by Mary Weber
“Already done.”
Inola nodded. “Now to find Dr. Y—”
Her voice was drowned out by the sporty announcer shouting again. “So, what do you say we get this party pumped up by bringing out our remaining playaaaas? Dropping down from those sweet ropes before your very eyes onto platforms hanging midair are the teens here to take it all.” As he spoke, the final seven FanFight players were lowered by metal ropes from the overhead high beams. Slow enough for the audience to scream for each, as one by one the players’ faces and stats were flashed across the telescreens.
Inola’s handcomp buzzed in her jacket pocket. She ignored it and said louder in her com, “Let me know when you’ve located Dr. Yate.” Then flicked her gaze over to Ms. Gaines, who sat in the center of Inola’s Corp 30 cabana, a quarter of the coliseum over, in perfect eye alignment. The woman had paused from her chatting to stare at her with what looked to be surprise, irritation, and just a hint of fear, if Inola had to guess.
“Madam Inola, you should join us!” yelled the CEOs from Corps 5 and 9 as they walked by, heading into the UWC CEO cabana behind her.
Inola lifted a hand to decline just as the stadium was blasted by Favio’s voice rocketing through every inch of it. “FanFight friends, please hold on to your seatmates as the redo of round four in the United World Corporation Fantasy Fighting Games officially begins. Today, our players fight until only one remains. And tomorrow? That player goes on to the FanFight Final Five! The part of the Games where you choose which celebrities you want to place in the arena with our winning player. And those celebrities then decide if—”
He held out his hand and let the audience join him in yelling, “They’ll be fighters or failures!” before he continued. “Will they agree to fight and face death tomorrow? They will if they want to stay in our good favor! So get those votes in today!”
The seven players had unhooked from their ropes onto the platforms, which sat eye level from Inola. All young. All wearing their Corp trade colors on their black slim-suits and masks. All probably listening to instructions being given through their earcoms by their game-heads.
“Now that we’ve reminded you of what’s to come and reintroduced you to your main people for today,” the announcer screamed, “let’s get these FanFights staaaaarted.”
A swell of music followed as, below, the vast arena’s green-screen began to shift in the playing field below, morphing through various scenery—everything from cupcake wars to zombies to Atlantis and the avalanche ice world the audience had chosen in past fights. The crowd was deciding which environment the teams would battle in.
“We’ve located Dr. Yate. He’s just entered his space, five cabanas over. Would you like us to send him or—?”
“No, I’ll go.” Slipping away from the railing, Inola strode behind the cabana rows and out into the sun-drenched walkway where her guards and those of the other CEOs stood looking alert as always. Five spots down, she walked through a thick layer of shimmery curtains into a wide tent decorated in simple yet elegant taste. Two mink-brown couches. A white rug. And a self-manned minibar that served mainly bubbly water with essential oils procured at high cost.
On one of those couches sat the man who’d been both therapist and doctor to Inola’s children for the past seven years. Ever since their visit to Delon. “Inola! I’ve been trying to contact you.” Dr. Yate rose and extended a hand. “How are you? How’s Sofi? Have you heard from her?”
“I’ve not. Which is why I’m here.”
“I imagine today must’ve been especially tough for you, my dear. This whole weekend, in fact. I don’t envy you, Inola.” He smiled sympathetically.
“Thank you, but I’m not here as a patient. Just with a question.”
Yate beckoned her to the couch. “In that case, my cabana is secure.”
Inola swiped her handscreen anyway to elicit a white noise perimeter, then took a seat before turning and dropping her voice. “Lord Ethos has indicated they’ve realized Sofi’s and Shilo’s possibilities and has just made it clear he will not play by the rules. It’s also been rumored they took Shilo after the explosion, seizing the opportunity they’d already been looking for to reacquire them.”
The therapist stared. “How—?”
“I need to know, what exactly do you think Sofi will do?”
He softened his voice. “Inola. I think the first question is how you could have let this happen. You know what Sofi is capable of. Even just being there will trigger memories—”
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“Not to mention”—Yate’s voice fell even lower—“she may be the key to their rebirth, but she’s also a weapon. And now she’s been unknowingly handed over to the very—”
Inola uttered a harsh chuckle. “You of all people should know I’ve no control over my daughter. What’s done is done. The question now is—what will she do? Will she step into who she is?”
Yate paused long enough to shift back to professional mode. “We don’t even fully understand your children’s abilities. Can she be a powerful weapon against them? Yes.” He looked down at the arena. “She could bring them to their knees if she wanted. Both of them could. And we both know she would. But if you’re asking if she’ll figure out how to do it before they figure out how to use her . . .”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. We’ve not done enough real-life training. Although I’m inclined to agree with the look on your face—which I’m assuming is that, either way, we should all be afraid your daughter’s gone there to get her brother. What she finds there won’t be good.”
He waited for Inola to absorb this before adding, “But what do you mean Lord Ethos will no longer play by the rules? What is he intending?”
Inola’s mind flickered to that look on Ambassador Miguel’s face as he tried to say something. As if he was about to say everything. The look that said they didn’t even know the half of what was about to come down.
“Tell me about Ambassador Miguel. He’s up there with Sofi and the other members. Where will his leanings be?”
The doctor’s countenance showed surprise, followed by deep thought as he looked out over the Colinade. “Miguel’s an interesting one. Two years ago I would’ve said he’s for whatever would best serve him. However, some of his mannerisms and choices, as I’ve watched him since then, have led me to believe that despite whatever persona he portrays in public, something’s changed—an inner transformation that’s inclined him toward truth. I believe if he has enough information on this situation, he’ll be inclined to protect Sofi and Shilo. Why do you ask?”
“So he’d be able to help them then?”
“I don’t know. All I can guess is he’d likely try.”
Inola held her breath at that. “And how do we ensure he does?” she finally asked.
The therapist studied Inola. Almost clinical. Calculating. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Pardon?”
He laced his fingers in his lap and said quietly, “What Miguel does will be of his own conviction. And what Sofi does or doesn’t do is entirely up to Sofi. It will lie in her ability to decide that she is enough and that she doesn’t need more to become what she already is. Unfortunately, that’s not . . .”
His voice trailed off, but Inola understood. That wasn’t something Sofi had ever heard from either of them.
The linen cabana curtains rustled in the breeze and the air turned chilly. Inola nodded. “Thank you, Yate.” Then rose and saw herself out.
“Just let me know when you’re ready,” Jerrad said in her com.
She nodded. She’d done what she came for. She’d stay another minute to keep face, then quietly slip away.
As she strode back toward the CEO cabana, she peered down to find the FanFight’s green-screen arena still shifting. Choosing a scene setting is taking longer than usual.
Then she glanced back over to where her vice president, Gaines, was chatting away, clearly recovered from Lord Ethos’s con
ference call and Inola’s surprise appearance. Looking warm with her swarm of senators and VPs, her expression suggesting she was past greasing the political wheels. The woman was flatout flaunting.
Gutsy.
Idiotic.
She frowned and let the thought go as the epic music continued to soar, drowning out the audience-gone-wild until the arena below suddenly buzzed and the green-screen locked into its official setting.
“Annnnnd the audience has spoken!” the announcer said. “Roman coliseum for the win! Shall we count them down? Ten, nine, eight . . .”
“About time the audience voted an old history round,” she heard someone in the CEO tent say. “My bet is changed. I guarantee Corp 13’s got it in the bag on this.”
“I’ll take that wager. Where’s Hart? How much you offering to be wrong?”
The CEOs laughed again and secured their investments while Inola pursed her lips, watching the arena fill in as the seven players were lowered down into the first section where gladiators and lions were appearing beside a grouping of D&D howlers.
“. . . three, two, one! And the players are at it—facing the host of gladiators first!”
The teens took off in the arena. The music ended. The crowds screamed out the names of their FanFight favorites. An image of Shilo fighting down there flashed into her mind, followed by him fighting for his life up on Delon—however that looked.
Stop, Inola. If Sofi believed Shilo was alive, then she’d have to hold on to that.
Because Sofi of all people would know.
Inola’s handcomp buzzed for the third time in her pocket and she finally slipped it out.
Nice job on the performance in front of the crowd. Very convincing.
Her chest froze. Who is this?
Same as before. Doesn’t matter.
“Jerrad, can you hack backward through my handscreen?” she said softly. “The texts are coming through again.”
“Got it. Keep them on.”
What do you want? she typed.
Nothing . . . yet.
Who are you? What do you want?
But just like three hours ago, the screen blanked. “Did you get that?” she asked.
“Whoever it is knows what they’re do—”
Her handscreen buzzed again. She swiped at it but nothing was there. She swiped again and tapped as a feeling of frantic annoyance invaded her calm. Until she suddenly became aware of a presence staring at her.
She looked over to find Hart now in Corp 30’s cabana, seated beside Gaines in deep conversation.
He wasn’t looking at her. Neither was Gaines. Yet she could still feel a set of eyes drilling into her skin.
A throat cleared behind her.
11
SOFI
The dark veil dropped off Sofi’s eyes to reveal she was now in a large, luxurious room that felt claustrophobic with large pieces of red-and-silver furniture. Mainly of the sitting variety. She squinted as her gaze twitched, as if adjusting to the abrupt brightness.
Delonese Lead Ambassador Ethos stood six inches away. Staring her in the face in a robe so silvery it did something eerie to his skin—making him look shinier. Faker. Much like the rest of the room.
She blinked.
“Aw, Girl-Sofi!” he exclaimed, and stepped back. “I must say, it’s no wonder the humans love you. Hunting you was quite the game.”
She frowned and pulled back to peer around him at Ambassador Danya standing calmly on the black-and-silver floor above all twenty children she’d helped rescue not two hours ago.
Sofi froze.
They were here. Alive and in this room with Danya, who was the only Delon citizen to make her permanent home on Earth for the past many years. Oddly, with her high cheekbones and well-practiced blinking eyes, the woman looked more human than Delonese. Sofi swallowed and tried not to appear overly emotional as her lungs burst and broke around her heart at the sight of her and the children. Their faces looked dazed.
She turned to Ethos. “Where’re the rest of them? Where are Claudius, Miguel, and my brother?”
“All in good time. All in good time, my dear.”
“You may not have much of that, so I suggest you answer my question. Where are they?”
“Oh, come now, we’ve no need for such measured threats. At least not this early in the round.” He flicked a wrist and waved off the peacekeepers who’d stepped toward her. “But please, join Ambassador Danya and the children in making yourself comfortable.”
Sofi assessed the floor cushions he was beckoning her to and didn’t move.
This wasn’t the Ethos she’d been around yesterday. His looks and voice were the same, but his personality was unsettlingly different. More vibrant. Friendlier. Shinier. Just like his robe and the richness of the room with its thick black metallic lace hanging from the ceiling and the giant window drawing the eyes out across the fog. It all looked like an electric telescreen that’d been tuned too high.
It made her mind itch.
“No, thank you, I’ll stand.” She let her gaze follow him before she turned discreetly to the back of the room to inspect the eyes boring into her. Ten tall Delonese stood silent along the wall in robes so silver they reflected the strange designs etched into the heated floor. They were watching. Assessing. Sofi eyed them until one of the aliens shifted his gaze from her forehead to connect with hers. His brow widened and then he tipped his head with a frown.
Huh. Whatever his problem was, it made Sofi’s skin just about crawl off her body. She turned away to find the kids situating themselves between her and Ethos, in oddly perfect rows.
That weird smile loomed as he strolled to the center of the window. “Well, suit yourself. We won’t be long anyway. My hope is simply to ‘clear the air,’ as the humans say, by assuring you of our gracious understanding regarding your curiosity about our planet. Although your discovery of the fact that it’s a space station is most unfortunate. But we can certainly work with it.”
“Curiosity. Like harvesting body parts?” Sofi said dryly. She brushed her shoulder against her ear at a slight buzzing that’d picked up. Like a wasp stuck in her head. She pretended to crack her neck just to shake it off. No use. It stayed.
The ambassador’s gaze shifted to the kids at his feet. “Body parts? I see nothing of the sort here.”
“She’s not a fool,” Danya whispered. “You know quite well what the girl meant.”
“And that is my point.” The alien approached Sofi across those silver spiral designs carved into the black flooring and held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “The only ones anyone has ever seen alive are the children we’ve cured and sent home. Like Sofi here when she was younger. The fact that a few of my people were secretly using them for anything more than healing their bodies and creating new methods of medicine is only a small part of it. And, of course, a most appalling one, I agree. In the future they’ll stick to growing organs strictly from cells.”
“A few? You have hundreds down there. Possibly thousands—feeding an army of your own making. And don’t tell me those are all grown from harvested cells.” Sofi shook her head. Was he saying he didn’t know how many there were? Or was he just minimizing the reality of them?
Danya shot her an unreadable expression. Like muted horror.
“Aw, but that is my point.” He shrugged. “Who can know? As I said, what’s done is done, but we’ll not allow it again.”
“Yes, that would make more sense,” one of the children said in a too-calm voice. “Lord Ethos wouldn’t let it happen again.”
What? Sofi turned.
The other children were nodding, relief surfacing on their small faces.
They couldn’t honestly believe him.
“I can assure you all”—Ethos peered down at the kids—“the culprits for such atrocities have already been caught and dealt with severely. They are no longer with us, and their experiments are being destroyed as we speak.”
Sofi actually laughed. What a crock. She w
aved at the kids. “They’re not going to trust you.”
“Spoken by the girl who, in fact, betrayed Delon’s trust just today.”
“What trust was that?” Danya’s tone showed the same confusion as Sofi felt.
“Girl-Sofi managed to access our security systems. I’m sure I don’t need to tell any of us how impossible, let alone unsafe, such an act is.”
The ambassador flashed another smile and glanced at the ten Delonese still standing silent along the back wall. And gave a slight nod. Then to the twenty children who were all staring, he clapped his hands quick-like. “Come, shall we leave this stuffy space? For dinner perhaps? Why don’t you follow me?”
The room filled with a wave of small voices, begging and interested as the kids clamored to the door where Lord Ethos ushered them all into a narrow hallway. His robe swished around him in a hiss as he strode from the room, like a snake.
She looked back at the ten Delonese who’d quietly slid from their spot along the wall and stood waiting for Sofi to follow their leader. She bit her lip. Don’t lose your nerve. Listen and learn until the time is right, Sof. Then turned and plowed after Ethos and the kids because she wasn’t about to leave them alone with him.
They entered a narrow tunnel made of opaque metal, their footsteps thumping softly as her gaze strayed to Danya. “Is it just me or does this all feel like a false set on one of our i-reality shows?”
Danya offered an odd smile and went to reply when one of the children fell back to wait for Sofi, asking, “How did you access their servers, Sofi? Was it really that possible?”
“Don’t answer,” the voice that sounded like Shilo’s said in her head.
She frowned. Of course she wasn’t going to answer. Not only because she wasn’t inclined to give the Delonese any information, but also because she’d never had to explain it before—and thus had no idea how. Like most gamers, she just knew.
She patted the child on the head, then peered behind her. The ten Delonese were following.