The Guardians of Zoone Read online

  “Ozzie? Fidget? Is that you?” called a girl from the nearest cell.

  They rushed over to her. She only had a hint of hair, which meant Ozzie didn’t recognize her at first.

  “Piper?” he gasped.

  The teenaged girl self-consciously touched her head, as if suddenly remembering that her blue-and-green hair had been shaved off. At least her eyebrows were still there. It looked like they had been previously dyed, but now the natural color was showing through; the left one was green and the right one was blue.

  “I guess you never made it out of here to find any wizards,” Fidget said.

  “Got captured trying to sneak out of Zoone,” declared a second girl, emerging out of the shadows. It was Panya, Piper’s older sister. She was slightly taller than Piper, and all her hair had been shaved off, too.

  “But you’re here, Ozzie,” Piper said excitedly. “You made it! Do you know what I found before I ended up here? This photo of—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ozzie cut her off.

  “Your aunt and Klaxon were in love—weren’t they?” Piper pressed.

  Ozzie snorted. Being thrown into prison had clearly not blunted Piper’s personality.

  “How come they didn’t end up together?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ozzie snapped. Which was the truth.

  “Sounds like a tragic love story,” Piper continued dreamily. “It’s so romantic, so—”

  “Look,” Panya interrupted, “you guys have to break us out of here! Scuffy Will’s here, and he’s really sick.”

  Ozzie squinted into the darkness and could just make out a figure curled against the back wall.

  “There’s no keyhole on this cell door,” Fidget said. She glanced around, then frowned and pointed to a panel on a nearby wall. “Great. Just like Moton. Lady Zoone’s key won’t work here.”

  A series of groans came from the cells. Different crew members began calling out suggestions. Ozzie began flicking switches on the panel, but it was to no avail. “It’s going to take forever to solve this,” he said.

  “That’s more time than we have,” Fidget said. “Look, guys,” she said, turning to Panya and Piper, “we’re going to bust you out somehow. But Cho told us—”

  “Captain Cho’s here?” Panya asked, craning her neck to peer down the hall. “Where? What about Miss Mongo? And Keeva! What about Keeva?”

  “She’s soooo in love with Keeva,” Piper informed them. “And now they’re separated by bars. They’re separated by—”

  “Look, they’re safe,” Fidget said. “For now. But we need to find Lady Zoone. Is she here?”

  Piper and Panya exchanged a glance. “She’s through that door at the end of the hallway,” Piper said. “But . . .”

  “But what?” Ozzie pressed.

  “Something’s not right about her,” Panya said.

  Fidget turned away and began hurrying down the corridor, toward the door. Ozzie chased her.

  “Hey, what about us?” Piper called.

  “We’ll be back,” Ozzie promised over his shoulder.

  There were no more cells in this direction; Panya and Piper’s had been the last in the row. The door at the end of the passageway was old and wooden. It wasn’t locked, so they pushed through to find still more corridor. They followed it until they arrived at a large chamber. There was no cell here, no iron bars—just a tall, angular figure leaning against the wall.

  “Lady Zoone?” Ozzie called. “Is that you?”

  There was no response. Ozzie and Fidget tentatively stepped farther into the chamber—and the figure’s eyes lit up. It began lurching toward them. Lady Zoone had never been graceful at walking—Ozzie had always been under the impression that it was something that didn’t come naturally to her—but this was different. It was as if something terrible had happened to her, like she had broken some of her limbs and now they were in stiff casts. It was like . . .

  Ozzie jumped backward.

  “Quoggswoggle!” Fidget cried.

  It wasn’t Lady Zoone teetering toward them, even though it looked almost exactly like her.

  It was a moto.

  25

  The Underground Rises Up

  “She’s a fake,” Ozzie murmured in shock. “A replica.”

  “I told you something wasn’t right!” Fidget exclaimed. “If you see her from far away, you might almost believe it’s her.”

  “Where’s the real Lady Zoone?!” Ozzie panicked.

  “She is on Moton.”

  Ozzie and Fidget whirled around. There was a passageway leading off to the side; it was just so dark that they hadn’t noticed it at first, and standing at its entrance was the last person in the multiverse they wanted to see.

  Klaxon looked the same as when they had encountered him on Moton, still mostly metal from his chest to his head, with switches, dials, and hoses protruding from every surface. Though, Ozzie noticed, there was something different about him. Klaxon seemed stronger, more confident. Maybe it was because he had just come out of surgery when they had last seen him. Or maybe, Ozzie thought, he’s even more machine now.

  Klaxon focused his goggles on the moto Lady Zoone. “My masterpiece,” he announced. “I have built many mechanical creatures in my life, but nothing so marvelous as her.” As he spoke, Ozzie caught flashes of silver between his lips. Even Klaxon’s teeth were metal.

  “Lady Zoone isn’t on Moton,” Ozzie said. “She . . . she can’t be.”

  “She did it to herself,” Klaxon continued impassively. “She would not accept my plan to save the multiverse.”

  “What in the name of Quoxx are you talking about?” Fidget growled.

  “The Destiny Machine,” Klaxon said. “My invention to save the multiverse from pain. Unfortunately, when I showed Zaria what I was building, she conveyed only dismay. It is unfortunate that she did not possess the wisdom to comprehend my gift. She left me with no choice but to abandon her on Moton and activate her moto replacement. Now I can complete my work without dissension.”

  Fidget gasped. “You left her to wander that wasteland? That was weeks ago! She wouldn’t still be . . .”

  Fidget was right, Ozzie knew. Cho had survived Moton, but he was a lot stronger than Lady Zoone. And younger.

  Klaxon pressed a button on his chest and the moto Lady Zoone lumbered back to the chamber wall. “She refused to embrace my plan. Now she knows pain,” he said. “Slow, agonizing pain. It is not my fault.”

  “What did you do?” Ozzie demanded.

  “Zaria is an Arborellian,” Klaxon replied. “When in extreme danger, they revert to their natural state.”

  Ozzie looked to Fidget. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “The poison will leach into her,” Klaxon continued emotionlessly. “She will wither. She will die. But not for a very long time.”

  “Wither?” Ozzie murmured. It was a strange way to describe a person wasting away. “Wait a minute . . .” Something had just occurred to him, something that made him queasy.

  “What is it?” Fidget asked.

  “The tree,” Ozzie told her quietly. “We were standing right in front of her. In that garden of rust. And we left her there.”

  Fidget’s eyes fluttered wide. “We have to save her,” she whispered, pulling Ozzie close. “We have to go back. We—”

  “You will get your wish,” Klaxon decreed.

  Ozzie shivered. It didn’t matter how quietly they had tried to speak. Klaxon must have heard every word with his motonic hearing.

  Two moto guards scuttled out of the shadows behind Klaxon and gripped them with metal claws. Ozzie tried to twist free, but there was no way to escape. Not unless he wanted to leave a chunk of his shoulder behind.

  They were herded down the passageway Klaxon had come from and through a series of doors and turns, until they suddenly popped outside, beneath the night sky.

  They had been brought up to the terrace at the very top of th
e station house. It was like a giant open-air courtyard; Ozzie could feel the breeze against his skin and see the stars and many moons of Zoone in the sky above. The terrace itself was lit by lampposts, but they were all that remained of the place Ozzie had known from his last time at Zoone. Everything else had been removed—the benches, the gables, even the beautiful potted trees that had once lined the circumference of the vast space. In the very center of the terrace, situated on a large, circular dais, was a doorway, constructed of thick iron girders. There was no door hanging on the frame, just the sheet of electrical static. Several motos patrolled the perimeter.

  “We’ve seen that door,” Ozzie said, with a horrified glance at Fidget. “It leads to Moton.”

  “Where it leads,” Klaxon corrected him, “is to the Destiny Machine.” He climbed onto the dais and stood beside the iron arch. “The device is now complete. At last, I can begin saving the multiverse.”

  “We don’t need saving, Metal-Head,” Fidget jeered.

  Klaxon’s eyes telescoped out, then back in, like he was frowning or furling his brow. “Of course you do. You are flesh. You can feel pain. But soon you will not.”

  The motos began forcing them toward the door, but before they were even halfway there, a triumphant blare erupted across the night.

  “That’s Cho’s horn!” Ozzie cried excitedly.

  Suddenly, several of the doors that led to the terrace banged open.

  “It’s not just Cho!” Fidget exclaimed. “It’s the entire Zoone Underground!”

  Cho charged onto the terrace, swinging his hunting horn with such force that it decapitated the first moto he encountered. Miss Mongo came from the opposite direction, clobbering motos with her rolling pin. Then there was Scoot, who wheeled onto the impromptu battlefield and began firing her blender gun in every direction. “Doo-do-do-doo!” she trumpeted.

  “The quirl got them!” Ozzie said, spotting the tiny rodent as she darted onto the terrace.

  Even the Zoonians that Ozzie would have never expected to fight—Mr. Whisk, Minus, and Fusselbone—had come to do their part. Then Tug burst onto the scene, bounding across the platform with Aunt Temperance clinging to his back like a knight on a steed. Tug couldn’t fly because of his broken wing, but plowing across the terrace caused plenty of disruption. Mostly, he took out robots accidentally—but that, Ozzie decided, still counted. And Aunt Temperance might not have had a lance, but she did have her flashlight—and she was using it to smash every moto in sight. In fact, as Tug whipped past, she took out both of the motos holding Ozzie and Fidget captive.

  “Come on!” Fidget yelled. “Let’s kick some moto butt!”

  There was a dismembered moto arm lying near Ozzie’s feet. He snatched it up and tried to slash the nearest moto, but it pivoted unexpectedly at the elbow. He might have cuffed himself in the back of his own head, except for the moto attacking from behind. The arm struck that moto instead, felling it instantly.

  This thing is kind of like a pair of nunchucks, Ozzie thought with a grin.

  He gave the moto limb a couple of test swings, then charged farther into the fray, still swinging. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Klaxon standing impassively next to his doorway. He wasn’t joining the fight, just watching. Then the moto-man flicked some switches on the door’s control panel and it shimmered open. Ozzie could see the Moton command center beyond—but only for a second before motos began spilling through and onto the terrace. There were too many to count—and they kept coming.

  We have to close that door! Ozzie thought. “Scoot!” he cried. “We need your blender!” He whirled around to search for her in the fracas, only to have his moto-arm-club smash right into her—or more specifically, right into her blender gun. The glass jar exploded, and the canteen clattered to the ground.

  “Oopsy!” Scoot warbled.

  “Great, Oz,” Fidget told him. “Gear-Guts was actually being useful. And now we’re done for.”

  She was right, Ozzie knew. An endless supply of moto reinforcements was flowing through the door—and without the blender gun, the crew was in trouble. Dread swept over Ozzie as he saw Minus get zapped by one of the electrical prongs of the attacking motos. The boy dropped to the ground, quickly followed by Fusselbone.

  Then, suddenly, all of the motos stopped and the terrace fell silent. Ozzie glanced around at the Zoone Underground. Cho had a black eye. Aunt Temperance had a gash on one cheek. Mr. Whisk had been felled and Miss Mongo was leaning over him, clucking pitifully. The old man’s beard had shriveled up to his chin and the quirl was there, sniffing him.

  “I do not want death,” Klaxon announced. “If you die, I cannot save you. It is time to enter the Destiny Machine.”

  “O’er my empty belly!” Miss Mongo roared.

  She lunged forward with her rolling pin, only to be immediately zapped by a moto. That didn’t stop her—but six more zaps from the surrounding motos did. At last, the giant blob that was Miss Mongo burbled to the ground. Ozzie stared at her in awe and despair; she looked like a heap of warts.

  The motos closed in on them like a noose. Fidget wrenched the moto-arm-club out of Ozzie’s hands and hurled it at the nearest robot. It clanked harmlessly off its body.

  So much for that, Ozzie thought. The canteen of Arborellian nectar was still lying on the ground, leaking fluid. Ozzie quickly snatched it up and passed it to Scoot. “Here,” he whispered. “Cap this and hide it in one of your compartments. For later.”

  “You betcha!” she said.

  She had barely finished hiding the canteen when Klaxon marched through his circle of motos and stopped a few steps in front of Aunt Temperance. He flicked a button on his chest and the moto army came to a halt, though with their weaponized hands still pointing at the group.

  Ozzie’s gaze flew from his aunt to Klaxon, then back again. The two of them were staring at each other, not saying a word. In fact, no one was saying anything, not even Fidget, who always seemed to have a comment. The terrace was fraught with tension, but it wasn’t just between Aunt Temperance and Klaxon, Ozzie realized. Everyone’s been wondering about them, he thought, sucking in a deep breath. And now, here we are . . .

  “Mercurio,” Aunt Temperance said, finally breaking the silence. “What . . . what happened to you?” The confusion and devastation were clear in her voice. She tucked away a strand of disheveled hair and took a deliberate step toward the machine-man. He stood stiffly before her, unresponsive except for the flickering of his helmet lights.

  Does he even recognize her? Ozzie wondered. Were those flashing lights an indication that he was trying to remember? Or were they like warning bells? Because Klaxon wasn’t moving. At all.

  Aunt Temperance slowly lifted a hand toward Klaxon. “Your limbs,” she said quietly, gently touching his robotic arm. “Your face,” she said, caressing his metal cheek. “You’ve been injured.”

  Ozzie shuddered—because he wasn’t so sure anymore that’s what had happened. Klaxon was clearly in charge of the motos. If they had hurt him, it was because he had let them . . .

  But that was something Aunt Temperance didn’t seem like she wanted to admit. “We can help you,” she told Klaxon. “It’s not too late.”

  Yes, it is! Ozzie screamed in his thoughts. He’s a robot. How can you love him?

  Aunt Temperance lifted her locket from around her neck and clicked it open to reveal the picture of her and Mercurio. “Don’t you remember us? We had something real. We can go back to this.”

  Klaxon reached out with his metal fingers and grasped the locket. His goggles telescoped toward the picture. A sound sputtered from his lips and Ozzie realized that something had changed in his demeanor. Was it seeing the locket? Or Aunt Temperance in person? Ozzie had this sense that he was losing control of his emotions, like he was a pot on the stove, trying to contain what was simmering under his lid. Eventually, he was going to boil over. Ozzie was sure of it—it was just a matter of when. But what exactly was beneath that lid?

  “
We can help you,” Aunt Temperance repeated. “I can help you.”

  Klaxon snapped the locket shut and lifted his chin to Aunt Temperance. “You,” he said, a hint of humanness in his voice. “You . . . you cannot trick me. Oh, I remember. I remember everything.” Then he squeezed the locket in his metal fingers, crushing it like a car in a junkyard.

  “Hey!” Fidget shouted.

  Ozzie’s own voice died in his throat. That locket had meant so much to Aunt Temperance. She had kept it all these years. She had carried it across the multiverse. And in an instant, Klaxon had destroyed it.

  “Mercurio—no!” Aunt Temperance cried.

  She snatched at the chain of the locket, dangling from Klaxon’s fingers, but he merely lifted his hand and pitched the crumpled metal. Ozzie watched it sail right over the edge of the terrace.

  Tears streamed down Aunt Temperance’s cheeks. Ozzie instinctively went to her side, glaring at Klaxon as he did so. Now he understood what was simmering inside the moto-man: rage and torment.

  “You are right to say that I was injured,” Klaxon told Aunt Temperance. “But it is not my flesh that felt the pain. It was my soul.”

  “Wh-what?” Aunt Temperance stammered. She slipped an arm around Ozzie, pulling him close. Usually, that was the sort of thing he resisted. But not this time.

  Klaxon’s lenses began to spin, round and round, as if he couldn’t quite focus on what he was seeing. “I was alone. A-lone-a-lone-a-lone.”

  “No one’s alone at Zoone,” Fidget told him, stepping forward. From behind her, Tug purred in support.

  “Alone-alone-alone,” Klaxon repeated in monotone. “I must not feel alone.”

  “I . . . I understand,” Aunt Temperance told him. “I’ve felt that way, too. But what if pain is important? What if—”

  “I am left alone,” Klaxon insisted. “Alone-alone-alone.” It was as if he had a glitch. The antennae on his helmet were shooting up and down—it was just what Scoot did when she was trying to process information, Ozzie remembered. “You found someone,” Klaxon declared with a hint of anguish. “Someone else to love. And I am left alone-alone-alone.”