Not that it mattered anymore. But some part of him needed to see Jahx’s battle, the one that would force hand, to know just how far the boy would go. To know if—
(He’s anything like me.)
Cam didn’t care to watch his sisters this time, not that he could with them sitting far away from any hotspot. Instead, he trained the camera angle on his datapad to solely feature Jahx’s face.
Worry and frustration wrinkled the boy’s brow.
You don’t want to fight, Cam thought, watching as Jahx’s opponent, Teahvo, took the opposite seat. But you’re going to have to.
“Jahx—what kind of ratchak name is that?” asked Teahvo as he punched into his console.
The black-haired boy didn’t react, keeping his eyes trained on the console and the holographics. Whatever thoughts ran through his head, he didn’t leak any hints of them outward, at least none that his opponent picked up.
“Let’s get this over with,” Teahvo muttered, batting at the controls, trying to get the game timer to tick down faster.
Instead of tensing, Jahx closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Cam watched his face, how he tilted his forehead forward, his shoulders and arms relaxing. Just watching him, Cam’s own muscles slackened, and he inhaled slowly, filling his lungs, his heart rate dropping.
What are you doing? he thought, watching as the boy blindly typed in his commands.
Jahx didn’t open his eyes again, not until after Teahvo moved his battleship above Jahx’s base of operations. “Suck it, launnie.”
“Good game,” Jahx said, his voice calm and sweet as he revealed his hidden corvettes.
“What?” Teahvo exclaimed. “How could you—”
You got him now, Cam thought as Teahvo recalled his starships back to his defensive line. In a matter of seconds, Jahx’s force crushed his opponent’s, and the scoreboard lit up as it tallied the points.
Jahx hopped out of his seat and ran to Teahvo as he tried to leave. “Want to grab dinner with me?”
“Go chak yourself, launnie,” Teahvo said, spitting on Jahx’s boot.
Jahx extended his hand.
No—you know he’s angry—
“Uk’ep id’p.”
How do you know his native language?!
Infuriated, Teahvo shoved Jahx out of the way as he stormed out of the game room.
“Why’d you do that?” Jetta said, joining her brother’s side.
Jahx said nothing. Instead, the three stood in a tight triangle together, in some wordless conversation that ended with Jetta once again grabbing her siblings’ hands and leading them out.
Cam didn’t move, his heart heavy as he watched the other matches, mind anywhere but in the gaming arena. Finally, a warning notice from his teachers for missing class popped up on his sleeve. That, and another Endgame match.
“Chak,” he muttered, swiping the messages away.
Just survive, he told himself. It’ll all be over soon.
Jetta, Jaeia, Jahx. Three unknown street rats, a war that ravaged his world, the fate of the universe.
I will end this, he thought, gripping the edge of his datapad hard enough that the screen protector cracked. Rogman’s sick games, leeches, machine-man experiments; the reason his family was dead. All of it.
I will kill Jahx Drachsi.
“Just hold out my love…”
The arcade noises—high-pitched whines, beeps, and booming explosions—fluctuated, transformed into a living nightmare. Simulated smoke and gunfire made his lungs burn, and the rumble of the bass turned into burning engines and troopers storming the city. He shielded his face, not wanting to see the flashing lights or hear the cry of the emergency warning systems.
Kara—
He looked up to blackened skies. I’m coming home.
Chapter 24
After a quick trip to the c-wing lavatories, Cam entered the mess hall with one hand in his jacket pocket. Walking across the aisles, he searched for Tran Su, his next scheduled Endgame opponent. The half human, half reptile-like Cercinian took slack from no one, even the regular school bullies. Knowing that threats would go nowhere, he tried a new approach.
The mess hall, packed for lunch, buzzed with chatter and student activity. After spotting her sitting with her usual set of friends, he studied her tray from afar—meat roll, yellow protein drink, bread knot, vegetable puree—and then went to a meal station and selected his lunch.
“Hey, wait—you’re forgetting your tray,” a kid behind him in line said as he walked away with only the bread knot and meat strip in hand.
He didn’t bother to look back, not caring if another kid picked up the rest of his food, or if he got docked for missing another full meal. After stuffing the meat strip in his mouth and chewing it enough to swallow, he headed toward Tran.
As he came up behind her, bits of conversation caught his ear:
“Did you hear those bastard launnies are killing it in the Endgame?”
“No way.”
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
Inside his right jacket pocket, Cam rolled the single poison capsule around his fingertips, feeling the break between the two halves. Digging his nail into the middle, the capsule broke, and what felt like bits of powder covered his fingers. After withdrawing his hand, he wiped his first finger across the bottom of the bread knot and replaced the food item in his opposite pocket.
Be quick, he coached himself. A girl like Tran would sense something afoul if he at all hesitated.
“Hey—that’s mine!” a kid said as Cam grabbed his milk carton and poured it over his right hand, neutralizing the poison on his fingers and then wiping them on his pants. The milk splashed onto the tiles, making the nearby cadets pick up their feet. Still, the kid didn’t do much more than whine to his friends as Cam tossed it back. “What a jerk…”
The two other kids sitting opposite of Tran stopped their conversation with her as Cam came up behind her, a mixed looked of horror and disgust in their faces.
“Chak, it’s Ferros,” one of them muttered.
“He looks like sycha,” someone else whispered.
Tran twisted around, a prepared smile and gleam in her eyes. “What’s up, Ferros? Looking for some pre-game advice?”
Cam said nothing, watching his peripheries, waiting for his moment. Some of the other kids seated to the left and right stopped their conversations to watch, anticipating the fight. Tran didn’t seem bothered, as he expected, setting down her fork before swinging her legs around to face him.
“Don’t think you’re going to scare me off like Nelson,” she said, standing up. Her head reached the middle of his chest but that didn’t stop her from trying to get in his face. “I’m in it for a fair fight.”
From some faraway place he heard an old part of himself cry out, felt guilt tug at his stomach. Tran, with her wild, spiky hair and green scales, would have beaten him, as she deserved to.
But not today.
He didn’t attack her. Such a thing would be too obvious, but he did shove her seat mate to her left out of the way and grabbed at the food on his tray.
“Don’t be an assino,” Tran said, pulling at his sleeve as Cam stuffed his face with the kid’s protein cubes and jelly glaze. Pretending to be off-balanced by her grip, he tipped over and hit her tray. The meat roll went flying, as did the bread knot, her drink, and vegetable puree. But he caught the bread knot, and as Tran and the other kids shielded themselves from the splash of yellow protein drink, he swapped out the bread in his pocket for hers and set it back down on the table.
“You ratchakker!” Tran said, wiping the protein drink from her eyes.
Cam stood up, not caring that the yellow liquid dripped down his uniform jacket and stared at her one last time.
“I’m not going to forget this,” she said as she wrung out her hair.
I’m sure you won’t.
Cam walked away but didn’t exit the mess hall. Instead, he linge
red by one of the trash receptacles, waiting to see what she did as she sat back down. After being consoled by her seat mates, she reached for the one thing that didn’t get drenched in the attack.
The bread knot.
He walked out, the sound of laughter and excited voices following him as he hardened himself to his final, and most deadly, deed.
***
Cam meant to ride the lift back to the games, to find Jahx and be done with things. But when the notice of his canceled Endgame match against Tran buzzed on his sleeve, he couldn’t help himself. Smacking his fist against the controls, he stopped the lift and hopped off, wanting to get anywhere faster than the anti-grav transport could take him.
Spotting the training arena up ahead, he made a decision before the better parts of himself could intercede. The darkened arena welcomed him, motion-detector lights flicking on as he entered the main staging area.
His sleeve beeped.
Training uniform required for combat simulation.
Cam flicked off the notice. “I know.”
Winding back to the storage room near the entrance, he dug through the extra gear in the lockers until he found a uniform close to his size. Stripping right there didn’t bother him, nor did the tight, tingling feel of the training uniform against his skin. Nerve-memories revived the terrible pain that disabled him not long ago, buzzing his arms and legs and into his skull, but he pushed on, grabbing one of the used guns on the locker shelf and heading back to the main staging area.
“Run program,” he said aloud, checking in through his uniform sleeve. He didn’t care what the program chose for him, or the hordes of monsters he might face. Or, the fact that it could kill him.
“Specify hazard level.”
Annoyed, he answered, “no restrictions.”
“Specify enemy grade.”
“I chakking don’t care. Highest level.”
“Custom simulation available.”
“Fine, run it.”
The black interface modules hummed and whined. A vast winterscape unfolded, with ice formations that reached up to the thick grey storm clouds congesting the skies. He shivered, not because of any chill, but because of the brutal land before him, covered in nothing but snow and rock, tortured by lightning and howling winds, with no signs of life for as far as his eye could see.
A roar in the distance. Something up ahead, hidden in the falling snow, advanced toward him, crunching the snow under its massive feet. Cam readied himself, drawing his gun, preparing for the fight.
What is that?
Silver eyes glinted in the snow, bright red gums rimming sharpened teeth the size of his head. But as it neared, the animal sounds—the grunting and snorting—turned into gears grinding against gears—
No, not possible.
Cam backed up, arms shaking. A rusty engine sputtered, shrieked—
Monster—
“Freeze simulation.”
Cam whipped around, gun pointed at the intruder.
“What are you doing?”
Jetta, gun in one hand, stood ten meters away from him.
“What are you doing?” he asked back, not yet lowering his weapon.
“I came to practice,” she said, pointing to her training uniform. “Why are you running my program?”
Cam lowered his gun. “You made this?”
Jetta nodded.
Squinting, he couldn’t yet make out his attacker in the storm, but sensed its immensity, the untold danger it posed. “Why?”
Jetta reaffirmed her grip on her gun. “I wanted to fight the worst enemy the program could run.”
“You have a death wish?”
“No, but apparently you do,” she said, pointing to his uniform. “Won’t that thing kill you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you care?”
Green eyes narrowing, she studied him much the way Jahx and Jaeia did, only what she seemed to glean off his reaction gave her words a vicious edge. “I don’t.”
Then, as anger lit up his muscles and he tensed for the attack, she added: “not if you’re going to throw yourself away like this.”
He paused, confused by what she meant.
“You’re afraid,” she said.
“Right,” he laughed, pointing back at the monster hidden in the storm. “I’m playing a non-restrictions game in a suit that could kill me because I’m afraid.”
Jetta holstered her gun but kept her hand on top of it. “Yeah, you are. Skipping classes, avoiding Endgame matches. Now, this. What are you running away from?”
“Go chak yourself, Jetta,” he said, whipping out his gun and aiming it at her head.
Jetta didn’t flinch, holding his gaze as his finger tapped against the trigger. “Don’t stop now,” she whispered.
“Cam-Cam—”
No, Kara—
“—don’t forget—”
He pulled the trigger.
Jetta took a shuffle step back, then straightened up, raising her own weapon now. “Should have checked your weapon.”
Cam turned over the gun, checking the battery life and the virtual chamber.
Chak—damaged, he thought, running his finger along the crack in the housing. Idiot.
He threw the gun down, into the snow, and raised his fists. “That’s not all I got.”
Jetta, the aggressor, the one who would tear down an army, an entire world, paused. Eyes blazing, she spoke through gritted teeth: “Jahx was wrong about you.”
His sleeve beeped with an urgent message. Cam kept one eye on Jetta as he brought his arm up to his face.
“Endgame rescheduled: 1700 hours.”
That’s five minutes from now—
“Opponent—”
Cam held his breath as he read the rest:
“Jahx Drachsi.”
An additional order, signed by the Commandant himself, flashed at the bottom: An armed guard has been dispatched to escort you to the game room.
He exhaled, heart thumping in his chest. A fight he couldn’t avoid, the one that would end his career, end his life—and force his final gambit.
“Yes,” he said, swiping away the message and lowering his fists. (I’m sorry, Kara.) “Everyone is.”
Chapter 25
Why did Rogman want us to fight each other?
The question looped in Cam’s mind over and over again as the armed guards with silver-sealed eyes and shockwands strapped to their utility belts escorted him into the gaming arena.
Two possibilities surfaced as he avoided the gawking and teasing of the other cadets:
He wants to see how Jahx reacts to facing someone he knows.
And a more troublesome possibility:
He wants to know what I’ll do to survive.
The latter made his stomach tighten. Having skipped classes, botched the biochem final, and with a zero-rating in the Endgame—a loss today would spell his immediate termination, especially since he had no intention of making good on his promises to Rogman.
I can’t lose, he thought as the guards stopped in front of the central console in the middle of the game arena. Looking up, the gigantic spherical playing field burned with the reds, golds, and blues of the playing pieces, timer already ticking down to the inevitable confrontation. And on the opposite side, flanked by his sisters, sat his enemy. The dark-haired boy gazed at him, blue eyes filled with—
Sorrow? Worry?
(Why—because you know you can beat me?)
Angered, Cam shouldered one of the guards out of the way as he headed to his own seat. “I’m here, alright?”
The guards lingered for a moment, then took up post near the stadium seating.
One-minute left until the game started. Cam refused to look up, staring at the game controls, trying to figure out his plan.
He’s going to play you, not the game, he rationalized, just like he did Teahvo. So, play him back.
Not that he really understood how to do that.
As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, a hand sla
pped down on his shoulder. “Beat his assino,” a familiar voice whispered into his ear.
Cam shrugged the hand off, not wanting to acknowledge Stempton with more than a grunt. But the freckle-faced boy grabbed him around the shoulder and pulled in close, digging his fingers into his arm to make it hurt.
“We’re all tired of you, Ferros. Beat the rat, or we beat you,” he said with a wide-toothed grin.
Somewhere behind their leader, hanging in the shifting shadows of the arcades, Walli and Hoch muttered: “Dumb bastard. Better finish that rat.”
Cam twisted out of his grips but said nothing.
As the timer gave its final ten-second warning, Cam couldn’t help but look up, across the spherical globe, to his enemy. Blue eyes stared back.
Trust yourself. The words echoed across the sphere, game pieces rippling as if an invisible wave disrupted their pattern.
No, he said, shaking his head. He imagined that.
The timer beeped.
Cam’s game pieces materialized behind his defensive line: Two warships, three battleships, and a legion of fighters. A planetary body and two orbiting satellites divided the playing field, with Jahx’s forces peeking out from behind the second gray moon.
Cam checked the readout and scans on his personal screen adjacent to his controls. Jahx has only a single warship, low on fuel, and half a legion of fighters.
Rogman stacked the game in his favor.
“Jeez, you’d better win, Ferros,” Stempton laughed. A group of other cadets, alerted by his taunts, gathered around their game. “Or you’re even dumber than you look.”
A bitter taste rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. I’m not that big of an idiot.
Then again, he’d seen each one of the triplets against other opponents, with games clearly rigged against them, and they still triumphed. This wasn’t any different.
Jahx sent two fighters out from behind the protection of the moon, skimming past his battleships, firing but doing little damage to their shields. Cam sent out four fighters after them and waited, seeing what Jahx would do.
He’s better than this. From what he’d observed in Jahx’s previous battles, the boy frequently sent out scout ships to probe the enemy’s weakness, even though the rest of the game played out as if he already knew how he would sweep the enemy to begin with.
Blue Sky Tomorrows Page 25