Kingdom Keepers V(86)

The next few attempts with the broken bulb failed, passing through Philby’s hologram. Of all the Keepers, Philby was by far the most cerebral. His brain never rested. For months he’d been occupied with mastering DHI 2.0, and now his work paid off.

He charged the girl—the bloody broken bulb aimed into his face passed through him; he knocked her back, continuing past her through the wall and into the adjoining stateroom.

The boy jumped through the wall after him, but without the hanger. A thump on the wall suggested the girl had tried but failed at all clear. The boy swept the contents of a nightstand into the air, demonstrating a facile and impressive ability to control DHI 1.6. A Bible and a water glass flew at Philby, but passed through his projection.

“Come and get me,” he felt like saying, feeling fully in control of his hologram, having no worry he might cross back to the slightest degree.

He jumped in two strides and passed through the glass door and out onto the balcony. The boy followed, the two of them only a few feet apart.

“You want to test your control?” Philby said. He gestured over the banister. “Feel like a swim? I hear the water’s great.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it is,” the boy said. He upended a low table. It flew at Philby, but went through him.

“Nice try,” Philby said.

“I’ve got better,” the boy said.

“You’re on the wrong side. You understand that, right?”

“What’s more likely? That everything’s going to work out fine, like a fairy tale, or that stuff happens, bad stuff, and that’s just the way it is? The universe is not all sweet and pretty. Grow up. It’s total chaos.”

They moved in a slow circle like a pair of boxers. The boy had his back to the rail now. Philby needed to make sure his opponent slipped out of all clear.

“So you want a world with no imagination, no dreams? You want to take orders from a green-skinned, pointy-chinned fairy forever? Be my guest. Did you decide to come here on your own, or were you told to come here? Because let me tell you something: no one told me to go into that stateroom. That was my choice.”

Philby saw a flicker of light in the boy’s eyes. Maybe it was a trick of light playing off the glass, but maybe it was consideration and doubt, the kindling for the fire of fear. That was how he was going to play it.

The boy’s hologram filled with static interference likely caused by the balcony’s railing.

The girl suddenly appeared through the metal barrier that separated the small balconies. She seethed with anger—as destructive to a DHI as fear. Philby edged to his right, hoping to move the boy away from the projection interference. But the boy stood there, his image sparkling and spitting like bad television reception.

Unable to control her anger, the girl charged. Philby never flinched. She passed through him and smacked into the plate glass window behind him with a thud. He spun, found her wrist substantial enough to grasp, and whipped her toward her sparkling partner. The boy jumped out of the way—and out of the projection interference. The girl hit the rail, and Philby dumped her over the side. She fell a long distance and splashed into the turquoise water. The boy lunged, but Philby was ready for him. Philby ducked, using 2.0 to transform himself more solid, and stood just as the boy collided with him. Philby had the boy on his back like a fireman’s carry. He stood, turned, and leaned heavily back against the rail. The jolt sent the boy over the side, screaming on his way down. Philby watched as the boy bobbed to the surface. He and the girl were treading water.

A Dream life preserver flew through the air from a higher deck. An alarm sounded.

Philby’s hologram hurried through the plate glass and out into the hallway where Storey Ming waited, looking panicked.

“Ran into some friends,” Philby said, tucking in his shirt.

She took him by the hand and led him calmly down the hallway toward the bow.

“You feel cold,” she said, glancing down at his hand.

He’d never thought of it before. Couldn’t remember anyone touching his hologram but Overtakers.

Don’t let go, he wanted to say, enjoying the contact.

She caught him staring at her profile as they walked.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, embarrassed.





A seagull flew lazily above the beach as preparations for the Beach Blanket Barbecue got under way. A pink sun sank quickly beyond the horizon. The beach chairs were being wiped down; barbecue grills huffed gray smoke; the volleyball court was being raked; a hundred tiki torches were flickering with yellow flame. A stream of ship passengers was currently disembarking, the people having returned to shower and change for the festivities. The empty beaches would soon swell with guests; the steel-drum music would start. It was party time.