How on Earth: Chapter 3
Numbuh One tapped his fingers impatiently against the floor. At first, he had been horrified when the Citizombies had pinned him. Now, a couple minutes later, their weight bearing down on him but nothing more than a tingle where they were still trying to Citizombify him, it was getting… well, quite annoying, actually. He glanced up toward Numbuh Sixty and asked, "Could you please stop using your powers on me? It's really quite uncomfortable."
The old man glared at him with glowing yellow eyes and stated, "That wouldn't be the case if you'd have just turned into a Citizombie, already."
"Well, allow me to apologize for being so uncooperative," Numbuh One said sarcastically.
The drill sergeant looked like he was about to snap back at the child when Numbuh Eighty Six, who stood off too his lef,t rolled her eyes and stated, "Would you two SHUT UP! Boys! How is it that, no matter how old you are you all still manage to be just as annoying?"
"Well, the Citizombification hasn't done much to improve your attitude either, Number Eighty Six," Numbuh Sixty snapped at her. Numbuh One didn't fail to notice how he said Number, like the adults, rather than Numbuh, as the KND would say.
"Be quiet, all of you." A voice called out from near the broken control panel. Next to it, Nigel could hear the white noise that indicated that one of the screens had been turned on. He listened as the noise stopped and the agified Supreme Leaduh talked at another Citizombie through a screen.
"Status report."
"Sector V escaped, sir."
"What do you mean they escaped?"
"The pods were designed to outpace all other ships, sir," he heard the voice of the other soldier say nervously. "We couldn't keep up with it, even if our best ships were not damaged in today's earlier attacks, we might have had trouble catching them."
"Well, I want search parties organized and sent downstairs to find the remaining members of Sector V on the double! Am I clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. End transmission."
Nigel smiled as listened to the buzz of white noise that played momentarily before the screen cut out, happy to know his friends were safe, for the moment. Turning his head so he could see Numbuh Sixty, he shot the other a smug look; it had been his soldiers who were chasing Sector V. In return, he got a glare from the head of the Arctic Base and Training Facility, along with a slight increase in the sensation on his back, upgrading the feeling from tingle to itch.
The next sound he heard was that of shoes walking toward him. The pair of shoes, shaped to fit around not just the wearers feet but each of her toes as well, stepped into his view, and a boxer's mitt at the bottom of a pole came down next to them.
Nigel looked up to see Numbuh Three Sixty Two staring down at him, her Yield sign in hand. She gave an exasperated sigh. "Enough. We clearly can't agify him. Tie him up and I'll contact Grandfather to see what should be done with him."
He heard grumbles from a few people in the room as the tingling sensation stopped and his arms, which had been held to the ground, were pulled behind his back. Sixty was tying them as someone else worked binding on his feet before he was lifted up. Both sets of bindings were a little tighter than necessary.
He felt a twinge of fear at the thought of being at the mercy of Grandfather. He doubted that being a family member would work in his favor. In fact, it would probably make things worse for him. He didn't let anyone see how bothered he was by Rachel's statement, though.
"Number Eighty Six," the white haired woman called, staring at the space behind Nigel where he had seen the other standing earlier, "I want you to hunt for sector V, too. With operational anti-agifying technology, they are currently the greatest threat to Grandfathers rule. The destruction of that equipment, along with the recapture and reagification of those operatives, are to be considered your top priority. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir. Don't worry. We'll find them." Number Eighty-Six replied.
"Good, dismissed."
Nigel listened to Francine's footsteps as she walked up the stairs but continued to watch Rachel.
She turned her attention back to him, her yellow eyes looking deep into his dark blue ones. She looked at the man who held him. "Number Sixty, please remove Numbuh One's jet boots, then bring him to my private hanger."
"You're not just going to call grandfather?" The old man holding him asked in surprise.
"We need to deal with Nigel as soon as possible. The best way to do that is to hand him over to Grandfather." Then she looked back into the boys eyes. "He's far too dangerous as a loose end."
Nigel gulped as she turned away and walked up the steps. He tried to fight the Number Sixy as he was placed on the ground, so that his shoes could be removed. Unfortunately, other than forcing the ex-cadet trainer to take an extra couple minutes to separate him from his favorite footwear, he didn't really accomplish much of anything. When they came off, the wool socks that the boy had complained about earlier felt itchier than ever.
"Come on, Nigel," the Citizombie stated as he picked up the boy and threw him over his shoulder. "We can't leave Number Three Sixty Two waiting, now can we."
The time in Numbuh Three Sixty Two's private craft passed quickly and silently. The ship had two rooms; in the back of the ship was a larger room, which held their security detail, a group that consisted of four operatives. The other, smaller room was the cockpit. Rachel had insisted that she be allowed to fly the plane and that the prisoner be placed up front with her. She didn't say a word to him, nor did he to her as they traveled through space, into the atmosphere and toward the Convention Center but as they moved into a large parking spot, she finally broke the silence. "Your Grandfather's grandson, aren't you Nigel?"
"What makes you think that?" The boy asked.
"You can resist the Citizombification. It's the only explanation I could think of."
He turned toward the old woman and stared at her. It was amazing how much of everyone's personality seemed to remain intact, even after their free will was stolen from them. It was downright scary, too. "You know, I would have scoffed at the idea if it had been suggested a little over an hour ago, while I was holding the DNA tracker." Nigel felt a sad smile cross his face as he looked down at his socks. "Yes, I'm his grandson."
Nigel heard Rachel chuckle before the elderly woman next to him stated, "I guess you were right about the whole thing with Numbuh Zero, huh."
Nigel sighed heavily but didn't look up. It was too depressing.
"Nigel."
"Hmmm."
"I'm going to untie your legs,"
At this statement the boy looked at her, confused. "Why?"
"Because, as Grandfathers family, you need to make a somewhat dignified entrance, or it will reflect badly on him. You can't do that if I'm carrying you over my shoulder like a sack of flour." Her face was serious as she said this. "Besides, he should get a proper first impression of you anyway. Goodness knows that anyone who underestimates you will pay for it, even someone as powerful as him."
He didn't try anything as she loosened the coils around his ankles. Even if he did manage to defeat her, there were the people in the back main section of the ship, and his hands were still bound. He mulled over what she had said. Although this wouldn't be the first time he was in the same room as Grandfather, it would be the first time that the old man really noticed him.
Grandfather was actually his grandfather, who'd have thought it? Certainly not him. Father had done an excellent job of hiding their familial ties. To think his own uncle had not only allowed his adoptive cousins make him bald and attempt to kill him but also personally tried to roast him, rob him of his childhood, turn him into and animal for the rest of his life, use him as a cake ingredient and possibly almost claimed him as a trophy during the villains awards night. Well, if anyone needed proof that family is about more than blood…
As he thought about this, through the window he saw a very large dark shape fly down from the sky toward the large building that a crowd of agified villains were now entering. Grandfather had arrived. The sight terrified the child and a question popped into his head. Would he find his dad in there? It seemed all too likely.
Nigel tried to push the oppressive thoughts from his mind. He had to stand tall. This wasn't an argument over some ice-cream party. He was the only one here who stood for freedom, not just of children but everyone. Not only would he represent people's freedom to do what they wanted but also their right to be their proper age. He had to be strong for everyone who had fallen and the few people like him who still remained.
He felt the ropes fall away from his feet as Rachel rose from her position. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." Then he paused before saying, "Well, actually, there is one more thing you could do."
"What?"
"Well," Nigel began, a little embarrassed about what he was going to ask, "these socks are really irritating me. Plus, there's no point in ruining them walking around in them. Since I don't have any shoes, could you please take them off, too?"
The boy could almost see Rachel rolling her eyes, despite their glow. "You have got to be kidding me. Of all the things you could worry about, you choose to focus on your socks!"
"They're really itchy," Numbuh One said in self-defense.
In Operation Caked Five, when Rachel ordered Sector V to report to Moon Base, Numbuh one referred the trip as going upstairs. That was the source of the idea for Rachel's statement for sending operatives "downstairs" to deal with Sector V.