Operation Tenley Read online

  5

  Fair City

  The Great Hall spread out into a sea of white robes in front of them. Hologram signs floated, bounced, or blinked as far as Pennie and Laraby could see.

  Propeller License Renewal Discrepancies?

  We can help.

  Dial 176.4999.99003 for a free consultation.

  Fair One Caught Bending?

  You’ll need some defense.

  Dial 176.4999.99123

  “Where do we go?” Pennie’s eyes glided over the long lines of Fair Ones snaked around red laser ropes. A plump Fair One with a sticker stuck to his robes bumped into her: Ask Me How I Lost Weight.

  “Follow me,” Laraby said, leading her directly through a blinking hologram sign:

  WHEN YOUR ROBES

  NEED TO LOOK THEIR VERY BEST

  DIAL GALACTIC CLEANERS

  “Shortcut,” he said, noticing Pennie’s surprised look. “There’s no rule that says you can’t walk through them.”

  Along the walls as far as Pennie could see, plastic chairs were occupied with bored or bothered-looking Fair Ones, all wearing the same white robes hanging loosely around them now that their tool belts were gone. She had never been around so many Fair Ones at once. During her training, Pennie kept mostly to herself unless she was back at Fair One quarters, where she had a few rookie friends she might meet for dinner or occasionally join for an approved spin around the atmosphere. But space travel made her queasy so she’d usually bow out, claiming she’d had a long day watching over her client and had to be up again early to do the same. The truth was, Pennie spent more time monitoring her client than any of her fellow rookies. She couldn’t understand how they could be so relaxed. Danger was everywhere for the clients on Earth.

  Pennie followed Laraby past a General Information window and over to a long line that ended next to a trash bin.

  Laraby took his place at the back of the line.

  Pennie lined up behind him. “Is it possible that they could arrest you for doing your job too well?”

  “No.” Laraby shook his head.

  The two Fair Ones standing in front of them turned to each other. “It wasn’t a bad propeller. I distribute quality products,” the bigger Fair One with a bruised lower lip said.

  “Your product is flawed.” The smaller one poked him.

  Laraby turned back to Pennie. “I have heard they’ve started doing random reviews, though.”

  “You think we’re getting reviewed?” Pennie felt dizzy again. “How can I be getting reviewed? I’m still in my rookie assignment. Plus, a review can take a few days. I can’t leave my client that long—”

  The bigger Fair One in front of them poked the smaller one back. “You’re dreamin’, old fairy.”

  “Oh so that’s what you do, make it everyone else’s problem?” The smaller one poked again.

  The two were about to come to blows until, “Taking number 33,000,601,” was called over the loudspeaker.

  “You got lucky,” the bigger Fair One mumbled, starting toward the service window.

  “You got lucky,” the smaller one said, hustling to keep up with him.

  A Fair One with a slushie cart passed through the space the two fighting Fair Ones had vacated.

  “I think I’ll get a snack while we’re waiting,” Laraby said, turning to follow him. Pennie noticed Laraby’s large-ish belly. If a Fair One could no longer fit into his tool belt, he was forced to trade in his sleek propellers for a heftier version that moved half as fast. Pennie’s belt was too big for her, even on the very last hole.

  A siren blared. Pennie covered her ears. The two furious Fair Ones were punching each other. Surrounding Fair Ones scrambled out of their way as three Fair Force with navy-blue tool belts and vests propelled downward from their posts in the ceiling, red lights swirling above their heads.

  In an instant, the Fair Ones were handcuffed and lifted up through a door in the ceiling.

  Laraby seemed unfazed when he returned with two blue slushies. “I got you one, just in case,” he smiled through blue teeth.

  “Thanks,” Pennie said. “I’m not thirsty, though.”

  “Try it. City Hall has the best slushies in all of Fair City.” Laraby took a sip from his spoon straw. “Plus, you get a free stroon.”

  Pennie tried a small stroonful. It was delicious, but her stomach was too nervous for more. She’d been gone from Tenley Tylwyth for too long. “Is it usually this busy in here?”

  Laraby nodded wide-eyed as he slurped another stroonful. Slushies always managed to improve his mood. “You wouldn’t believe how many Fair Ones aren’t following the Manual,” he raised his eyebrows. “Like the rules weren’t put in place for a reason, right?”

  Pennie nodded. But who was she kidding? Like most Fair Ones, she’d studied the Official Fair One Manual to pass the written exams, but hadn’t cracked it open since. In fact, she didn’t even know where hers was.

  Laraby took his last stroonful and threw the cup into the trash can. Keep Our Higher Courts Clean was written on yellow crime-scene tape all around the bin, which featured a picture of two perfectly coiffed redhaired Fair Ones and their shiny new propellers looking proudly down on Earth. Protecting Clients is Job #1 was written inside a floating bubble above them.

  The sunny pictures didn’t fool anyone, though. It was no secret that Mother Nature had been orchestrating natural disasters with record frequency. The Fairships claimed to have things under control but the Fair Ones knew better. Ever since the Superintendent of Planet Earth had failed to return from what was supposed to be a quick vacation, humans had been exposed to Mother Nature’s growing wrath. She refused to claim responsibility for the earthquakes, floods, and forest fires that had begun taking human lives in frightening quantities, but that was impossible to believe. She wanted revenge. Humans had been destroying her Earth for too long and now with the Super away, she had her chance. As long as she was careful not to attract the attention of Superintendents from any of the other planets, she could quietly reduce the human population. Or even, some believed, eradicate it altogether.

  Pennie glanced up. May His Return Be Swift was written above a gigantic hologram clock that never stopped counting the days, hours, minutes, and seconds that the Superintendent had been gone: 32506 days, 2 hours, 6 minutes, and 31 seconds.

  Eighty-nine years.

  And counting.

  At first, when the Super failed to return from vacation on time, it was assumed that inclement galaxy weather was to blame. There was no reason to worry; the Super had stored enough Universal Source Energy (USE) for just this kind of emergency. The fairies could go on doing what they did; granting miracles, fulfilling wishes, doling out lucky breaks, and so on. Until the distressing number of natural disasters began. Then, rather than wishes and miracles, the fairies needed to protect humans from harm. And for that, they relied on large amounts of USE, which was rapidly diminishing. Only the Superintendents of the many different planets were given access to the highly guarded USE. So after weeks and then months of no word from the Earth’s Super, during which time the fairies’ wings began to break off, panic set in.

  Search parties made up of the strongest fairies were sent and returned without success. Finally, they could wait no longer. The Superintendent’s right-hand fairies—those who had been left in charge, known as The Original Eights—were forced to come up with a plan. A different energy source had to be used to keep humans safe. And so, after days of difficult and complicated meetings, a plan formed.

  Technology.

  It would save the world after all.

  While Mother Nature continued her onslaught of disasters, the fairies began to harness galactic electrical energy, mostly comprised of cosmic rays and other high-speed particles that travel faster than eighty-seven times the speed of light. Combined with other kinetic and magnetic energies, they were able to create tools so advanced they could even be effective from their asteroid bel
t in outer space. With these tools, a Fair One—as the fairies would now be called—could monitor and protect their clients—as humans would now be called—almost as well as they could with USE. The Protection Plan wasn’t perfect. Tools, after all, can rust and break. But it was the best The Original Eights and their Fair Force could do until the Super finally returned.

  If he returned.

  Because although everyone still hoped for his swift return, after so much time away, it was becoming more difficult to believe. Some argued he had simply abandoned them. Others were more suspicious, citing jealous Supers from other less dynamic planets who may have wanted to watch Earth fall back into a barren state, leaving their own planets to shine the brightest.

  The thought of all that history made Pennie restless. Her client could be in trouble right now. She sighed at the perfect image of the smiling Fair Ones and threw her slushie into the bin.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Laraby protested, reaching in for her stroon. “Never know when you might be needing one of those.” He slipped the stroon into his pocket and stepped back in line. Another number was called over the loudspeaker.

  “That’s me.” Laraby held up his ticket and flashed a quick smile. “Good luck, Fair One.”

  “You too, and thanks.” Pennie watched Laraby disappear into the crowd. Another number was called. This time, it was hers. “Please proceed to Window B.”

  “Excuse me,” Pennie said, navigating through Fair Ones on her way to the window.

  When she reached Window B, she found it occupied by a bald Fair One. With a long red beard.

  “Hello again.”

  He turned around. Then frowned. “You must have the wrong window. And there seems to be no one at this one anyway.” He tucked his head in through the empty space to make sure.

  “But it said ‘B.’” Pennie double-checked her ticket.

  “That’s not possible.”

  Pennie pursed her lips.

  An Administrator appeared behind the window.

  “Finally,” Laraby groaned.

  Dark circles underlined the Administrator’s eyes and a dustnut crumb stuck to his chin. He looked exhausted and angry, like every other Administrator. No longer eligible for Fair One status or equipment manufacturing, usually due to one crime or another, and never even considered for Fair Force, these descendants of fairies had no choice but to remain stationed as Administrators. Unless of course they wanted to join the sipLips, a filthy, ragtag group of scavengers that refused to be anything else.

  “Tickets,” the Administrator mumbled.

  Laraby handed his over directly. Pennie placed hers on the counter. “There’s been some mistake,” Laraby said. “We seem to have the same citation numbers.”

  “Well, let’s take a little look-see.”

  Pennie thought she saw a quick roll of Laraby’s eyes. Administrators were not always the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “Identities?”

  “penn 1.”

  “lara b3.”

  The Administrator clucked his tongue and typed into his hologram keyboard. A floating report appeared in front of him, which neither Pennie nor Laraby could see.

  “No mistake. Same illegal use of Renegade Weathers.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Laraby said. “I did no such thing. I’ve never seen this Fair One before. And I’ve never enlisted the help of a Renegade Weather.”

  The Administrator replied with a blank face.

  Laraby turned to Pennie.

  “Don’t look at me, I didn’t use one either,” she said.

  Laraby crossed his arms and stared at her.

  She lifted her shoulders and dropped them again, defiantly.

  Satisfied, Laraby turned back to the Administrator. “So. There you have it. Clean slate?”

  The Administrator entered something into the hologram screen. “Nope. According to Fair Force, you’ve both received a red flag and an official warning. One more infraction, you lose a tool. Good day.”

  “Listen, Sir,” Laraby clenched his jaw. “I guess you didn’t hear what we just said. Neither one of us used a Renegade Weather.”

  The Administrator grinned. “What’s that now? You want two red flags? Done.” He tapped on his keyboard.

  Laraby grabbed the Administrator’s arm through the window. “You can’t do that. I have a perfect record.”

  Pennie snuck a look up at the Fair Force in their posts. “Let him go,” she warned.

  Laraby loosened his hold. The Administrator extracted himself from his grip.

  “Please,” Laraby said evenly. “Take those warnings off my record. Or I’ll report you.”

  The Administrator interwove his fingers together. “I’m sorry. But I do not have the authority—”

  Laraby reached for his arm again. “You just added one without authority. Now take them both off.”

  Above, one of the Fair Force was watching them.

  “Come on.” Pennie tapped Laraby’s shoulder. “We’ll come back later.”

  Laraby shrugged Pennie off. The Administrator glared at him. “If you don’t walk away right now, Fair One, I will call Fair Force.”

  “lara b3. Don’t. It’s not worth it,” Pennie pointed upwards. “They’re watching.”

  Laraby took in a deep breath—just before snapping up the Administrator’s keyboard and yanking it out through the window

  The security alarm blared. Two Fair Force dropped from the ceiling with stun guns drawn.

  “Take them to Room Thirty-three,” the Administrator ordered.

  “But I didn’t—” Pennie started to argue.

  “Both of them.”

  The Fair Force nodded, and in an instant Pennie and Laraby were lifted through the ceiling.

  6

  Fair City

  Room 33 was empty but for two plastic chairs in the middle and a long white countertop with two elaborately decorated thrones behind it.

  A recorded voice sounded: “Please take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  Laraby started for the plastic chairs. “It’s unacceptable that Administration is allowed any form of punitive authority over us. I’m sure this will be cleared up quickly, penn 1.”

  “It’s Pennie. And I’m guessing they can punish us, considering you tried to rip that Administrator’s arm off. It was just a red flag, lara—”

  “Laraby. And I beg your pardon, but I had a perfect record. Have.” He sat. “Which is beside the point. Administration is made up of bookkeepers, pencil pushers, form-fillers. That’s the entirety of their job description. Not doling out punishments. If they’d wanted to become Fair Force, or do our jobs, they should have thought about that long before doing whatever it is they did to get them where they are now.”

  Pennie sat next to him. “Why isn’t anyone here?”

  A light snapped on above the white counter and an elderly Fairship with a red beard three times the length of Laraby’s walked directly out of the wall.

  He didn’t look particularly friendly—until you compared him to the next elderly Fairship who stepped through the wall. She was slightly taller with red hair pulled into a bun and a severe face that, like it or not, was still quite beautiful. Their robes were crisp and white. As the highest commanders of the Fair Force, Fairships did not wear tool belts and their unwrinkled robes proved it.

  “These aren’t just Fairships. They’re Lord and Lady Fairships; Original Eights,” Laraby said quietly.

  “How do you know?” Pennie watched the two sit on their thrones.

  “Their sleeves.”

  It was true. Both had bell sleeves adorned with red cuffs. The only Original Eights Pennie had ever seen before were in her Manual. She had seen one or two Fairships, recognizable by their orange cuffs, propelling around Fair City on rare occasion. But Original Eights stayed out of the public eye.

  A third figure stepped out of a solid door to the left side of the wall. He was younger and less
impressive-looking, and his bell sleeves were lined with yellow cuffs.

  “That’s a Higher-Up,” Laraby whispered.

  “One of them came to talk to my rookie class,” Pennie remembered. He’d explained to the class that as an assistant to the Fairships, a Higher-Up could eventually become a Fairship, but most preferred to remain where they were, counting numbers and creating spreadsheets.

  “Good day, Lord and Lady Fairship,” the Higher-Up bowed from the end of the counter where he stood.

  “And to you,” Lord Fairship responded brightly.

  Lady Fairship offered only a small pull of her lips.

  “And good day to you, Fair Ones.” Lord Fairship acknowledged them. “Now let’s begin. You two have been brought to us on suspicion of Bending. Using Renegade Weathers. Is this correct?”

  Laraby shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, your Fairship.”

  “Excellent. Let’s hope there is.” He nodded. “We’ll take a look.”

  The Higher-Up tapped on his tablet and a large hologram screen appeared on the right side of the room. “Please remain still, Fair One,” he ordered.

  A red laser dot appeared on Laraby’s forehead. It travelled down and then left across his red eyebrow, finally settling on the temporal lobe two inches above his left cheekbone. Pennie squirmed in her seat but Laraby remained stiff. He shifted his eyes toward the screen without moving his head. The lights went out.

  There’s Holden, outside in the quad, minding his own business, practicing a few moves on his skateboard, when something catches his eye: a Frisbee heading straight for a girl passing out flyers. He launches off his board to intercept the Frisbee. He misses and nearly lands on the girl, who steps back just in time.

  The screen froze and the dot disappeared from Laraby’s temporal lobe. The lights snapped on.