Nyxia

by Scott Reintgen

  In spite of the pitch black, we find the first mound of the big rock their boat is gripping. Azima runs into the back of my legs as I trace the lightless scene for anything odd, but it’s useless. Too dark. We keep crawling. I hear fabric snag on a rock behind me and freeze. We all wait like statues, but nothing happens. Three more meters and we’re at the edge of the rock. A glance over reveals the deep shadow of their boat. I reach out and touch it just to be sure. Holding my breath, I crawl back in the opposite direction. Roathy and the others are flat on their stomachs. I make sure the angles are right and set my flashlight on the back of Azima’s boot heel. I flash a handheld light twice and flatten again.

  We hear the faintest sound of our ship’s engine. Jazzy guessed one minute to get around the lip and into the strait at their slowest speed. I count the seconds as shadows shift.

  “All right, Azima. We’ll all climb up the side,” I whisper. “But you’re making the grab.”

  “On the back of the captain’s chair, yes?” she asks.

  “Yes.” There’s a soft engine thrum on our left. “Thirty seconds.”

  Green dots blossom above us. I blink a few times.

  “What are those?” Azima whispers.

  We watch them swirl in the air like fireflies.

  “They look like eyes,” Isadora says.

  Genesis 12 descends. Something heavy crushes me against stone. My arms get pulled back and someone ties off my hands. The others struggle, but not for long. We’re all pinned to the rock face and gagged before we can cry a warning. Their headgear glows with enough light to see the features beneath. Anton stands above us, his hair slicked back with wet.

  “We have the ducklings,” he whispers. “Now we get the goose.”

  The green glow of their gear fades as they slip back to their boat. We watch the shadows vanish over the lip. A second later, they release their suction and splash down into the water. The boarding party takes our crew easily. Our flag is claimed. The lights click back on and we wait as Anton and Omar take their time removing our bindings. Morning orders her crew to undo their nyxian transformations before we can get a look at the night goggles they used.

  Longwei and the others look up at us, confused about what happened. All we can do is shrug back as Defoe and Requin appear on the platforms above. They lead everyone through a side hatch. We walk by one too many scoreboards on the way back, one too many reminders of how we’ve failed.

  “This isn’t working,” Katsu says heatedly. “I mean, no offense, Emmett, but we haven’t won once with you as the captain. Tonight was awful. Just awful. They always have a plan.”

  “If you had such a great plan, why didn’t you share it?” I fire back.

  “Because I’m the driver, not the captain. You’re supposed to come up with the ideas.”

  The other members of our crew have stopped walking. Genesis 12 passes by, and Anton claps for us. “Another valiant effort! Keep at it, you guys!”

  Katsu starts after him, but Longwei and Jaime grab him. When Genesis 12 is out of sight, he rounds on me instead. “This isn’t working,” he repeats.

  “We’ve been close,” I say hotly. “Every time. If you just give me a few more days—”

  “Close isn’t winning,” Katsu says. “Look, it doesn’t even matter that much to me. I’m going to Eden. But the rest of you need to figure it out. They’ve won eighteen straight. That’s fifty-four thousand points. If we keep losing, you’re gone. End of story.”

  He storms off. I look at the others. Jaime gives me an apologetic look but says nothing to defend me. Even Bilal is avoiding eye contact. I decide to wash my hands of it.

  “If that’s what you want, vote in someone else,” I say. “I don’t care.”

  I stand there, heated, as the others walk away. I feel left behind, pissed off by their rejection, and halfway buried by the scoreboard. Loche’s gaining on me with my every failure. I take a few minutes to cool off before following after the others. I just need to sleep it off. We all do. Maybe they’ll realize in the morning how close we’ve been to winning.

  Raised voices catch my attention. I thought the others were long gone, but an argument crashes its way from one of the side corridors and echoes through the main hallway. I follow the voices until the words, and the two people fighting, are clear as day.

  “You act like I’m not trying,” Roathy accuses.

  Isadora’s voice is quieter, but far fiercer too.

  “Are you trying? I don’t know. It’s like you quit on me. There’s two weeks left, Roathy, and you’re not making any progress. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

  His voice is annoyed. “Of course I want to be with you.”

  “Then act like it,” she snaps. “I can’t do this alone. That’s what will happen. I’ll have to go down without you and I’ll be alone for all of it.”

  “Isa, I’m trying.”

  “Try harder,” she snaps. “That’s what I need. I need you to try harder.”

  There’s silence, and footsteps, and I barely manage to slide into an adjacent room. From the shadows, I watch Isadora storm out. I wait for Roathy to follow, but he doesn’t. After a few minutes, I ease out of my hiding place and glance around the corner.

  They were in one of the comfort pods. Roathy stands quietly by one of the porthole windows, looking out at the endless black. I wait by the entrance. There’s a second where I think about doing what Kaya would have done. Talking to him, encouraging him, and making sure everything’s all right.

  But then he unleashes a frustrated scream and flings the contents of the nearest table away. Ceramic mugs shatter against the wall, gasping white clouds of dust into the air. He doesn’t stop there. He keeps wrecking everything, and I force my feet to move, away from him and down the hall. Even when I reach the safety of my room, Roathy’s outburst stays with me.

  Babel’s game is coming to a close. Roathy’s screams might as well be prophecies. When the game ends, there will be winners and losers. I always thought things would get clearer as we arrived at the finish line, but I was wrong. We’re all reaching for the same prizes. The finish line will be chaos. It will be the final and dying efforts of the desperate.

  And I’ll be in the middle of all of it.

  DAY 10, 8:03 A.M.

  Aboard the Tower Space Station

  The next morning they vote someone else as captain, and I do care. I know I led them well, and I know in the end it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m not Kaya. I don’t have her clever tactics or strategies. It isn’t enough to care about my team and sacrifice myself for them. I failed.

  It makes me resent Morning and Genesis 12 even more. In the three days that follow Katsu’s promotion as captain, we manage a single victory. The taste of it is enough to have the rest of the crew believing he’s the magical difference that will start netting us points.

  I know the truth. Genesis 12 has to sit one competitor out each day on a rotating basis. We won on the day Morning sat out. When she’s in the equation, she tips the scales. It’s that simple. We needed to win the afternoon session too, but Katsu got us beached and slaughtered. Still, one victory has the crew asking Katsu about strategies and believing we’re about to turn it all around. One look at the scoreboard on day fourteen shows that Katsu’s leadership is more false hope:

  Yesterday, Omar’s and Anton’s names italicized. They’re officially safe, out of reach. Seven of us remain; four of us will not make it. Vandemeer agreed to sit down with me and crunch numbers. It didn’t take us long to figure out that Alex is pretty much out of reach too. Neither Vandemeer nor I have any false hopes about our ability to beat Genesis 12 on any kind of regular basis. They’ll win the majority, if not all, of the remaining games.

  We also figured out that I’m unlikely to catch Jaime. I’m a far better dueler than he is, but there’s too much ground to cover in too little time. I’m far more likely to catch the one person I don’t want to catch: Bilal. He had a little setback with his leg and h
e’s forfeited every duel so far. Even if he does make a miraculous recovery, how many fights could he actually win?

  The only other threats come from below now: Roathy, Loche, and Brett.

  Roathy’s actually keeping pace in the dueling. He fights each duel like it’s the end of the world. My own victories are the only thing keeping him at bay. And Brett’s too far back. The biggest threat looks like Loche. He continues to climb each day. The Aussie isn’t even performing that well in the duels, but at this rate it might not matter. The math doesn’t lie.

  We have seventeen more days. Two competitions each day. That’s 102,000 points. Morning will be gone for two of those days, or four of those competitions. If we can win those, we’ll grab twelve thousand points. If the past thirteen days are any indication, Genesis 12 might actually take the remaining ninety thousand that are up for grabs. I have a 65,000-point lead over Loche. Normally, I’d call that insurmountable, a done deal, but because of Morning, it isn’t. The duels will fluctuate our scores some, but in Vandemeer’s best projections, I beat Loche by a few thousand points. In the worst-case scenarios, I lose by the same amount. That’s too tight for comfort.

  So I’m focused as we climb aboard today, knowing we’re almost halfway through the last leg of the competition. Katsu’s renamed our stations. He calls Jazzy our eyes. He calls Jaime and me the hips, always pairing it with a grin. He calls Longwei the backbone and our four defensive stations fists. I don’t really care what he calls them; I just want to scrape together one or two unexpected victories. Longwei fires up the engine, and we drift out to the starting point. Genesis 12 is already there. Anton and Alex stand together by the nearest railing. Both look confused as they point at the scoreboard.

  “Alex, have you noticed anything…unusual?” Anton asks with playacted curiosity.

  “The scoreboard,” Alex says. “It appears to be broken.”

  Anton grins. “How do you mean?”

  “It seems only the Genesis 12 members are allowed to gain points. Very unfair!”

  Our crew doesn’t respond. Even Katsu’s done with talking trash. There’s only so much you can say when your record is as stunningly bad as ours is. As we wait, I get a feel for Jaime across the nyxian link. My console reads like a high-tech computer screen. I organize all my controls into a single row of icons, ready to suction or push or dip at a moment’s notice. The driving’s strange. The grips are super sensitive. On the first day I had us sliding all over the place. But Jaime and I have found our rhythm now. It helps that all of our early hatred has completely faded.

  Today, Requin comes alone. His silver hair is a mess, but he’s smiling. He offers his hollow smile a lot these days. He’s proud of his crew. “Today’s race will be three laps.”

  Without another word, he activates the Waterway. The ropes vanish and we get a good kick off the start. Jazzy pulse scans, and we wait for her to call out the course. Genesis 12 hums alongside us, nosed just a bit ahead. Omar and Longwei can get about the same out of their engines. The difference is always what Morning can do with the power she’s given.

  “Nothing on the scans,” Jazzy says.

  “Be prepared for anything, defensive stations,” Katsu commands.

  We maintain the course and Jazzy reports ten seconds later. We’re humming along, setting a solid rhythm with the current. “Still nothing,” she says.

  I glance around and realize we’re all strung tight. We’ve learned how Babel works by now. The less of an obstacle there seems to be, the bigger the monster lurking around the corner. But as we continue picking up speed and round the first bend, Jazzy reports no obstacles again. I glance up and realize we’re moving too fast for Requin to follow. Another glance shows him two hundred meters back, waiting by the observation deck. Usually they fast-track to the closest choke point and watch how we handle it. Not today, though. Which means…

  “Speed!” I shout. “We need as much speed as we can get.”

  Twenty meters to our right, Genesis 12’s already adjusting. Omar and Morning double their engines, and they’ve nosed ahead by half their ship’s length. Katsu’s looking out over the water warily. “I don’t want to get us in trouble around the next bend,” he says. “If we go too fast, we can’t stop ourselves from whatever’s waiting.”

  I glance over. “There’s nothing waiting. No choke points or obstacles. It’s a speed race.”

  Katsu looks unconvinced. “Jazzy?”

  “Still nothing.”

  Frustrated, I leave my console. Genesis 12 is pulling away as Katsu makes up his mind. There’s still time, though. I pull Bilal from his station. Katsu shouts something, but I ignore him. My hands are barely on the grips before the nyxia transforms into my vision. A grappling gun. I take aim, adjust for speed, and fire. We all watch the black hook arc over the river, land on their deck, and snap tight. There’s a distant click as the hook claws into the wooden railing.

  “They’re going to notice that soon enough,” I say through Bilal’s comm. “We have to divert everything to speed by that time. That’s what they’re doing.”

  A quick glance shows I’m right. All four of their fist stations are turned inward. They’re pushing energy to Morning and letting her feed Omar. It’s genius. And probably the reason Ida hasn’t noticed the hook wedged two meters from her station. Genesis 12 is moving three times as fast, but the hook tugs us through the water with them. There’s a groan from our ship as Katsu considers me with narrowed eyes.

  “Fine,” he relents. “All fists convert your energy toward me. I’ll push it to Longwei.”

  The crew gives their assent, and before long our engines are pumping too. Morning keeps glancing back, wondering how we’re staying with them, when Ida finally notices the grappling hook. Morning furiously orders Ida to get rid of it.

  “Bilal, come here.” He limps over. Our increased speed has forced the grappling cord to go slack. I coil it back overboard until it’s a little tighter. Smiling, I offer Bilal a place to grip and take hold of it myself. “Did you ever play tug-of-war?”

  It takes Ida a few seconds to dig the hook out of the side of their ship. We wait and watch as she gets it free. She’s got a good one-handed grip on it and is about to throw the metal overboard when we tug. The effect isn’t as dramatic as I expected, but it hooks her arm and shoulder into a stumble. She loses balance and goes flailing overboard.

  There’s a loud cheer from Genesis 11. Without Ida, the numbers are in our favor. Soon we’re flying down the obstacle-free Waterway. The speed feels dangerous, but Katsu and the rest of the crew can see that we made the right call. We finish the first lap with a solid lead.

  “How are you doing, Longwei?” Katsu asks.

  “Feeling fresh,” he replies quietly. “And powerful. With all of you feeding me, it’s very, very powerful.”

  We whip around another corner. Genesis 12 is floundering behind us. Isadora calls out their distance as one hundred meters back. They can’t keep up without Ida. Everyone’s honed in as we pass the starting point again.

  “Should we slow down some?” I ask.

  “No point,” Katsu says. “We’re winning. Let’s not give them a window.”

  We’re whipping around the second corner again when we see her. Morning stands along the metal ramparts to our left. Her suit and hair are soaking wet, her hands outstretched. Along the water’s surface, she has shaped a staggering wall of massive nyxia black rocks. They stretch across nearly the full, seventy-meter length, leaving only a tiny gap at the far end of the Waterway. I have never seen someone manipulate so much nyxia. It’s impossible.

  Katsu’s the first to panic. “Swing right! Swing right! We have to hit that gap!”

  The engines cut and I feel Katsu join his power to Jaime and me. His mental hand is heavy as he redirects the rudders and yanks the nose of the ship toward the only opening. Morning watches as our boat turns too fast, heaves dangerously, and starts to tilt.

  Jaime activates his suction, but it’s not enoug
h to stop our momentum. We all scream as the boat tips. Black water fills my lungs, I’m turned end over end, my ears scream, my eyes pinch closed, and something sucks at my body. I can feel someone slapping at my neck. Something crushes my legs. I am dying until an arm slips across my chest and pulls. I break the surface, gasping.

  The scene is chaos. Divers are appearing through the hatched entrances and leaping into the water. All of us survive, but it takes two long minutes to pull everyone out. I look up as Genesis 12 comes flying around the corner. Morning rises out of a crouch. We all watch as she walks down the ramparts and sets a hand against the nearest rock. My eyes go wide as the whole thing topples with a shove. There were no rocks. The whole creation falls back into the water, and we can see that it’s flat, two-dimensional. It looks just like the backdrops they use in theater productions. There’s a smack and a splash as her team skids over it and onto victory.

  Morning grins at our crew. Until she sees me. I watch the pleasure she takes in winning vanish. It’s a simple equation. When she wins, I lose. There’s a flash of guilt, and then the divers block my view of her. I don’t wait for the chaos to clear, because I don’t want to see her right now. We were beating them. We should have won and collected crucial points, but as always, Morning’s the only obstacle that matters. Cursing, I leave the room.

  After lunch, I punish Loche. We get matched up for a duel and he tries to pull what he did against Longwei. He wants to get close, wrap his arms around me, and take me overboard. But if you get close to me, you get punished. Two jabs have him staggering. Another brings him to a knee. I’m eager for more, for blood. But as I move in for the kill, I see Loche’s face.