Free Project X-Calibur by Greg Pace

pushing between the rest of us to get at the food inside the cart.
    The tech brightened. On the matter of breakfast options, he had all the answers: “Pancakes and sausage, fruits, pastries, egg dishes with ham, cheese—”
    â€œI’m a vegetarian. Nothing with meat, please,” Tyler interrupted.
    â€œVegetarian?”
Kwan scoffed. “But you wrestle alligators and crocodiles.”
    â€œI wrestle them, I don’t eat them,” Tyler replied matter-of-factly. “There’s a difference.”
    As the tech handed Tyler a heaping plate of pancakes, fresh fruit, and a piping hot bowl of oatmeal, I looked to my left and noticed Darla standing outside her room, watching us. Her clothing boxes were stacked at her feet, and she was eating an omelet with hash browns.
    â€œMorning,” I said as I smiled to her. “Are the eggs good?”
    She hesitated a moment, then mumbled “fine” and stepped back into her room. Small talk obviously wasn’t her forte.
I guess that’s what happens when you become good enough at video games to be a world champion,
I thought.
    I turned to the tech. “One of everything you got, please. I’m starving.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    With our bellies full (me, Kwan, and Tyler had devoured enough to feed a family of sixteen, but Malcolm only had an apple, a banana, and skim milk), our official tour of headquarters began in a seemingly unending hallway. Even more intimidating than its length, the curved ceiling and walls seemed to gradually slope downward, leading deep below ground.
    On my right, Darla’s face looked pale as she stared down the length of the tunnel.
    â€œYou okay?” I whispered.
    â€œWorry about
yourself,
” she snapped. She resumed staring down the tunnel like it was the entrance to a haunted house.
    Next to me, Kwan gave me a nudge. “See? The chick has issues.”
    â€œPrepare for movement, knights,” Merlin announced. He and Pellinore were standing at the front of the group.
    Movement?
I braced myself, thinking we were about to drop through the floor again, but instead my feet almost slipped out from under me as the floor began to glide forward, like a giant conveyor belt.
    â€œSidewalk surfing,” Kwan grinned. “If only it moved faster.”
    Pellinore raised an eyebrow and barked an order into the air. “Initiate passenger bond and accelerate, please.”
    I felt a familiar magnetic pull in my feet and legs, and the floor suddenly
raced
forward with us fixed to it, soaring down the endless tunnel at sixty miles per hour as our hair blew everywhere. We approached the end of the main tunnel in about ten seconds, then made one dramatic turn after another. I cursed myself for eating so much earlier.
    â€œYee-ha!” Kwan shouted. Tyler had his eyes closed, and I think I actually heard him humming softly to himself, like he was trying to meditate. Darla didn’t look pale anymore. She looked
green.
And Malcolm was taking the ride in stride, ribbon still clutched in his hand, a little smile on his face as the wind blew past him.
    â€œDecelerate,” Pellinore ordered, and the moving floor slowly came to a stop. After a beep, we were no longer magnetized to the floor.
    â€œ
That
was one seriously sick ride,” Kwan gushed.
    Tyler grimaced and touched his belly. “Yeah. Sick.”
    We had stopped at an observation window that looked in on a massive room full of techs—dozens of men and women of various ages, all seated in front of holographic touch-screen monitors. Most of the displays focused on satellite images of muddy shapes and sinister-looking specks in outer space.
    â€œThis is where our techs monitor the aliens’ movements—speed, trajectories, anything and everything that’s pertinent,” Pellinore explained.
    I decided to finally ask a question that had been on my mind for a while now. “Do you and Merlin work for the