You know, the one telling you to meet Ben outside your school to get picked up with your friends instead of going home."
Despite feeling bewildered and tired, the bald boy played along, "Right... that text message."
"Oh, isn't this exciting?" exclaimed Mrs. Beetles enthusiastically, "A free, week-long vacation in Cincinnati! And you kids get to go to that early summer camp with the wonderful brochure!"
Dr. Lincoln interrupted with curiosity, "Say, where are my daughters with their chatting, and the hugs, and the - oh, you know what I mean?"
Father answered clippedly, "They're already at the camp, remember? Your older daughter drove your youngest yesterday. They just didn't want to make the trip back here."
"Aw, I know that, but they really didn't want to come back and say goodbye to their mom and pop?" The doctor was disappointed, but not too much so. He went on to shrug and say, "Well, kids. They grow up. What can you do?"
"This is baloney," complained Lydia Gilligan. The elderly woman slammed her cane down on top of the table with a bang.
Everyone flinched and fell silent.
Ms. Gilligan was mortified as she exclaimed, "Mom! Oh, you know what, it really is very late. We should get going to bed now. All the luggage is up in the room already. Tommy, Hoagie, Mom, let's go."
The brunette woman stood up and smoothed out her dress, then hurriedly tried to help her mother up out of her chair (not that she needed to - Lydia Gilligan slapped her hand away the second she reached for her and pulled herself out of her seat without aid).
"Uh, okay?" said Hoagie. He shrugged to his friends, "See ya, guys. Come on, Tommy."
Before the Gilligan brothers walked away, Father announced loudly, "All you kids, be back here in the lobby by four in the afternoon tomorrow. I'll meet you then, so you can go to summer camp."
"Oh, jolly good!" chuckled Mr. Uno as he waved, "We'll be seeing you, Ben! Come along, Nigel, Ms. Gilligan is right - it really is quite late, eh?" He and his wife got up and began moving toward the elevators nearby, their son shuffling along behind them without a clue as to what was going on. The man continued cheerfully, "And what a day it's been! Can you believe what a fantastic coincidence it is that this trip we've won is sponsored by Ben's new company?"
The other parents were dispersing as well. Mr. and Mrs. Sanban called for their daughters as they followed the Unos to the elevators. Kuki was as puzzled by the situation as her friends, but Mushi acted like nothing was unusual, putting on a peppy, giggly facade. The Beetles couple laughed together with the Lincolns at some terrible joke before they stood up and motioned for their sons to come over. Joey went obediently and Wally grudgingly. The family of four and the two parents whose children were gone all left as a group to catch the next elevator up.
At that point, the only person left in the lobby, other than the bored desk clerk, was Father.
He sighed tiredly and kneaded the bridge of his nose with growl of frustration. The man who had once terrorized the Kids Next Door and several times almost destroyed the organization seemed, in that moment, just an overworked, middle-aged parent who really needed a break.
Ding ding! Ding ding!
Father removed his phone from his pocket and answered the call.
"Hello?"
…
"For Pete's sake, why are you still awake? It's practically tomorrow!"
…
"Uh-huh. That's no excuse. None of them should be - and you're supposed to be the responsible one."
…
"Alright, alright..."
…
"Hmph, well, tell Toiletnator he's in big trouble when I get back."
...
"Mm-hm. Me too."
…
"Goodbye."
He ended the call and left the hotel building with a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The next morning, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally found themselves woken up by their parents at almost the exact same time, and all for the exact same reason.
Breakfast.
Only half-awake, they were rushed through their morning routines in the hotel rooms they shared with their families. They brushed their teeth, washed up, and combed their hair if they had any. Wally spent ten frustrating minutes looking for his sneakers, which had been underneath the nightstand the entire time. Kuki was irritated by her younger sister hogging the bathroom for almost half an hour. In the luggage that his mother had put together, Hoagie found a new outfit just like his one from the day before and put the entire thing on inside out by accident, and his grandmother laughed. As he dug through the duffel bag his parents had packed for him, Nigel obsessed over the stray threads coming off his socks, vowing to find a pair that still looked new - he never managed to.
It was for one reason or another than none of them got off to a great start that day. However, when they got down to the lobby and ran into each other on their way to the hotel cafe, their moods became much improved. Breakfast with friends was much more enjoyable than eating with their families - especially when their parents were more liable to question why their kids were bringing umbrellas with them when it was a perfectly sunny day.
The four decommissioned teens claimed a small table at the back of the lobby for themselves while their parents and siblings mingled as a larger group. The early morning sunlight streaming in through the eastern windows made a pretty picture of the otherwise drab eating area.
"Ahhh," yawned Hoagie as he picked at a bowl of cereal, "So, did you guys sleep well?"
Wally responded, "I slept okay. Wish we coulda stayed in longer."
"We're already catching the tail end of breakfast," interjected Nigel.
The blond boy snorted, "It's not like this matters though, is it? I mean, what the hell is going on?"
Kuki spoke, "Our parents all think they won a vacation, and we're going to summer camp."
"But school's still going on! Finals are in two weeks!" protested Hoagie.
Nigel elaborated sarcastically, "Apparently it's an early summer camp."
"What does it matter?" Wally tossed the wrapper of his chocolate muffin in the middle of the table as he groused, "The world's gone cruddy bonkers."
Screeeech. Screeeeech.
All of them winced at the terrible noise. They looked up from their food and saw Tommy and Mushi pushing another table across the tiles of the floor, heading right towards them. Joey followed behind the two older children with a stack of folding chairs.
"Do you have to be so loud?" complained Hoagie.
Nigel got out of his chair and pulled it away from the table so that his friends' younger siblings could line up the table they were bringing over with the old one. They did so with gusto, slamming the edge of the new table into the old one so hard that Hoagie and Kuki's cereal bowls rattled. Nigel gingerly replaced his chair at the crack between both tables as Joey arranged the seats for the new one.
Bang!
Mushi loudly dropped an extra-large bowl of steaming, jiggling, vividly yellow scrambled eggs onto the table in front of the decommissioned teens. Tommy followed suit by sliding a plate of greasy, questionable sausage (it looked almost green) next to the bowl. Joey tossed down six plastic sporks between the china and then gently set a glass pitcher of orange juice on the other side of the scrambled eggs.
"Um… Hi?" greeted Kuki uncertainly.
Nigel deadpanned, "You're standing on the table."
Tommy, Joey, and Mushi hopped off and climbed into the chairs they'd brought with them. They placed their hands on the table in front of them, fingers locked, and smiled, looking for all the world like perfect little angels.
"What are you guys up to?" inquired Hoagie warily.
Mushi looked offended and hurt as she replied, "Can't we make our wonderful older siblings breakfast without ulterior motives?"
"Joey? Sure. You and Tommy? No," scoffed Wally with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the 11-year-old girl, who never dropped her innocent smile.
"Come on, that's not fair! We went through all this effort!" exclaimed Tommy.
Hoagie put his hands on his hips and responded skeptically, "What effort? Some employee in the kitchen made all this! You just took it from the buffet."
"But you really should eat," interrupted Joey softly, "Our parents have a lot planned for this morning. We're going to the art museum and the zoo before lunch."
"Why?" asked Wally incredulously, "With everything that happened yesterday, why are we acting like… like…!"
"... Like it's all okay. Like everything's normal," finished Kuki sadly, "Even though it's not."
Tommy answered matter-of-factly, "It's just what we always do."
Mushi said sharply, "We heard you guys talking about what our parents think is happening - summer camp is the cover story, and if you want them to be safe, you'll stick with it."
"The cover story for all this," responded Nigel exasperatedly, "Is really summer camp?"
With a shrug, Tommy commented, "You guys seemed fine with it last night."
Nigel replied flatly, "Last night, we were tired, shocked, and coming off of a lot of adrenaline. Now that we're thinking straight, that excuse seems, quite frankly, ridiculous! How does anyone buy it?"
"People can ignore a lot of strange things without any reason," stated Mushi wryly, "Our parents always have, and you guys never even noticed all those weapons outside the Delightful Mansion. Or the giant treehouse at baldy's place all these years."
Hoagie admitted thoughtfully, "Y'know, she's got a point about the treehouse."
Wally groaned and interjected, "Can we blame the mind-wipe thingy for that?"
"Actually, you kinda can," responded Joey after swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
"Huh? Really?" exclaimed Wally, surprised.
Everyone looked interested.
The younger Beetles nodded, explaining, "Yeah. It's one of the effects of decommissioning. Kids and teens who are decommissioned become as oblivious as most adults. You sorta… suppress the ability to notice or remember any new things that remind you of the Kids Next Door. The suppression can be unlearned, but it gets harder the older someone is. We call it the 'Zero Effect'," he paused and then proudly proclaimed, "I read about it in a research paper."
"Who researches that kind of stuff?" questioned Hoagie with an odd expression.
"The Kids Next Door, duh," answered Mushi before Joey could speak. The girl glanced sideways at the young boy barely out of his cadet training before she continued sourly, "He's misquoting a famous case study from a few years ago."
Tommy exclaimed, "Oh, that's the one research paper I kept hearing about but never got to read! I really wanted to get a hold of it, but you have to be part of the KND to see any of their official stuff. And it was really frustrating, because that study was just barely official!"
"How can something be barely official?" asked Kuki.
Mushi replied, "The research was done off the books, and was led by a field operative instead of a KND scientist. It was an amateur project that broke more than one regulation but turned up amazing results that got it excused. That study was the most progress made in the field of decommissioning research since the founding era of the Seventh Age, even though rules say it shouldn't have been allowed. The reason it was made official was because the leader's research partner was a KND scientist, and a really important one, too. He pushed it through to publication not long after the field operative's death."
"Death?!" exclaimed the decommissioned teens in wide-eyed alarm.
"Oops, sorry," giggled Mushi with insincere regret, "Did I say death? I meant decommissioning. He turned thirteen, that's all. Don't worry your little teenage heads about it, the guy's alive and well at this very moment."
Tommy rolled his eyes and sarcastically declared through a mouthful of breakfast, "I just love how you act like you're actually an operative."
Confused, Kuki asked, "Mushi, you're not in the Kids Next Door like Joey is?"
"Pfft, as if," snorted the younger Sanban dismissively, "Joining the Kids Next Door is the last thing I'd ever want to do."
Tommy raised an eyebrow and replied, "That's funny, because I think I remember the Kids Next Door being the ones to get you out of your permanent grounding. Now, why would they do that and give you access to their official files?"
Dr. Lincoln interrupted the conversation when he shouted, "Hey, kiddos! The museum opens in ten minutes, with all the paintings, and the sculptures, and the- oh, you know what I mean. Don't want to miss the first tour!"
Mushi turned away from the rest of the group. The 11-year-old girl put on a deceptively innocent smile and exclaimed with cavity-inducing sweetness, "We're coming, Dr. Lincoln~!"
"Kuki," said Wally apprehensively, "Your sister's kinda weird."
The museum went more or less as you would expect. The youths suffered through it while their parents oohed and ahhed at paintings that didn't look like anything special. Near the end, the families split up. The Lincolns wanted to take a walk around the block. The Gilligans went ahead to the bus stop to wait for everyone. The Beetles really needed to go to the bathroom. The Sanban family was trapped in the gift shop as Mr. and Mrs. Sanban debated the merits of picking up a souvenir or not. The Unos just wanted to stay a while longer inside the art museum.
"This one's quite terrific, wouldn't you say, Nigel, old bean?" asked Mr. Uno brightly.
The bald boy rolled his eyes and replied, "Dad, that's a poster for the gift shop. It's not art."
"Oh. Well, it's still quite lovely, eh?"
Mrs. Uno responded cheerily, "I think so, dear."
"Mom, Dad," complained Nigel, "Can we just go now? All my friends are going to be waiting outside for us if we stay much longer."
His dad's face fell into disappointment, and the adult said, "Oh, sure, if you'd like that, son. I just thought you loved museums. You were always going off to one when you were younger."
The boy was puzzled, as he couldn't seem to recall any museum in particular in his memory. He replied hesitantly, "... I did?"
The family of three turned a corner and began walking toward the museum's entrance hall.
Mr. Uno exclaimed, "Of course you did, son! Oh, it was when you were eleven or twelve… Always going to that one museum your gadget club liked, so you could meet with your friend Matty. Seemed like every weekend you'd go."
"Who's Matty?"
Mrs. Uno answered, "Nigel, dear, I know it's been a few years, but you must remember Matt! He was that nice boy who always wore that purple coat that was much too big for him. He used to come over even when you weren't around. The little sweetheart really looked up to you and your friends. It's a shame he stopped visiting after your thirteenth birthday."
"Right, of course…" chuckled Nigel nervously, "Matt. I remember him." Or at least, I will.
"We do not need another stuffed toy in our house!" exclaimed Mrs. Sanban.
Mr. Sanban begged shamelessly, "But it's so cuuuuute! And neither of the girls has a penguin!"
"No, what they have is far, far too many Rainbow Monkeys. We don't have room for another toy!" replied the woman firmly.
Her husband hugged the giant toy to his chest and protested, "It's not that big! And it also works as a pillow! An adorable, fluffy pillow!"
Kuki and Mushi watched as the argument swung back and forth between their parents. It was a verbal tennis match with the fate of a plush penguin held in the balance. Neither of them really cared about the penguin, though. It was just very amusing to see their father so attached to the toy while being completely unwilling to admit that he wanted it for himself.
"No!"
"Please?"
"No!"
"For the girls?"
"No!"
"But why not?"
Mrs. Sanban's eye twitched in frustration. She growled, "Because we have far too many stuffed animals already. I hadn't even realized how many we'd bought until Kuki moved the ones she used to keep in that treehouse back to her room. You couldn't open the door without having Rainbow Monkeys fall out into the hallway! We still have two closets full of Rainbow Monkeys that haven't been touched in years! No more toys!"
"But-"
"No!"
"Please?"
"No!"
Kuki looked at Mushi and asked curiously, "Did I really keep my Rainbow Monkeys in the treehouse?"
The younger girl replied grouchily, "Yeah, you did. You were really obsessed with them for a long time. You and the rest of your sector even discovered an island full of real Rainbow Monkeys."
"Oh, come on. As if that's believable. You're not even trying, Mushi," scoffed Kuki. Hmph, trying to make me feel stupid for falling for a lie that obvious. Not gonna work! She won't fool me before I get those memories back.
"Pretty pretty please?"
"No!"
"Pretty pretty please with cherry on top?"
"No!"
Kuki suddenly felt sorry for her dad, and a little guilty that they had two closets full of old stuffed animals at home. She interrupted her parents, "You know, we could give away those old Rainbow Monkeys. I'm not too attached to the ones in the closets anymore…"
"Really?" exclaimed her mother, surprised, "That… That's very generous of you, Kuki. Of course we can give them away."
With a wobbling lip and watery eyes, Mr. Sanban asked, "Does that mean we can get this penguin?"
"No!"
Wally and Joey were waiting on the bench outside the restroom for their parents to come out. It was a very nicely well-lit area, at least in the morning. There were very few lights in the ceiling, but there were tall windows nearby that let in bright rays of shining sun. The old wooden planks the boys were sitting on creaked as Joey shifted to let his knees hang over the edge of the bench.
Wally was complaining about how he'd picked the one stall that was out of toilet paper and then somehow managed to slip on the floor on his way out, landing painfully on his tailbone.
"Why is it always my bad luck?" groaned Wally, "Ya'd think I broke like a bajillion mirrors."
Joey replied, "According to the KND archive, you actually did."
"What? When was that?" questioned Wally, surprised.
The younger Beetles thought carefully for a moment and then answered, "I think you were ten? It was during a 'vaseball' game that got everyone in town grounded. I was too young to remember, but I listened to a recording of the broadcast that the Kids Next Door held onto."
"What's vaseball?"
Joey responded, "It's like baseball, but with things like plates and bowls that are breakable. Someone stole mom's purple vase and you went to get it back."
"Oh. Did I get it?" asked Wally curiously.
With a laugh, Joey said, "Well, we still have it, so yeah."
"Ah, good."
"Mm-hm," nodded Joey, "You'll remember the whole thing soon."
Wally snorted, "It'll be nice to have some clue what's going on."
"..."
"..."
"... Wally?"
"Yeah, Joey?"
The boy looked down at his feet, nervously swinging them back and forth as he tentatively asked, "You… You won't be disappointed in me, will you? … For working with bad people like Father and Cree?"
Wally gave his younger brother a reassuring smile and ruffled the 7-year-old's hair, responding, "They didn't seem that bad to me. Besides, I could never be disappointed in you, Joey. You're my little brother."
According to the schedule, the bus that they would be taking to the zoo wasn't going to arrive for another fifteen minutes. While that gave the Unos some more time to enjoy the art museum, the Sanbans a longer window to debate in the gift shop, and the Beetles family the chance to use the restroom, it left the Gilligans waiting at the bus stop bench with nothing to do. Ms. Gilligan seemed quite content and was genuinely enjoying the day. Tommy was bored out of his mind, but keeping his mouth shut out of consideration. Lydia Gilligan was impatiently muttering insults under her breath, but that was nothing unusual. Hoagie felt like their morning museum trip had been quite surreal.
"Hey, munchkin!" exclaimed Lydia, poking Hoagie in the leg with her cane.
"What is it, Grandma?" replied the teen irritably.
"Help me find the bathroom," demanded the elderly woman.
Annoyed, Hoagie complained, "What? Now? Why didn't you go with the Beetles when they left five minutes ago?"
She smacked him over the head with her walking cane and said, "Just do it, you little imbecile."
"Ow! Okay, okay!"
Hoagie stood up, as did his grandmother. He began walking up the steps to the museum, going slowly both because he was tired and because of the senior citizen following him. Once in the shadow of the columns supporting the overhang at the face of the building, he stopped and turned to wait for Lydia to catch up.
"Eep!"
He had not expected her to be directly behind him.
What he expected even less was for her to yank him behind one of the columns with the crook of her cane and lift him up by the collar of his shirt as if she were a very wrinkled, liver-spotted thug.
"Alright, you little potato, what do you know?" interrogated the elderly woman menacingly, spit flying out of her mouth and onto his face.
Hoagie stuttered fearfully, "G-G-Grandma? Why? W-what?"
She waved her cane at the sky as she ordered him, "Tell me what in the name of denture cream is going on out there!"
"I-I don't know! Please, put me down!" begged the frightened boy.
Lydia jabbed the end of her cane at his face, coming within centimeters of his nose. He flinched and looked away. She paused and, after a moment of thought, lowered her cane. Then, Hoagie's grandmother unceremoniously let go of his shirt and let him land on his backside on the concrete floor.
"Oof!"
From his position on the ground, Lydia loomed over him like a gargoyle. Hoagie gulped.
The woman spoke heavily, "You haven't been recommissioned yet, have you, boy?"
"N-no, I haven't," responded her oldest grandson. Then, her question registered in his brain. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and asked accusatorily, "Wait a minute, how do you know about that?"
She ignored him, rambling to herself, "Those noisy younglings are useless, the munchkins' leaders are trapped on the moon, we adults can't get a moment's peace with the upstarts snatching us up, and what's that chicken-faced chimney stack doing? Nothing. Oh, he'll find more kids to do the dirty work for him, but does he get a fire going under them? No! He let's them spend a day touristing whatever stupid city this is, instead of recommissioning them! The good-for-nothing matchstick has gone soft. Pah!"
Hoagie was thoroughly confused. He inquired, "Um, how do you know about recommissioning? And the kids trapped on the moon?"
Lydia listed off her answers, "One: I used to have to deal with you when you were in that stupid Kids Next Door. Two: word travels fast when adults' biggest pain in the tushie goes poof."
"Oh… okay?"
The elderly woman hooked the back of his shirt with her cane and yanked him to his feet, saying, "Get up and get outta here. I can find the bathroom myself. And when you can actually remember your thirteenth birthday, get cracking at that Moonbase and those upstart Executives. I want to go home, you know."
She shoved him at the staircase and turned around to open the doors to the museum herself.
As he climbed down the stairs, Hoagie felt dazed, like he'd been hit upside the head by something much heavier than his grandmother's walking cane. He looked up at the morning sky and saw a dusty, cratered half-circle hanging in the west. The moon. There were kids trapped way up there, and who knew if they were still okay? Recommissioning or not, how was he supposed to be able to fix anything in the crazy situation they'd found themselves in?
When he made it back to the bus stop bench, he quietly asked Tommy, "Hey, uh, is Grandma one of those adult villains you were talking about?"
"Yeah, why?"
"She just tried to interrogate me about the Executives and that kind of stuff."
"What?" exclaimed Tommy panickedly, "Oh boy, I should have warned you. Are you okay?"
Hoagie nodded, replying, "Uh, yeah, I think so. It's just… Everything is so overwhelming, but Grandma expected me to know how to handle these problems when I get recommissioned... It's really hitting me right now that people are being kidnapped, and there are a bunch of poor kids stuck on the moon - what must their families be thinking right now? These are big problems, and you seem to think that getting me, Wally, Kuki, and Nigel on your side makes that much of a difference in fixing them. But how? We're only four people, not an army."
Tommy patted him on the back with a reassuring smile and said, "Every bit of help counts in this fight. And you might not remember it, but you guys have beaten worse odds... But do you want to know why you make that much of a difference? The things you did in the Kids Next Door, the things that made you heroes - they inspire eleventy thousand kids around the world! Sector V is worth an army."
"Aw… Thanks, Tommy," Hoagie felt deeply moved by his younger brothers words. He sniffled, "You're really really biased, but thanks."
Ms. Gilligan interrupted curiously, "Oh, what are you boys talking about?"
Hoagie replied, "Just a game I used to play. Tommy's helping me get back into it, and I'm looking forward to that."
"Aw, it's nice to see you two getting along," responded Ms. Gilligan brightly.
The rest of their morning and early afternoon was a pleasant, touristy experience. They went to the zoo, picked out a nice restaurant for lunch, and then spent a few hours just shopping downtown. It was 3:30 when everyone arrived back at the hotel.
The group split up to go back to their rooms. The adults were all a little bit worn out by all the walking they had done, so they stayed in there to rest and relax. This left their children to pick up their bags and get down to the lobby by themselves - for all that you might think this would make them late to meet Father, the group was actually early by a decent amount of time. It was by 3:45 that the decommissioned teens and their younger siblings were all gathered around the same table that their families had been sitting at the night before. Their luggage (three small suitcases, three duffel bags, and one backpack) sat clustered together next to the largest couch.
Four brightly colored umbrellas lay on the shiny, marble surface of the tabletop, their vibrant colors hazily reflected in the speckled stone.
"Are we gonna have to bring these stupid umbrellas with us everywhere?" asked Wally.
Nigel replied gloomily, "Probably."
Joey tried to make the somewhat anxious teens feel better by saying, "It's only until we beat the Executives."
The doors to the lobby opened.
Father raised an eyebrow as he remarked, "You're early."
"So are you," responded Mushi snappily.
"Hmph," grumbled the adult, "Well, if you've said your goodbyes and are ready to go…"
They stood and passed the luggage around until everyone had their belongings.
With very little fuss and without a word, the entourage followed Father out of the hotel. Carrying their bags and dragging their suitcases, the group walked along the city sidewalks, wheels rolling over every bump and crack in the concrete. For ten minutes, they moved in silence until Father stopped at the entrance to...
"A city park?" questioned Kuki.
Father replied, "It's where I moved the ship. There's an isolated spot with a lot of tree cover a little ways in."
"How'd you fly it all by yourself?" asked Wally.
The adult answered blandly, "Autopilot is a wonderful thing when you're not being shot at. Now, let's go."
There was a shady alcove a few minutes hike into the woods. It was accessible through a narrow, brambly path hidden behind a curtain of loose ivy between two large bushes. Inside that natural, green arbor, you could hardly guess that there was a city just beyond the treeline. Cricket sounds and snatches of birdsong filled the atmosphere instead of car horns and traffic. The air tasted sweet and fresh. It was a grassy, cozy, relaxing little place that must have enchanted any children who had chanced upon it over the years and made it their secret hideout.
It was apparently also an excellent spot to park a rocket.
The decommissioned teens were gathered together near the ship, their postures erect and formal. Father, Tommy, Mushi, and Joey stood a little ways away, and in his hands Father held the repaired recommissioning module. All the luggage that the kids and teens had brought with them was sitting haphazardly in a pile out of the way.
Joey picked his nose. He removed his index finger from his nostril, and at the tip of the finger was a fresh, gooey booger. Father lowered the recommissioning module toward him. The blond boy reached up and stuck his booger in the hole that concealed the module's DNA receiver. Once the deed was done, Father lifted the wooden box back up to his elbow level.
"One last chance," the adult addressed the teens cautiously, "Are you sure you want this?"
The teens looked each other in the eyes and, one by one, they nodded.
Nigel verbally replied, "Yes… We're sure. I think we've been sure for a while now."
Hoagie agreed, "Yeah. We want our memories back."
"Definitely!" exclaimed Kuki with a determined look.
"Stop putting it off," said Wally impatiently, "Just do it already, would ya?"
Father rolled his eyes before replying, "Okay. Here it goes."
He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the recommissioning module and began turning it. The mechanism gave him more resistance than he expected and he pushed harder. The light, ringing notes of the song that accompanied the module's use played at first slowly and softly. Then, with every turn of the crank, the music crescendoed and suspense climbed ever higher until a beam of light shot out of the telescope lens at the front of the device.
It struck all four decommissioned teens at once. They screamed, which alarmed their younger siblings, but Father never faltered as he continued to crank the handle of the recommissioning module.
The entire ordeal couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but with their hearts beating fast in their chests, it seemed like an eternity. Those who weren't undergoing the process of recommissioning bit their lips and watched tensely, too enthralled to close their eyes or look away. Then, suddenly, the light became blinding and the screaming abruptly stopped.
Smoke filled the air, masking visibility and making the younger children cough.
Mushi wheezed, "... Did it work?"
Numbuh 5 felt the weight of the world fall upon her shoulders as Numbuh 362 walked into the decommissioning chamber, and after a scream and a flash of light, Rachel T. McKenzie walked out.
KND
For the most part, Numbuh 5's term as Supreme Leader was smooth sailing all around. She was stern but not bossy when she gave orders, which made it easy for others on Moonbase to work with her. She made good decisions and people liked her laid-back attitude. The girl tended to take more days off than the rest of Global Command really approved of, but they respected her leadership.
Under her charge, the Kids Next Door had signed a truce with the candy pirates, Stickybeard being the one representing them. There were whispers of an under-the-table deal between the candy pirate captain and the ex-candy-hunter, but the truth was that both were simply glad to have an armistice with the other. Let it never be said that Sector V always hated their enemies.
Her day-to-day life had become filled with decisions to be made, both small and large. Rarely did she get the chance to hang out with her friends anymore, although from the mission reports she received, they seemed to be doing fine without her. She was glad of it. That wasn't to say that she didn't miss being a field operative with her sector.
As much as she liked leading the Kids Next Door, Numbuh 5 sometimes missed not having to make the hard choices. The stress of being Supreme Leader wasn't exactly light. She could certainly see what had driven Numbuh 362 to call a game of tag a few years ago. She could also admit that if she herself had been forced to bear the position for a long time, she probably would've cracked and wound up doing the same. But as it was, Numbuh 5's five short months as Supreme Leader were exactly that - short. The time flew by much faster than the girl would've liked.
Numbuh 5 had to admit that Numbuh 362 had been right - the job as a whole had really grown on her.
What hadn't grown on her were the morning meetings she had to take with the rest of Global Command.
In a glass-domed rotunda near the top deck of Moonbase there was a round table made of a giant tire. The carpet was turf and the dozen or so chairs were repurposed footstools. This was the council room, where Global Command discussed major concerns. It was used for tribunals, tactical meetings, and whining to the Supreme Leader about whatever issues were on the agenda that week.
She knew that being in charge of the entire Kids Next Door came with its ups and downs, and she could usually put up with the council meetings. However, with her decommissioning coming up in seven days' time, the rest of Global Command had been getting bolder challenging her authority when they disagreed with her. It was frustrating, and she wondered if Numbuh 362 had ever had to deal with something similar.
"Okay," sighed Numbuh 5, "So, what's the issue this week?"
She expected a clamor of yells and waving hands and Numbuh 86 shouting over the rest of them as usual. The unified response she received instead surprised her.
Numbuh 65.3 stood and saluted. The others remained silent. He spoke, "Today, we have a shared concern that we would like to discuss."
Numbuh 5 raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, spit it out, baby."
"Father's recent inactivity has many of us worried. We'd like to come to a consensus about what to do about it before this meeting ends."
"Mm-hm," responded the Supreme Leader thoughtfully, "So, Father ain't been doing anything much lately, right? If he don't wanna bother us, Numbuh 5 doesn't see why the Kids Next Door should provoke him."
Numbuh 20,000 (the trigger-happy ex-security-operative had received a promotion to Moonbase to get him out of the field) exclaimed, "But he's planning something! He has to be! It's going to be something big if he hasn't tried anything for this long!"
"As much as I hate to agree with this lunatic," said Numbuh 86 sourly, "I do think it's suspicious that we haven't seen any recent schemes from him, lass."
Numbuh 5 crossed her arms and kicked her feet up onto the table, replying with a dismissive shrug, "Two o' the Delightful Children had birthdays in the past five months. That counts, don't it?"
"And Sector V recovered the cake intact both times," added Numbuh 60, ever the voice of reason and devil's advocate. He argued logically, "While the success of the missions is undoubtedly a good thing, the ease with which we captured the cakes says something about how uninterested in the Delightfuls' birthdays Father was. There hasn't been any other activity from him either. It seems likely that he's been distracted by some bigger plan to destroy the Kids Next Door."
"Or," suggested Numbuh 5 flatly, "He just ain't doin' anything."
Numbuh 65.3 interjected, "But we can't know that for sure, and that's the problem."
"The problem is that Father's got to be up to something," declared Numbuh 86 stubbornly, "We've been seein' more activity from the Delightfuls and the Teen Ninjas for a while, now. They must be preparin' for whatever his next evil plan is!"
With great exasperation, Numbuh 5 asked, "And what evil plan is that supposed to be?"
Numbuh 20,000 replied, "Well, we don't know exactly, but we could bring in Sector V to consult-"
"Hold it righ' there!" interrupted Numbuh 5 sharply with a chopping motion of her hand, "The minute you drag Sector V into this, Numbuh 1 is gonna spout off some cuckoo conspiracy theory, and you know it."
Scratching at his chin, Numbuh 65.3 pointedly said, "But Sector V are the experts when it comes to Father and the Delightful Children."
"I think you're forgetting," responded Numbuh 5 darkly, "That Sector V is my old sector! I know Father and them Delightfuls as well as they do, and what I know tells me that it's better for the Kids Next Door to stay outta Father's way if he's stayin' outta ours."
Crossly, Numbuh 86 shouted, "But ye can't know that he's not plannin' anything!"
"Okay, look," Numbuh 5 took her feet off the table and slammed her hands down on its rubber surface, "I do know that he ain't planning anything, so we ain't gonna do something stupid and push him into attacking the Kids Next Door again. We shoulda learned our lesson from the scavenger hunt and the Second Siege o' Moonbase." She paused and took a deep breath, then exhaled. Numbuh 5 continued speaking, but at an almost whisper-quiet volume, "I have inside information from a black ops reconnaissance mission. The Teenz an' Delightfuls have gotten busier, but they been acting on their own. Father ain't been givin' them orders. Right now he's moping around in his mansion all day eating ice cream in an ugly robe, not planning to destroy the Kids Next Door. We don't know what's got him in a funk, but it don't really matter so long as it keeps him preoccupied."
Most of them seemed satisfied by this. Evidently, Numbuh 86 was not, as she put her hands on her hips and asked, "Which reconnaissance mission did ye get this information from?"
Abby was laughing with Maurice, who was sitting at her kitchen table. He'd come over to hang out with Cree, but Mrs. Lincoln had grounded the teenager in her room after she'd wrecked her bike on the way home from school (the Kids Next Door genuinely had nothing to do with it). This left him able to relax and chat with the younger Lincoln sister for a while.
"No, really," chuckled the boy, "That's what they said."
"Oh, c'mon!" Abby swatted him playfully, "As if."
Maurice nodded, replying, "One hundred percent true. I swear it, Supreme Leader, sir!"
"Hey, Numbuh 5 ain't on the clock right now."
"The Supreme Leader is always on the clock," said Maurice in response, "So, really, what's this about?"
The girl's expression faltered before it turned serious, and she asked, "Why've the Teenz been so busy lately, Maurice?"
Maurice answered, "It's nothing serious. Father's been giving us more leeway, not really monitoring what we're doing anymore. The recent spike in activity is the Steve deciding to take advantage of the loose leash."
"Hm. Well, why's Father losing interest?"
"That, I'm not sure about. He hasn't shared any new plans with us, if he has any. Your old sector leader might have a better idea what's going on inside the Delightful Mansion."
-.- -. -..
Numbuh 1 slammed an empty glass of soda on the counter and ranted, "It was the worst way to spend a Saturday ever! I could have been running maintenance on the treehouse or at the KND Museum or working on a project… But instead, I get dragged down the lane to go to a stupid family reunion! All day! I thought that at least something interesting might happen, that Father might try to unleash giant termites on our treehouse or I'd find delightfulization chambers being mass-produced in the basement or-"
She interrupted coolly, "Numbuh 1, baby, it's Numbuh 5's day off. Can we get to the point?"
"Oh, sir, yes sir!" the boy saluted.
Numbuh 5 protested, "We've known each other forever, you don't have to- oh, never mind. Just go on."
She waved the bartender over and ordered two more sodas as her old sector leader continued, "Anyway, I thought that Father would try something, anything - but nothing ever happened. I couldn't find a single hint at an evil scheme in the entire manor - just loads and loads of ice cream containers and that hideous yellow bathrobe I told you about. It was boring. I brought all that 2x4 weaponry for nothing! The most exciting part all day was when the Delightfuls tried to pick a fight, but then Father grounded them."
Numbuh 5 stopped sipping at her grape soda and raised an eyebrow, "Since when do the Delightful Children get grounded?"
"Since yesterday, apparently," responded Numbuh 1 quickly. He shifted in his seat and went back to rambling, "Speaking of yesterday - do you have any idea how long an adult can go on and on about nothing but sousaphones? It must have been like forty minutes! I almost felt sorry for 'dear Uncle Ben'..."
"Well?" asked Numbuh 86, "What was the name of the mission?"
Numbuh 5 crossed her arms and answered reprimandingly, "It was a black ops reconnaissance mission. That means the Supreme Leader is the only one who needs to know anything. You're lucky she told you this much. Now, the Kids Next Door ain't provoking Father when the guy's leavin' us alone for once. End of story."
They seemed content enough with her decision after receiving something of an explanation. And on the bright side, that entire debate had managed to take up almost half of the meeting time. Now she just had to suffer through the rest of it.
Late that afternoon, Numbuh 5 was in the Supreme Leader's office. It was hers now, but she'd chosen to keep it as sparsely furnished as Numbuh 362 had. There were two neat stacks of paper on either side of her desk and a small folder of documents in front of her. She stamped one in green and put it to her right. Another she crossed off in red and set to her left. According to the clock, it was almost time for her to leave and go home. All she had left to do was to finish going through a few more mission requests waiting on her approval.
It was always while performing this mundane daily task that she missed being out in the field the most. With her decommissioning coming up in a week's time, that heartache was worse than ever. She began to daydream of some of her favorite missions with Sector V, and that train of thought quickly led her to wish desperately for one, last, big mission with her best friends on Earth before her time was up. She closed her eyes.
Knock knock.
She looked up at the door, surprised that she had a visitor, and called out, "It's open! Come in!"
The metal door opened and in walked Numbuh 1. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.
He greeted her with a salute, "Numbuh 5, sir."
"At ease," she responded, a smile tugging at her lips as she set down her pen, "What's up, Numbuh 1?"
The boy remained tense as he met her eyes over his sunglasses and replied humorlessly, "This is very important, Numbuh 5. It's been in the works for a long time, and now… Well, there's a secret you have to be told - and, related to it, a big favor I have to ask."
She knew that tone of voice was never a joke. Numbuh 5 sat up straighter and leaned her elbows on her desk, her fingers locking together under her chin. She adopted a serious expression and switched to all-business mode. The Supreme Leader asked, "Alright, Numbuh 5's listening. What is it?"
Author's Note: I'm posting this chapter a day early because I'm going to Niagara Falls with my family tomorrow, and I won't be able to get to a computer. Next week's chapter should still be on Saturday.
Please leave your thoughts in a review!