the pile of lumber, pushing his sleeves up. Otter raised an eyebrow and gave him a small nod.
The bot spun on its heels and moved quickly back to Kevin. “You must come with me,” it said.
Kevin stood up from the pile of wood. “I’ll decide when you tell me where you’re going,” he said. He was scared, but he managed to make his voice sound confident.
The bot hesitated, and Kevin had to fight hard to resist the instinct to flinch and raise his arm over his face. Was he about to get lased?
“The Governor wants to speak to you,” said the bot.
It made Kevin even more nervous that Otter and Pil and the adults at the work site were staring at him with shock on their faces. Cort slid up next to him and whispered, “Go. You need to go.”
Kevin shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and held his arm out. “Lead the way,” he said.
The bot led him northwest, past all the central buildings, then along a path that led into a small cluster of trees. When the trees cleared Kevin saw that they were at the far northwest corner of the Island. Nestled up against the right-angle cornerof the Wall was a large two-story log cabin. Two bots stood guarding the front door, one patch-faced as usual, the other’s face covered entirely with the brown leatherlike skin. They stood stiffly, arms at their sides.
“Wait here,” said Kevin’s guide bot. It stepped forward, and the bot with the entirely brown face moved gracefully to meet it.
“Business?” it said.
“Delivering the new provisional Islander to the Governor, as requested,” said Kevin’s bot.
The guard glanced at Kevin, then nodded and stepped backward. It opened the door. “Proceed. The Governor is expecting you.”
Inside it was dark, and the glare from the sun made it impossible for Kevin to see more than murky shadows inside. He thought about just turning around and running. Would he make it out of the Island? No, not a chance, he knew. He bent down to untie and then retie his shoes, to give the butterflies in his stomach a moment to settle. They didn’t.
“Come now,” said his guide. “Enter.”
Kevin took a deep breath, like he was plunging under water, and entered the cabin, the bot at his heels.
At the far end of the room was a metal table, a harsh bright blue color made even harsher by comparison to the brown and tan wooden beams of the walls and ceiling and floor. An old man sat at the table, leaning over a pile of circuitry, wearing apair of scope glasses. Tech Tom had owned a similar pair. He had used them for nanocircuitry work.
With a rush of dread, Kevin saw that standing next to the man, hands on her hips, looking impatient, was Captain Clay. She gave Kevin an annoyed scowl, then rapped gently on the table. “Governor,” she said.
The old man looked up from his work, startled, and slid the scope glasses up to his forehead. “What?” he said. “I told you I’d only be another minute . . .” His eyes fell upon Kevin and the bot. “Ah. My guest has arrived. Thank you. Mira, will you please excuse us for a few minutes?”
The Captain’s scowl deepened even further. “I should be involved in any Islander debriefings, Governor.”
“This isn’t a debriefing, Mira,” said the Governor. “I just have a few questions for the boy.” He held his arm out toward the front door. “Five minutes,” he said.
Captain Clay spun and walked briskly past Kevin without looking at him. Kevin heard the door open and shut behind him.
“Please,” said the Governor. “Come to the table.”
Kevin walked up to the table. There were no other seats in the room, so Kevin just stood. The bot followed him, standing at Kevin’s right shoulder.
Up close, Kevin could see the man’s deep wrinkles, the loose, tanned skin that, along with the silver hair, made Kevin guess the man was nearly seventy. The only person he hadever seen as old was the grocer from the City, who had helped them escape from the Peteys.
The man smiled. It seemed genuine and made
The bot spun on its heels and moved quickly back to Kevin. “You must come with me,” it said.
Kevin stood up from the pile of wood. “I’ll decide when you tell me where you’re going,” he said. He was scared, but he managed to make his voice sound confident.
The bot hesitated, and Kevin had to fight hard to resist the instinct to flinch and raise his arm over his face. Was he about to get lased?
“The Governor wants to speak to you,” said the bot.
It made Kevin even more nervous that Otter and Pil and the adults at the work site were staring at him with shock on their faces. Cort slid up next to him and whispered, “Go. You need to go.”
Kevin shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and held his arm out. “Lead the way,” he said.
The bot led him northwest, past all the central buildings, then along a path that led into a small cluster of trees. When the trees cleared Kevin saw that they were at the far northwest corner of the Island. Nestled up against the right-angle cornerof the Wall was a large two-story log cabin. Two bots stood guarding the front door, one patch-faced as usual, the other’s face covered entirely with the brown leatherlike skin. They stood stiffly, arms at their sides.
“Wait here,” said Kevin’s guide bot. It stepped forward, and the bot with the entirely brown face moved gracefully to meet it.
“Business?” it said.
“Delivering the new provisional Islander to the Governor, as requested,” said Kevin’s bot.
The guard glanced at Kevin, then nodded and stepped backward. It opened the door. “Proceed. The Governor is expecting you.”
Inside it was dark, and the glare from the sun made it impossible for Kevin to see more than murky shadows inside. He thought about just turning around and running. Would he make it out of the Island? No, not a chance, he knew. He bent down to untie and then retie his shoes, to give the butterflies in his stomach a moment to settle. They didn’t.
“Come now,” said his guide. “Enter.”
Kevin took a deep breath, like he was plunging under water, and entered the cabin, the bot at his heels.
At the far end of the room was a metal table, a harsh bright blue color made even harsher by comparison to the brown and tan wooden beams of the walls and ceiling and floor. An old man sat at the table, leaning over a pile of circuitry, wearing apair of scope glasses. Tech Tom had owned a similar pair. He had used them for nanocircuitry work.
With a rush of dread, Kevin saw that standing next to the man, hands on her hips, looking impatient, was Captain Clay. She gave Kevin an annoyed scowl, then rapped gently on the table. “Governor,” she said.
The old man looked up from his work, startled, and slid the scope glasses up to his forehead. “What?” he said. “I told you I’d only be another minute . . .” His eyes fell upon Kevin and the bot. “Ah. My guest has arrived. Thank you. Mira, will you please excuse us for a few minutes?”
The Captain’s scowl deepened even further. “I should be involved in any Islander debriefings, Governor.”
“This isn’t a debriefing, Mira,” said the Governor. “I just have a few questions for the boy.” He held his arm out toward the front door. “Five minutes,” he said.
Captain Clay spun and walked briskly past Kevin without looking at him. Kevin heard the door open and shut behind him.
“Please,” said the Governor. “Come to the table.”
Kevin walked up to the table. There were no other seats in the room, so Kevin just stood. The bot followed him, standing at Kevin’s right shoulder.
Up close, Kevin could see the man’s deep wrinkles, the loose, tanned skin that, along with the silver hair, made Kevin guess the man was nearly seventy. The only person he hadever seen as old was the grocer from the City, who had helped them escape from the Peteys.
The man smiled. It seemed genuine and made
Similar Books
