Helen appeared like a blond streak and sneakers. Her flying kick made contact with Rocky's drone-scrap helmet, plastic shattered along with her front tooth. She teetered, and then toppled over.
Nick jumped to his feet. Nick and Company's security director, thirteen-year-old Helen Wendell had come, and he couldn't have been happier. She held her fists up, preparing for Rocky's resurgence. With a small turn of the head and a whip of her blond ponytail, she looked back to Nick. Helen wore her karate gi, which told Nick she had just come from one of her matches. Her refugee nanny-leash displayed a racing heart beat of 130 beats per minute and a life expectancy of 17.
Even though Helen was a refugee and spent most her time in combat clothes, most agreed she was the prettiest girl in Colorado Springs. It's like her bunched up fists and cold stare made her that much more gorgeous. What would she think if she knew Nick had a big crush on her back in the sixth grade? Not now, of course. Nick had moved on. He was pretty sure of that.
With no stirring from Rocky, Helen put a hand out to help Nick up.
"Hey, dummy," she said with a grunt as Nick got to his feet.
Nick stood, trying to ignore that they hadn't let get of each other's hands. It seemed Helen thought the same thing because she quickly pulled away.
She smacked a glob of mud off Nick's shoulder and corrected him, "Going up against Lord Bully is a great way to end up paralyzed from the neck down."
"I landed a few good punches." He shook his hair, whisking away the dirt. Nick gave Rocky his attention for a second to make sure she wasn't getting back up, and then continued with Helen, "How did you know we were going at it?"
"I didn't," Helen's eyes turned into slits in the way they usually did when she worried. "I couldn't find my sisters. Came down here to see if they wandered off."
"Been up at my house all day," Nick reassured. "They're getting ready for the party. You know, for the SpaceNow demonstration that we're totally going to crush."
"I don't have time to change for SpaceNow," Helen said. "Is it ok your security director is dressed like this?"
"Nick and Company encourages individuality," Xanthus said. "We like that stuff."
"Hi, Helen," Tim's voice cracked as he stumbled toward her. "How are you? How's life? Win any state championships? I bet you beat up all those girls. You're like a queen … of kung fu. A—a kung fu queen. Queen fu. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha." Tim's smile could swallow the Mississippi. He had been listening to Nick and Helen's conversation and clearly wanted to get in on it.
Helen tried to look anywhere but at him. "Hey, Tim."
"I'm great! Thanks for asking, Helen." Nick was sure Tim didn't ask how he was doing. "Um, yeah …" Tim's eyes danced around, desperate to hold onto the anemic conversation.
"The nannies!" A kid yelled.
From every footpath the nannydrones descended toward the refugees, appearing like ion powered ants after scraps of bread.
Nick saw a nannydrone hovering over Rocky with its multipurpose arm aimed at her. Her nanny-leash bracelet jerked up by what looked like an invisible string and she lifted into the air. In similar fashion, dozens of other refugees were ripped from the ground by their nanny-leashes and carried away like rag dolls. They were being taken to the camp's detention center.
"Come on!" Helen directed Nick.
At that moment a nannydrone flew directly at Helen. She tried to cover her wrist, but Nick knew a human hand couldn't block the drone's leashing technology. Before the nannydrone could reach her however, a rock smashed against it's headplate, sending it into a whirling dive. Nick caught an East Indian refugee girl raising her hands in triumph. Nick yelled "thank you" to the girl before they bolted for the wooden steps leading back to the workshed.