Win

by Vera Nazarian

  “Ninth hour of Khe,” Lolu replies with a glance at her gadget as she goes through her equipment, keeping him company.

  Zaap curses softly in Atlanteo.

  The others are sleeping or pretending to sleep, heads resting on their equipment bags. I’m one of the sleepless, for some reason unable to let go, possibly because of the soggy clothes clinging to me, and the constant gusts of cold night wind, not to mention the stress thoughts of Aeson, my siblings, everything. . . . Soon my teeth start to chatter uncontrollably, and I give up on sleep.

  I sit up, pulling my legs in under me, and shiver. . . . Then I remember I have a blanket and several small thermal devices with heating elements that I can attach to my uniform. So I open my equipment bag and start digging around in it.

  Good thing my bag is open and the weapons arsenal handy, because that’s when the enemy team comes upon us—moving by stealth, half a dozen Contenders appear suddenly rising right out of the water.

  I cry out, at the same time as Zaap and Lolu cry the alarm.

  The next few seconds are chaos.

  My teammates spring up just as the enemy Contenders charge onto the land ring, brandishing various nets and coils of cords. More people keep coming out of the water. . . . Now I can see there are in fact ten of them, a full team with one representative of each Category.

  In that moment the Games audience discovers the action and reacts to our confrontation. Thousands of fans begin to scream on the other side of the transparent wall. . . . The swell of noise so close by is deafening.

  I stumble-crawl backward, grabbing my opened bag. Then I stand up, continuing to back away as I reach inside for the closest weapon.

  My fingers touch the razor net and, damn!—I cut myself, clumsy from panic. So I let go, because there’s no time to look for the viatoios gloves. . . .

  While I’m still fumbling, Brie is on her feet, a thousand times quicker than me, already blocking me with her body as she fights hand-to-hand with a Red, their limbs flashing in record speed. Meanwhile Tuar is circling another Red Athlete, a powerful woman who is swinging a metallic net.

  Off to my right Kateb is up against a huge, muscled Green wearing an Animal Handler logo, while Lolu and Zaap are dealing with two Whites and a Yellow who are carrying one huge net between the three of them, stretched out to trap and encircle us.

  To my left I see Kokayi doing amazing dance motions as he’s fighting the other Yellow, an Inventor, and a Blue Scientist. I haven’t really seen Kokayi’s hand-to-hand combat abilities before now, and he is impressive, which shouldn’t surprise me, considering his acrobatic skills. The martial arts style he’s using is not the classic Er-Du that I’ve been taught. Rather, it’s very reminiscent of Brazilian Capoeira moves back on Earth that involve acrobatic kicks and cartwheels, amazing flips, and rhythmic footwork.

  I notice all this in the fraction of a second as I find myself next to Chihar, facing a Blue Technician and a Green Entertainer.

  Chihar is holding a length of cord and snapping it like a whip. Opposite him, the Technician feints with one hand and then the other while holding a net unwrapped in front of him like a toreador or an ancient Roman gladiator, specifically a net-and-trident wielding retiarius. Except there’s no trident here, since the Taboo Rule permits only Yellow Quadrant weapons—lucky for Chihar.

  As my mind goes off into a crazy historical tangent in that stupid moment, I force myself to focus on my own opponent, an Entertainer with flexible dance moves of his own. He switches from foot to foot as he moves before me with a cord held taut in both hands in the strangulation grip, ready to bring it around my neck and finish me off.

  My pulse pounds wildly as I begin to sway to match him, transferring my weight from one leg to another, and widen my stance to assume the Floating Swan. There are no weapons in my hands because there’s no time. . . .

  Remember your training, Gwen . . . Let your body instinct take over.

  Don’t think about how much better than you this guy probably is.

  Just don’t think. . . .

  The Entertainer lunges, arms moving to encircle, both of his fists still closed around the cord. Just as he twists to entangle me and tighten the cord around my neck, I bring my own arms over and downward, swinging them hard against his arms and breaking out of his hold.

  Step one . . . disengage.

  At once I dance-step backward in the flowing motions of Er-Du and regain my footing. The Entertainer snaps the cord with one hand, recovers his fisted grip, and starts to circle me again.

  Step two . . . avoid contact.

  I continue backing away and feinting sideways, aware with my peripheral vision that Chihar is doing the same avoidance thing with his own opponent, while the others on our team are engaging up-close and physical.

  Suddenly the Entertainer flings himself forward, twisting artfully so that his shoulder and elbow connect with my body, slamming me in the side with surprising strength.

  One second I’m thrown off balance, breath nearly knocked out of me . . . and the next second I find myself on the ground. I roll as fast as I can to recover, barely avoiding his volley of kicks and punches, and end up back on my feet. I swear, it’s ninety percent luck and only a little bit of training and body reflex.

  Step three . . . do not attack, even if the opportunity presents itself.

  In that split second I’m faced with a lethal decision. . . . I can either strike back at him with a Flowing Fire form-based attack sequence or attempt a Spinning Wind sequence. Or I can choose not to attack at all. Yes, I’ve had extensive training, and these days I’m especially proficient in these two forms, but my practice opponents have all been my friends.

  This is different.

  This is life and death.

  Step four . . . run. If you absolutely cannot run and are cornered, use your voice.

  One quick, desperate glance confirms that my team and I are completely surrounded by hostiles—the one situation we’ve been trying to avoid all throughout the Games. Therefore, running is not an option.

  Which leaves me with the one thing I can do.

  I decide on my next action and steady my breathing for what I’m about to attempt, as Aeson taught me.

  Continuing my evasive footwork, I glance quickly at the Entertainer, taking in the tiniest details of him in a mental snapshot, noting the lines of his uniform, the body armor underneath, the location of his equipment and weapons on his body. . . .

  I focus and aim my voice in the precise direction necessary and sing the voice command to key everything on him—everything that contains any amount of orichalcum.

  Then I set it on fire.

  It’s the basic orichalcum heating command. The same command used during the Qualification Semi-Finals back on Earth to heat the batons.

  Aeson and I decided this was the most effective and fast-acting enemy deterrent method. That’s why we chose it as my go-to vocal self-defense command on short notice, for when I’m cornered and have no other alternatives. Yes, it’s cruel. But it is the Games. And the effects of this command are nullified, once submerged in water—if the enemy realizes it in time—which also gives my conscience the permission to act with a minimum of guilt, especially in this ocean-based Game Zone.

  The Entertainer realizes I’m doing something vocally harmful, and throws himself on top of me to cut off my voice and my breath. However, he’s too late to stop the note sequence.

  I position myself in such a way as to minimize the impact to my body, folding in with my hands and arms protectively around my neck and head, and make myself small. Now I need only count the seconds as the heat rises around him. . . .

  Three seconds later. . . .

  The Entertainer’s uniform starts fading from green to red and then incandescent pink. . . . He releases me and cries out in pain . . . then starts yelling at the top of his lungs. . . . Staggering backwards, he slams into one of the other Contenders on his own team. He drops his equipment bag, tears at his uniform, stumble
s, flailing his limbs as his body smokes. . . . Finally, he figures it out, runs to the edge of the land ring, and flings himself into the water.

  The Games audience explodes with noise.

  While all of this is happening, the other fighting continues all around me. People on both teams glance in the vanquished Entertainer’s direction but no one falters in their combat. And no one else seems to be down—so far we’re evenly matched, with no injuries or fatalities.

  I find my way partially clear now. If I wanted to, I could run.

  Instead I turn to Chihar who is now being driven back hard by the Technician with the net.

  “Lark! Go!” Brie whips her head around in my direction. “Just get out of here! Run!” And she continues fighting with her Red Warrior opponent.

  I hesitate for an instant, thinking quickly.

  And then I cast a wide, all-encompassing stare at the scene around me, searing the images of the Contenders in my mind, separating friends from enemies, memorizing tiny details, positions, locations, spatial configurations of items and people.

  There are really no words for what I’m doing. The closest thing would be an artist doing a life drawing by observation of the living subject or scene. In my case, instead of observing and sketching, I’m observing and memorizing.

  And as the living scene forms inside my mind, I gather my breath and expand my lungs . . . and then I focus with precision at the exact angle, facing the entire scene so that my sound is projected correctly. My voice comes loud and pitch-perfect and clear. . . . It rises over the noise of the immediate scene and the audience din. The note sequence flows out of me as I first voice-key the enemy’s property and uniforms. And then I sing the heating command—repeating it three separate times, narrow-focus targeting our adversaries in three location clusters, in order to avoid hitting any of my own teammates.

  I set the enemy team on fire.

  The entire team.

  The enemy Contenders react at my action at once. They abandon my teammates and try to get to me. The nearest hostile is the Blue Technician—he swings by Chihar and casts his net at me.

  But by the time his net hits me and he attempts to tighten the ropes, his uniform starts burning.

  In seconds, all nine remaining Contenders from the attacking team are on fire. They begin screaming then head directly for the water. . . . Loud splashes are heard as, one after another, bodies hit the surface. Even their Vocalist appears to be useless. He doesn’t bother to override my voice command. Instead, he leaps into the water with the others.

  “Gwen Lark! Gwen Lark!” the audience crowd chants.

  “Now that was clever,” Tuar says, as my teammates approach, breathing hard, to congratulate me.

  “Agreed, very nice job,” Chihar tells me, watching the enemy team as they splash in the waves, swimming along the perimeter of the shore and unable to get out of the water.

  “That was kind of amazing, Lark,” Brie says, slapping me on the back. “We fought and, thanks to you, we lost no one!”

  But the congratulations are premature.

  We might have prevailed against this anonymous team, but we now have a bigger problem.

  There is another team heading our way along the land ring. They must’ve heard the commotion and decided to join the AG points hunt.

  The Games crowd beyond the Game Zone wall goes insane.

  The familiar “Gwen Lark!” chant is now replaced by “Tha-las-sa!”

  But that’s not all.

  “Look—no, this way!” Kateb points with a frown.

  From the opposite direction along the land ring, yet another team approaches our location, moving at an easy run, like a hungry predator pack. Even from a distance I recognize the familiar giant shape of skyball champion Athlete Deneb Gratu.

  Oh, crap.

  The two celebrity teams converge on our location from both sides. Thalassa’s group is closer, but Deneb and his crew are running, while the audience screams and the announcers go wild with commentary.

  “. . . What excitement! What a stunning moment of confrontation for three major teams, Grail Games worshippers! After a truly incendiary performance moments earlier, will Team Lark survive an attack from two powerhouse teams at once? Or will the Imperial Bride go down in flames herself, taking her team with her? Place your bets now—”

  I stand, looking back and forth in both directions, momentarily stunned with indecision, while my heartbeat races. There’s literally nowhere for us to go along this ten-meter wide strip.

  “We’re dead now . . . so dead,” Lolu mutters, stomping in place in anxiety.

  “We can’t fight them all,” Zaap adds, flexing a length of cord in his hands. “Unless you heat up their uniforms too and burn them? Can you do that again?”

  The others look at me—some nervously, others with resignation.

  “I don’t know. . . . There’s no time,” I say with anxiety. “I—I don’t think I can do this selective voice command with so many of them coming at us from both directions—it’s too complicated, and if I cast the voice wrong and it affects your things too—”

  “Agreed,” Chihar says sadly. “Too complicated. Truth is, we’re not a match for even one of these teams. This may be the end.”

  “Then we make our stand and fight and die,” Tuar says in a hard voice.

  “What the hell? No!” Brie glares at everyone. “Stop blathering! We need to run!”

  “Where?” Kokayi glances around then back at me and shakes his head.

  “Out there! Jump in and swim!” Brie points into the watery darkness that begins a few steps away.

  I inhale deeply and turn to stare in the direction of the water. . . .

  “Key your bags, now,” I say. “We’ll flee to the interior of the Game Zone. And by flee I mean, fly. As long as it’s still considered today, before the new day clock starts, we can hover over everything.”

  I don’t need to tell them twice. At once everyone gets moving. We voice-command our bags, grip them tightly, and take off at a rapid hover speed.

  “Go, go!” Kateb cries, seeing how the hostiles are almost upon us.

  In a hurry I take a running leap over the edge of land. . . . Just for a moment the soles of my feet dangle a mere few inches over the surface of water ring one, colored ink-black by the night, before I rise higher to a safe distance of a couple of feet above ocean level and pick up speed. The rest of my team is doing the same thing.

  And it’s not a moment too soon. Thalassa’s team arrives in our former spot. . . .

  As we put distance between us, halfway across the water ring, I turn around to watch as Team Irtiu gathers at the shore watching us and hurling insults in our wake. And then I hear them start to key their own bags.

  What did I think was going to happen?

  Of course they’re coming after us!

  Chapter 79

  “Oh no! I can see people behind us! Faster!” Lolu cries next to me, hugging her bag and looking backward constantly as we speed forward across the water. Now that we’re in motion, the night wind blows hard in our faces.

  “Damn!” Brie exclaims, just ahead of me. “They’ve decided to follow us in here!”

  “Yes, that was to be expected. The logical thing to do.” Kateb’s rational voice comes from nearby.

  Further back the Games spectator noise swells again, interspersed with commentator chatter. Apparently Team Gratu has also joined the aerial pursuit and are flying right behind Team Irtiu, all of them headed our way.

  Right now we’re only a couple of minutes ahead of them. The water surface of the rings flashes below us as we move, casting shadows over the glittering reflections of the dense stars and moons above, mixed with artificial lights installed along each land ring perimeter. We pass multiple curving “runways”—rings of land interspersed with water.

  Glancing behind me, I see moving enemy dots . . . numerous dark silhouettes of airborne Contenders in the distance. . . . It’s hard to tell if they’re closing in o
n us.

  A few minutes more of rapid flight and we’re at the heart of the Game Zone. The audience noise has receded far behind us. Meanwhile, the central Green Grail Island looms ahead with its perpetual fountain surrounded in a ring of lights.

  It might be nice to stop for some drinking water, but we cannot afford to slow down, not even for a few seconds.

  “Go, go, go!” Zaap calls out to us, as he flies ahead, the first one to pass over the island with the Green Grail.

  He’s also the one who almost runs into a transparent wall that suddenly appears before us, just beyond the expanse of water ring ten, on the other side of the island.

  “Look out!” Kokayi cries in warning, seeing the wall—in fact, one of four walls belonging to a small glass enclosure which floats like a rectangular raft upon the waves.

  Zaap swerves just in time, and we all pull up, singing hasty voice commands to slow down, in order to examine this object before us.

  “I think this is a Safe Base,” Chihar says.

  And he’s right.

  The raft is room-sized, completely enclosed within four walls and a ceiling of the same glassy transparent material as the other divider structures in this Game Zone. The bottom has the same matte flooring as the land rings. Four rainbow beacons are installed on the interior along each corner, indicating a Safe Base. There’s one door with a lock, sitting ajar. And through the transparent walls we can see a hovering smart wall surveillance system and the usual stack of shelter blankets.

  No one is inside.

  Which means it’s ours to claim.

  “Hurry, get inside!” Kateb says, the first to aim toward the door.

  We approach, descend, and get in, one by one. As we step on the floor it gives slightly, sinking a few inches below the surface from our added weight, but continues to float securely in the water. Tuar is the last of us to enter, and he shuts the transparent door behind him, locking it from the inside.

  Just like that, we’re safe—at least for now.

  My heart is still pounding as I stand on the inside of the Safe Base, with a secure barrier of thick Atlantean “super-glass” between me and the approaching enemy.