ONE IF BY LAND, TWO IF BY SUBMARINE

CHAPTER 7

Querishi led the way along a metal walkway toward the transport. Kep hung back with Max and Tela, giving T.J. as much time as possible to get situated in his hiding spot. T.J.'s theory that his last-minute ban was a ruse, that Annie and Querishi secretly expected him to sneak to the competition, seemed convoluted. But he'd trust T.J. Acting stuff was his world. Kep preferred the world of swimming. Crystal-clear expectations. When the coach says forty laps freestyle, you don't question if she secretly wants you to do the backstroke. No one sneaks into meets. Definite rules. Effort alone makes or breaks you. A much better world. At least to him.

"Stop dawdling!" Querishi, a good thirty feet ahead, called back. 

Kep had enough experience with ticked-off coaches to tell when an adult neared blowing a gasket, so when Max veered off into a random open door, he didn't want his brother to get blasted by Querishi for the extra holdup.

"Max." Kep poked his head in. His brother stood staring at a class- room sized whiteboard covered with squiggles, arrows, letters and numbers. "Querishi looks pretty aggravated already—"

Ceiling turbines kicked on, creating so much noise Max didn't hear, or couldn't be bothered to respond.

"I'll go ahead," said Tela, brushing past Kep. "I want to ask Querishi about vegan options in"—Tela held up finger quotes—"Boston 1775."

Kep stepped into the room and approached his brother. "Max." 

Max twisted from the board, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "This algorithm... It's a time travel formula! Like the one Dad's working on. But with different vectors. Maybe they really are sending us back in time!"

Nice drama, T.J. would say. The formula stuff must be a stage prop and Max was playing it up for the cameras, shining eyes and all. Genuinely impressive.

"The transport isn't a taxi that waits!" Querishi appeared at the door, her shoulders rigid.

"Sorry!" Kep grabbed a marker from the whiteboard and gave Max a gentle shove out of the room. "Couldn't find a pen. Figured we should take notes for the mission."

Max followed obediently, a far-off look in his eyes. 

"You'll be given detailed instructions." Querishi followed them out and slammed the door. "No more detours!"

Tela waited by the transport farther down the walkway. She waved an apology. But it wasn't her fault Querishi had come to find them. Who could listen to one of her food rants for more than thirty seconds anyway? 

As Querishi stalked ahead, Max tugged on Kep's sleeve and whispered, "That equation—I think it could work! Being at the revolution! Imagine that! It's better than T.J.'s movie idea!"

Kep looked at his brother in surprise. "You know this is all pretend, right? Tooth Fairy kind of stuff."

"Mmmmm." Max picked up his pace toward the transport. 

What kind of answer was 'mmmm'? At least his brother sounded excited instead of nervous. Why pop his bubble? Despite all the weirdness, they were about to start. And hopefully, win. Then he could go home—to Mom and Dad, to Grandpa Westguard, to normal life: flushing toilets, taking Piper for long walks, chlorinated pools, and pizza, though Tela may have permanently wrecked his ability to enjoy pepperoni and sausage toppings.

Overhead speakers crackled. "Report to launch stations." 

Mule followed Turner along another walkway toward them. Soon, the whole group stood outside the transport.

"We will begin final launch sequence in T-minus thirty minutes and counting." The electronic voice sounded again.

"Criminy!" Mule craned his neck. "What the heck is this place? Turner is being all closed-mouth about it."