Omega City by Diana Peterfreund Page A

gibberish,” said Savannah.
    â€œRussian,” Howard corrected. “They use the Cyrillic alphabet—”
    â€œHow do you know that?” Eric asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. You read cosmonaut textbooks.”
    â€œThat’s a great idea. But, no, I just see a lot of Russian writing in space books in English. I’m working on my Mandarin, too, since the Chinese space program . . .”
    Oh, no. Here we go again. Why did everything have to be a five-part essay with him? The one good thing about getting back to the surface was that we wouldn’t have to deal with his weirdness anymore.
    â€œCan you read the instructions, Howard?” Nate broke in, frustrated. I was relieved I didn’t have to be the one to say it.
    â€œMaybe.” Howard stared down at the funny letters. “This one says close , and this one says up .”
    Why was there a Russian elevator in Dr. Underberg’s survival bunker? He was a Cold War scientist. He hated the Russians and thought they were going to start the war that would destroy the world. There was no reason he’d put any Russian technology here, unless . . .
    â€œWait,” I said, and my hand shot out to stop Howard.
    But it was too late. He pressed the buttons anyway. Again . Sure enough, the doors closed and the elevator started lifting.
    â€œPhew,” said Nate, slumping against the wall.
    I wasn’t relieved. I was furious. “Why did you do that?”
    â€œTo make us go up,” Howard said matter of factly.
    â€œDr. Underberg wouldn’t want to help any Russians who made it down here, not if he thought they were to blame for the bombs or the war or the plague or whatever.” I wanted to shake some sense into Howard, but I settled for stomping my foot against the metal floor and giving him a death glare.
    â€œUm, what are you saying?” asked Savannah, as the box lifted us higher and higher.
    â€œYeah, Gills,” said Eric, sounding panicked. “What are you saying?”
    â€œIf Russian spies made it to this place, he’d never want them to be able to get back up and tell people what they’d found here,” I argued as the elevator shot upward. “He’d try to kill them first.”
    Greetings, comrades.
    â€œOh,” said Howard.
    â€œNo,” added Eric.
    Nate cursed, again.

11
THE IMPOSSIBLE COMET
    THE MAN’S VOICE WAS NOT SO CHEERY THIS TIME. INSTEAD, IT WAS stern, scolding. Threatening.
    Your infiltration of Omega City has been noted. Steps will be taken to neutralize any damage you may have done during your visit, and/or any attempts you may make to alert our enemies to our presence. At the count of five, a canister of nerve gas will be released into this chamber. You will all be dead in thirty seconds.
    If you have received this message in error,please press the cancellation key now.
    â€œCancellation key!” Nate shouted. “Find it.” We all started frantically searching the control panel, as if the Cyrillic letters would suddenly make sense now that our lives were on the line.
    Five.
    â€œThis one says stop in Russian,” said Howard. “That’s similar to cancel.”
    â€œGood enough!” cried Nate.
    Four.
    â€œNo!” I screamed, yanking back his arm before Howard could push yet another button. “Just stop, Howard! Think! This is a trap built for Russians. Why would he make it something the Russians would do? That button will probably release the gas right away.”
    Three.
    â€œWhat are our options, Gills?” Eric asked as both the Nolands glared at me. “English speakers trapped in thisthing are just going to press random buttons. They have no idea what any of them say.”
    â€œWe’re going to die, we’re going to die,” breathed Savannah.
    Two.
    Random buttons. I stared at the panel. Exactly. I shoved Howard aside and slammed my whole arm against all the buttons, making sure to cover every