A VIAL OF PILLS

There was still no medical explanation for Monti’s illness, but the coughing had subsided, the color had returned to his skin, and his eyes had stopped drooping. Doc Trimble wanted to keep him under lock and key until he knew what was going on, but Monti had become unbearable with his incessant requests to be released from the hospital.

Against his better judgment, Doc Trimble signed Monti’s release papers. There was no real excuse to keep him, but Doc Trimble was sure Monti would be back. Monti, of course, went straight to work. To make up for lost time, he had his automated workforce laboring around the clock, but that only made things worse. The clockworks started to break down, and in Monti’s condition, he couldn’t fix them.

Harley was coming by after school and on the weekends, but it wasn’t enough. When he arrived at the workshop Saturday morning, he found Monti pale, feverish, and weak. Against Monti’s wishes, Harley had Jasper call Doc Trimble. The doctor was there within the hour.

“I want you to take these. They should help with the anxiety until things settle down a bit,” Trimble said, handing Monti a vial of pills.

“I don’t think so,” Monti said, handing the pills back to the doctor.

“If you keel over from a heart attack, you won’t be much use to any of us,” Trimble said. “So are you going to take them, or am I going to have to come here and stuff them down your gullet myself?”

“Fine.”

“Isn’t there someone who could help around here?”

“Not really,” Monti said.

“What about the boy?” Doc Trimble asked as he pointed his mechanical arm at Harley. He was standing at the docking bay watching a delivery truck back in.

“He’s brilliant, but he’s only twelve.”

“What does that matter? Does he have what it takes or doesn’t he?”

Monti sighed. “Yes.”

“Then you’ve found your solution,” Trimble said.

“What about his classes?”

“You let me take care of that.” With that, Trimble tipped his hat and walked out.

When Max showed up at the workshop, Monti was in his office taking a nap, and Harley was preoccupied with what looked like a pile of scrap metal.

“Are those more clockworks?” Max asked as Harley guided a robotic crane with a remote control. A magnetic arm lowered, grabbed hold of battered parts, and lifted it. Harley pushed another button, and the crane rolled along the ceiling tracks.

“It’s what’s left of the Mark Four armor after Oxley made me take it apart.”

“Are you serious?”

Harley sighed and hit another button, making the crane release the load. The metal clanked as it hit the floor.

“Wasn’t it in a scrap heap when Monti found it?” Max asked. “If he fixed it once, maybe he could fix it again.”

“Not in his condition,” Harley said as he put on a pair of gloves.

“You’re not kidding,” Monti said.

Max turned to see Monti leaning heavily on a cane. He was smiling, but it looked forced. His face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Harley asked.

“What do you think?” Monti asked, changing the subject. “Is it salvageable?”

Harley shrugged as he inspected the damage to a knee joint. “I’ll find a way to fix it.”

“I’m sure you will.” Monti turned his attention to Max. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than you.”

“That isn’t saying much.”

“I’m still kind of sore, but it could have been a lot worse,” Max said. “Logan said I’m lucky that I’m still alive.”

“Trust me, I already got an earful,” Monti said. “So from now on, I’ll be keeping the keys to all my toys locked safely in my office.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You did it to save Ernie,” Monti said. “So how could I be upset?”

“Thanks.”

“Speaking of Ernie, how’s he holding up?”

“Who knows?” Max said. “He still isn’t talking to us.”

“And the changelings aren’t talking to him,” Harley said. “They think he’s working for Von Strife.”

“That’s crazy,” Monti said.

Harley shrugged. “Ernie was the one who led them into the trap.”

“Making bad decisions is a lot different from sabotage,” Monti said.

“The only way Ernie is going to get off the hook is if we finish that scanner and find Hale.”

“After you, then,” Monti said.

Harley led them through a bank of steam. “By the way,” he said as they walked past the shooting range. “Your freeze ray is still jamming.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” Monti said.