Reclaiming Shilo Snow

by Mary Weber

  “No more doctors, please,” the little one whimpered.

  “What is going on?” a doctor asked, rounding the corner.

  Miguel strode forward. “Ambassadors Claudius and Danya are here to explain and assist you. Take the children’s names, take their stories, take videos, and make sure they’re physically seen to. And you will do it in the most unfrightening way possible,” he added. “They’ve been through enough.” He ignored the UW woman’s shocked expression and looked at Claudius. “You got it from here?”

  His friend’s only response was to nod with a “Go do it,” before carrying the two kids clinging to his neck into the exclusive presidential suite patients’ room while saying to the quickly growing assembly of med personnel, “Look, I know it’s a lot to process right now, but we’ll walk you through it.”

  A trail of the rest of the children followed, with Miguel and Shilo bringing up the tail.

  “And, sir.” Miguel turned back to a nurse at the door. “I’ve ordered my own security team to escort them while in here. No one—and I mean no one—is to have access to these kids other than myself, these ambassadors here, or my team. Is that understood?”

  The nurse nodded—probably more in shock than clarity.

  “Good.” Miguel strode from the room and grabbed Sofi’s hand. “You ready?”

  She nodded as one of the doctor’s voices echoed into the hall: “So, tell me again what exactly is going on with these children?”

  Miguel didn’t wait for Claudius’s response. Just took a last glance at the kids before heading to the elevator with Sofi and Shilo. When they reached the bottom floor, they strode out to find the hover Vic had sent. And in its backseat, the backpack of handscreens and earcoms Vic had arranged for.

  Miguel handed them their coms. “Vic should already be on. Sofi, do you want to pull up Ranger?”

  “I still don’t see why we don’t show up at the FanFights in the shuttle,” Shilo said, taking his.

  Sofi was already adjusting her slim-suit to reconnect it with their tech. “Because that thing is hinky to fly—and I’d rather not draw attention until we’ve assessed the situation from the ground.”

  Shilo snorted. “Says the girl who just showed up in an airship over Manhattan in the middle of the FanFight Games.”

  32

  INOLA

  “Corp heads, delonese leaders, peacekeepers, media, and highly respected friends.” The announcer’s voice rang out across the Colinade levels and echoed up from the vast arena Inola was standing over. “As well as friends of friends, friends of mine, and friends with benefits.”

  As if to accentuate his words, the long, thin red tendril banners snapped in the breeze along the thirteen Colinade levels.

  Unfortunately for Favio, the audience’s response was as thin as his voice. Muted. Hesitant. As if this bizarre scenario, with its unconventional selection of players, was thrilling, yes, but also suddenly a tad uncomfortable as they faced the reality of seeing the contestants standing midair on their platforms. Inola licked her lips and kept her head high as she stared out at the faces she’d tirelessly served for the past twelve years. Had she been perfect? No. Had she unintentionally betrayed some? Yes.

  But she’d been there. And she’d tried to do right by them, even when she’d missed it.

  “Welcome to the event you’ve all been waiting for,” the announcer continued with a little more flourish. “The culmination of every FanFight week. The Fantasy Fighting Games’ Final Five!” His voice rose forcibly as if to incite more excitement. “The part of the Games in which the final player—the last of thirty contenders to survive the arena—faces off against four brand-new challengerrrrs! Are we ready for it?” he suddenly screamed, effectively breaking the tension.

  This time the audience responded with shouts of their own, followed by applause.

  The announcer smiled wide into the camera lens. “I thought so. Especially since those challengers are of your choosing—from professionals to i-reality victors!” His tone dropped low, into a confidential style, as he leaned forward and flashed his crooked smile. “And for the first time ever in our short FanFight history, you’ve requested the unthinkable. Two Corporation CEO leaders plus an ambassador who, as you know, isn’t even on this planet, and last but not least, everyone’s favorite i-reality star—Nadine!”

  He cocked an eyebrow at the camera. “I mean, leave it to you all to push the envelope on what’s acceptable.”

  Hysterical applause charged the crowd with a visceral sense of approval. As if endorsement had been given that they had done their duty after all, and that they were simply upping the value on entertainment.

  The telescreens zoomed in on Favio again as he smiled and said, “You’re welcome, World.” Earning himself a whole new burst of laughter and another snap of those red banners.

  “Speaking of pushing it—my researchers just submitted a set of stats that say the probability of surviving this game is only 20 percent. Which leaves me to question—what challenges have you all chosen?”

  Another entertained roar.

  On the platform beside Inola, Nadine suddenly shifted, and for a moment Inola worried the poor thing might faint. Until someone started a wave in the crowd, and almost the entire coliseum of ten thousand people swirled in one smooth, circular swell of colorful hands and faces. Only those in the upper stands looked put off. Which would make sense. Inola had sent a few of those invites herself this morning.

  “Unfortunately, Ambassador Alis is unable to be with us today. So I vote she owes us for next time, what do you say? Yes? Yes! Perfect! And now to get on with the Games. Allow me to introduce you to your four FanFight contenderrrrs!”

  Pop! Pop! Pop! Inola jumped as the lights beneath her platform ignited in fire. She grabbed one of the side ropes for support, forgetting she also had one currently secured to her vest.

  Behind her, Corp 13’s teen player uttered a soft chuckle. Inola ignored it and searched for Ranger’s face behind the glass down below, in the tech area, Room 5. There. She gave a slight exhale of relief to see him behind the glass, staring intently. He raised a discreet thumbs-up to her, then to Nadine.

  Inola nodded. “Don’t let us down, kid. This only works if I win.”

  “That moment you realize your life is in the hands of a geek who literally spends his days in a place called Mom’s Basement,” Nadine murmured.

  “Hey, don’t knock the hired help, babe.” Ranger snickered through their earcoms. “And I’ve got this. We’ve tapped an AI named Vic, and I’ve got a host of worldwide gamers already hacking in. Just try to stay alive and don’t lose your spine while we disable the opponents. We’ll do the rest.”

  Inola was tempted to smile her gratitude but couldn’t. Her hands were shaking. She stared down at them as the epic music blasted through the Colinade. She’d not shaken that way since her first time addressing the United World Council as Corp 30’s freshly elected CEO. And yet, here she was, never more out of place in her life. The irony of which was almost humorous, considering she’d helped create it.

  The announcer was going over their names and histories. She waved and tried to appear as if she wore this skintight slim-suit of her son’s with the same confidence she’d expected of him through the years. Then purposefully swung her gaze up to CEO Hart and, beside him, Gaines. Both of whom were coyly not even facing the arena as they entertained guests in her Corp 30 cabana. Including Ambassador Alis’s Icelandic Region counterpart, Senator Finn. From their body language she’d bet anything he was the individual they’d chosen to try to weasel in for Corp 24’s soon-to-be-vacant CEO seat.

  Inola narrowed her gaze.

  Already at home. Already blatant in their victory.

  Her gaze moved on to Lord Ethos’s still-empty cabana. Where are my kids, Ambassador?

  There was a cough and she peered over at Corp 24’s VP, Zain—standing on the platform to her left. Poor guy. He actually looked brave and excited—like he might have a fighting ch
ance to win. He peeked over and tried to wink, but the light in his eye wavered, giving away his admission of what they both knew. That they were alive now. But one slipup or missed observation and they wouldn’t be.

  However the accidents were preplanned to take her and the others out—if successful, the perpetrators would be seamless and above suspicion.

  Her eyes moved to Ambassador Ethos, who’d finally appeared. He offered her a broad smile as he and three other Delonese entered their cabana.

  Inola tightened her lips and nodded.

  Well, they’d managed to do what no one else had dared in the past fifteen years. She’d give them that.

  They’d managed to outmaneuver her.

  Almost.

  “You’ll release that vid to the attorney general before Nadine’s interview goes live?” she muttered to Ranger.

  “Loaded and waiting.”

  She looked back at Ethos. Where are my kids, you fool? “And you and your friends will keep scanning for Sofi and Shilo?”

  Whatever his answer was, the soaring music drowned it out as the crowd’s cheering echoed off the arena walls. The massive green-screen below her and the other three contestants rumbled, and suddenly the mirrored top that covered the field slipped away to reveal their first fight scenario.

  Inola froze. They had to be kidding.

  It was the exact same water landscape as when the bomb exploded here last week.

  The same drone sharks. Same danger. Same crystal-clear water.

  She peered down ever so slightly to the FanFight gamer rooms. Was that tech, Ranger, seeing this?

  “Well, that’s kind of poetic,” Nadine said.

  “Kind of appropriate,” murmured the Corp 13 player.

  A rustle from the platform on Inola’s left side yanked her attention up. Zain had hunched over. Inola frowned. No one had touched him. He’d just been standing there. “VP Zain? Are you okay?”

  He wasn’t. She didn’t need a doctor to tell her that the slight fringe of yellow foam around his lips wasn’t from stress. Someone had gotten to him.

  It didn’t matter—there wasn’t time. The music had blared and stopped, and Zain pushed himself back up.

  The announcer and audience were counting down to the drop.

  Inola braced as her earcom buzzed while Ranger adjusted it. “Ranger, Zain is down,” she whispered.

  “We know,” a girl said in her com. “We’re going to try to help him.”

  Inola stalled.

  Then frowned. That voice.

  “Hello?” she whispered again.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  An involuntary cry slipped from Inola’s lips at her daughter’s voice.

  “And, Mom, I found Shilo—he’s safe and here too.”

  Inola swung around to find them, to see them. Across the arena. Through the stands.

  There they were. Sofi flashed a handscreen thirty feet in front of her. And Shilo—

  “I’m four to the right of Ambassador Ethos’s cabana.”

  “Does he know?” Inola’s eyes hazed over, tears blinding her vision as his messy brown head waggled in watery view.

  “Not a clue. We’re monitoring the tech around him.”

  She straightened and swallowed. And smiled. “Sofi, how’d you guys get here?”

  Tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

  “Mom, did you know Shilo and I can control all of their technology?”

  TOCK.

  33

  SOFI

  Sofi inhaled and watched her mom standing on the black platform midair, fighting to regain control of her emotions alongside Nadine and the two others from 24 and 13 as the kid from 13 looked elated. Of course he did. There was no way he couldn’t win.

  A twinge of an ache filled her, for her mom who’d been a corporate goddess. Who’d cured cancer and created lives as well as ruined them. Who’d given her own children over to a cause—only to have that cause become bigger than she’d fathomed.

  She stood looking so frail. So human. And the expression on her face said she was bravely terrified. Sofi swore her own icecrusted heart chipped just a smidge.

  “Sofi, did Ethos bring you, or did you come in spite of him?”

  “He didn’t bring us. But he’ll wish he killed us.”

  “Good.”

  She scowled and glanced over at Ethos with his attendants—in his Delonese cabana seven spaces over from her. Then winced as a spike of heat stabbed through her skull. Cripe. What the—? Delon had identified her neurological fingerprints. They knew she was the hacker, and she was on Earth about to expose their secrets.

  And they were not happy.

  “Fourteen . . .” The crowd was counting to the drop with the announcer. “Thirteen . . .”

  “Sofi, focus,” Shilo said. “Deal with that later.”

  Right. Sofi cleared her mind, only to feel her stomach roll as she re-eyed her mom’s surroundings. She’d never watched it live from this perspective before—from in the stands just above the gamer quarters. It was weirdly magnificent, with a full view of all thirteen levels, the telescreens, and the entire arena. Including her mom, who was about to drop into the pool of shark-infested water.

  “Mom, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I think it’s a little late to back out now,” her mom said with a nervous chuckle.

  Sofi moved her gaze to scan the telescreens.

  Her frown deepened.

  Something about this whole thing . . .

  “Ten . . .”

  It wasn’t just who was fighting, but the way the audience was behaving.

  The faces. The discomfort she’d seen that’d morphed into raging excitement and thirst begging for—what? Did they know they’d not just get entertainment today, but were bound to get some blood on their hands? At least Corp 24’s.

  Gaines and Hart knew, and they were in the Corp 30 cabana practically soaking in it.

  A run of close-up shots kept flashing from screen to screen of the stands higher up—the cheap seats where the occupants didn’t look nearly so pleased. Some looked angry. Frustrated. As if this fight was giving them voice to resist the aliens or politics or the companies that simultaneously provided for the poor while keeping them down. Sofi peered closer at their faces, only to realize she recognized many from the black markets.

  She swerved her gaze to her mother. Had she allowed them in? Had she invited them? “Range,” she said quietly. “What’s with the upper levels?”

  “Inola and Nadine thought if they were going to make a showing, it’d do the world good to see the nameless faces the world has forgotten. Vic sent out the invites.”

  “Seven . . .”

  Sofi’s throat swelled. The response from the cabana crowd ricocheted off the gaming windows, swift and loud, cheering—as if to drown out the voices seated above them. To shut down their complaints and anger.

  Sofi stared. She’d thought the aliens would be the death of everyone on Earth. But something told her she just might be wrong. She glanced at her mother, then Gaines and Hart again.

  Maybe humans would.

  “Good grief, Sof, focus,” Shilo said in her head.

  Clenching her jaw, she shook it off and caught his eye. Then recentered on her mom. “Got it. I’m here.”

  Slipping on a pair of earbuds she’d found in Ranger’s bag, she swiped on her scrapp music from her handscreen. Then lifted her thoughts and spread them until they bumped into Shilo’s. “Ready?”

  “Two . . .”

  “I’ve got Mom. You’re good,” Shilo thought back.

  She nodded and mentally set to work slipping her way into the tech-firewalls below and the Delonese nanobots they utilized. And opened up a portal to all four gamer systems.

  The countdown ended.

  The black platforms dropped.

  34

  MIGUEL

  The Audience’s roar shook the marble beneath Miguel’s feet.

  CEO Inola hit the water the same moment as Nadine and Zain,
landing in a fifty-foot tank of shark-infested water.

  Anyone else bothered at how sick the irony in that setting is? Claudius messaged from his station with the kids at the UW Med Center. Man, even I wouldn’t have voted for that.

  It’s why the audience chose it. The horror and inappropriate taste of it only made it all the more exciting. Miguel’s eyes rescanned Sofi’s and Shilo’s surroundings.

  A commotion erupted in the pool, and Miguel dropped his gaze to where the Corp 13 kid, Matthers, was already halfway to the bottom. The three adults hadn’t even gotten their bearings.

  Matthers sliced a shark with his blade, drawing blood to attract the other drones, then kicked and swam faster.

  A roar went up from the audience. It’s why they loved the finals. Seeing the leaders and superstars who were masters of their own arenas put to the test on a more even playing field was part of the entertainment. It brought the rich and famous down a few notches—made them more human. And more beatable.

  “Gross,” muttered Vic in Miguel’s com.

  Shilo stood beside Miguel now, issuing instructions into Inola’s earcom. “Mom, head for the bottom, but move to your left. Watch the tail on that one—it’ll sting. Ranger, I think Zain and Nadine should just shadow each other and follow Mom’s and Matther’s lead. If they fight for the—”

  Sofi took over. “Vic, add weight to Mom’s suit and get her down there faster. Then have two of the game-team zero in on Matther’s boots. I hacked the code so they should be able to turn on the air in them and get him to float. Have the rest attack the scenery programs. I can get them in only so far before my brain can’t balance it all. Shi and I are still trying to keep the Delonese channels stable.”

  Miguel peered over at Ethos. According to Sofi and Shi, the tech interference they’d run meant he’d have no idea they were here until they wanted him to.

  “Careful, guys,” Vic suddenly said. “Watch the landscape.” Another roar of the crowd and the fight scene was suddenly changing. Miguel ran a hand across his neck. This was new. They rarely altered a scenario midlevel. But two of the gamers had chosen to morph the setting—and the voting audience had allowed it.