Ultraball #1

by Jeff Chen

  “Nice hits,” Pickaxe said to Boom as practice ended and they got out of their Ultrabot suits. “You sent Rock flying so many times. Just think of what you could have done against my little bro here. You would have crushed him into moon dust.”

  For once, Nugget didn’t send a snappy comeback his brother’s way, his excitement bubbling over. “We’re going all the way, Strike,” he said. “We got ourselves a game changer.” He stepped out of his leg panels and went over to Boom. “This is our year to raise that Ultrabowl trophy, now that we have a new star rocketback.”

  “There’s just one thing,” Strike said. He cleared his throat. “Boom is . . . she’s from . . .” Taking a deep breath, he bit his lip. “She’s a Dark Sider.”

  Pickaxe’s chuckles died out as he studied Strike’s somber face. He pushed Nugget protectively behind him, putting up his fists. “You seriously a Dark Sider? You got dark face paint on or something?”

  Boom raised her hands, her eyes narrowing with laser focus. “I am displeased with your doubt. I call upon my Dark Side voodoo to curse you.” She howled, making Pickaxe flinch.

  After Boom rolled her eyes, Nugget broke into peals of laughter. “You should have seen your face. You thought she was going to curse you.”

  “I’ll curse you,” Pickaxe mumbled. “Strike. You gotta be insane. We can’t have a Dark Sider on the team.”

  “She may be a Dark Sider,” Strike said. “But Boom smacked you down. Big-time. What other choice do we have?”

  “Great,” Boom said. “So I’m your last choice, am I?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Strike said. He kicked himself inside for being such a moron. “You’re great. Without you, we don’t stand a chance. You’ll get used to Pickaxe. He’s solid. Loyal. Great teammate, once he gets to trust you.”

  Pickaxe shook his head. “Trust a Dark Sider? Never gonna happen. Come on, Strike. We’re already the butt of the league after last year’s Ultrabowl. I can barely take all the taunting.”

  Strike squeezed his eyes shut. The horrible memory of TNT throwing the game haunted him every night, TNT letting himself be smothered by Neutron defenders to end the game.

  “Guys from Cryptomare Colony came in last week, delivering tunneling equipment,” Pickaxe said. “Do you know how much crap Nugget and I caught from them? We got crap from Molemen fans. From Molemen fans. The Molemen would be a better team if they put empty Ultrabot suits on the field. We’re the biggest joke in the entire league. What are people going to say when they find out we have a frakkin’ Dark Sider on the team?”

  “What did people say about having an eight-year-old on an Ultraball team?” Strike asked, pointing to Nugget. “What did people say when I skipped over three solid recruits to take you? And did you forget about when the SmashMouth Radio Blitz guys started calling you Axepicker?”

  The nickname—a play on words, as in someone “picking their axe”—had almost broken Pickaxe. He stared at the ground, scowling at the memory.

  “Berzerkatron and the Mad Mongol rode you hard,” Strike said. “You nearly crumbled. But I stood by you. We all did. Fireball Five forever. I don’t care what anyone outside this arena thinks. Only one thing matters: finally winning the Ultrabowl.”

  Pickaxe lifted his eyes at Boom, studying her. “She’s awful thin. My aunt Keiko looks stronger than her, and Auntie ain’t doing so hot. You think she can make it through an entire Ultraball season?”

  “I know she can,” Strike said. “Look at your little brother’s stick arms. And you know how good he is.”

  “Hey, I got muscles,” Nugget said. “Check out the gun show, baby.” He raised a tiny bicep and pumped it.

  “When are you going to start flexing?” Boom asked.

  Rock howled with a salvo of gunfire laughter, scribbling away into his notebook. Even Pickaxe had to turn away to suppress a smile.

  Nugget strained even harder, turning red. “Gun. Show. Baby!”

  “Quit that before you pass out,” Strike said. “Look, Pickaxe. Boom has what it takes to be a rocketback 1. She can take us all the way to our first Ultrabowl victory. All of us raising that trophy, together. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Pickaxe slumped over and groaned, but Nugget cautiously walked over to Boom. After a long moment studying her, he raised a hand for a high five. “Welcome to the team,” he said.

  She slapped his palm. “Thanks. You’re going to open up holes for me?”

  “Oh yeah,” Nugget said. “I’m the best crackback 2 in the entire league. Just ask Tombstone. And Rattler. And Meltdown. I’ve put them all down so hard they’ve left butt-shaped craters on the field. You watch any of my film yet?”

  “Not yet,” Boom said. “I have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll need help.”

  “I’ll help,” Nugget and Rock said at the same time. They turned away from each other, stealing looks at Boom with awkward grins.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Pickaxe said. “Don’t you guys understand? Dark Siders hate the UMC. Bunch of frakkin’ traitors. Deserters. She’s probably a spy.”

  Boom’s eyes narrowed. Her hands slowly squeezed into fists, her knuckles cracking. “I’m no spy,” she said.

  “Then why are you really here?” Pickaxe said. “First Dark Sider ever to return? Has to be more behind it than just playing Ultraball.”

  “I’m here to win an Ultrabowl.”

  “How did you even sneak into Taiko Colony?” Pickaxe said. “How many Dark Siders did you bring with you?” He shook his head. “She’s probably planning on overthrowing the UMC. Or worse.”

  Boom folded her arms across her chest, glowering at Pickaxe. “I give you my word. This is no Dark Side plot. It’s just me, and a few friends to look out for me. So no more questions.”

  “No more questions?” Pickaxe said. “Why? What the frak are you hiding?”

  “Dark Siders respect everyone’s privacy. That’s why Dark Siders want nothing to do with the frakkin’ UMC, always prying into everyone’s business. How can you even bear to live in this police state?”

  “It’s not a police state,” Strike said. He looked over to Rock. “What’s a police state?”

  “Remember what those guys said last night?” Boom asked. “The Blackguard is watching you. That’s the very definition of a police state.”

  “She’s right,” Rock said. He glanced around before lowering his voice. “The UMC keeps close surveillance on everyone, in the name of public safety. And the rumors of the horrible things the Blackguard has done . . . I can sympathize with the Dark Siders’ wish for something better.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Boom said. “Rock gets it. So no more questions. It should be enough that I’m going to help you win the Ultrabowl.”

  Pickaxe turned to Strike. “This is ridiculous. How is anyone supposed to trust someone we know nothing about? The Blackguard might even throw her in prison. We’d have to forfeit with just four players. Our fans are gonna riot.”

  Strike paused, letting Pickaxe’s words sink in. Could Zuna pay off the Blackguard to arrest Boom? Or would they do it on their own, anyway? At the very least, there would be a ton of questions from reporters, insisting on answers. And would fans boycott the Miners? Even with the moon’s Ultraball mania, the Taiko Miners lost a little money every year. If they started bleeding U-dollars, the Underground Ultraball League might even take away the franchise and move it to a richer colony.

  He turned to the one person who could figure out these complicated issues. “Rock. What do you think?”

  Rock stared at Boom in silence, his face tense with concentration.

  “Fine,” Boom said. “I’m leaving if you idiots can’t see—”

  “That your skills are already on par with Tombstone or Fang,” Rock said. “That you might even become better than Chain Reaction by the end of the season. That although you have a menacing exterior, it’s driven by your laser-like focus on victory. But above and beyond everything else, that you represent our one and only
chance to win the Ultrabowl.”

  “Menacing?” She narrowed her eyes at Rock and laughed. “I like that.”

  Rock’s forehead crinkled. “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.”

  “You are so weird,” she said. “But a good kind of weird.”

  Strike let Rock’s words sink in. As usual, his right-hand man was right. Winning an Ultrabowl title for his Miners was the only thing that mattered. “Okay. Boom’s our new rocketback 1. Everyone in.”

  Everyone placed their hands atop Strike’s. Pickaxe hesitated, but he finally joined.

  “We start now,” Strike said. “And we don’t stop until we win the Ultrabowl. Miners together?”

  “Miners forever,” everyone said in unison.

  “Until our fans boo us off the field,” Pickaxe muttered under his breath.

  ULTRABALL ROSTERS FOR THE 2352 SEASON

  Cryptomare Molemen

  Farajah Flamethrowers

  QB Grinder

  QB Supernova

  RB1 Dirtbag

  RB1 Afterburner

  RB2 Vacuum

  RB2 Firestorm

  CB1 Drill Bit

  CB1 Asbestos

  CB2 Junker

  CB2 Inferno

  Kamar Explorers

  North Pole Neutrons

  QB Shootout

  QB Fusion

  RB1 Tombstone

  RB1 Chain Reaction

  RB2 Lasso

  RB2 Meltdown

  CB1 Gunner

  CB1 Radioactive

  CB2 Scout

  CB2 Ion Storm

  Saladin Shock

  Taiko Miners

  QB White Lightning

  QB Strike

  RB1 High Voltage

  RB1 Boom

  RB2 Live Wire

  RB2 Rock

  CB1 Electrocution

  CB1 Pickaxe

  CB2 Discharge

  CB2 Nugget

  Tranquility Beatdown

  Yangju Venom

  QB Destroyer

  QB Serpent

  RB1 Uppercut

  RB1 Fang

  RB2 Hammer Fist

  RB2 Viper

  CB1 Chokehold

  CB1 Rattler

  CB2 Takedown

  CB2 Toxin

  6

  Game 1 Vs. The Yangju Venom

  GAME DAY.

  Strike rubbed his eyes as he kicked off his sheets. He looked across the room at Rock, who was sitting even more rigidly than usual on the grubby sofa. “You okay?” Strike asked.

  “Do you need your six fifteen slot?” Rock said. He crossed his legs, rocking back and forth. “I may need to run outside and take my chances.”

  “Go ahead. I can wait.” Everything on the moon had to be recycled or reused, especially fluids. If you couldn’t bribe your way out of it, the penalty for peeing outside of a recycling unit was a day in Han-Shu Prison.

  Rock jumped up and raced to the door. “Thanks. My detailed analysis is on the table.” He yanked open the door and sprinted down the hallway toward the waste collection room. Even though it was early, the sounds of sports talk radio trickled in from the hallway, so much of it still speculating about Boom.

  Getting to his feet, Strike made his way through the small room packed with their few pieces of furniture. On their table were two sheets of paper, every square centimeter covered by miniature script. Strike grumbled as he squinted to read Rock’s notes. Rock had uncovered all sorts of important things about the Neutrons’ new defensive scheme, which SmashMouth Radio Blitz had nicknamed “Radioactive Waste.”

  Strike looked up when Rock came back. “Nice work,” Strike said. “The only thing you missed is how many times Fusion takes a dump every day.”

  “I could make a guess. On average, I poop 1.2 times a day—”

  “Never mind. Let’s get ready. Big day ahead of us.” He tossed a hardtack bar to Rock and gnawed on another one as he scanned through the second page of Rock’s notes. “You find anything else on Boom? Or the Dark Siders in general?”

  “Just historical records. The first wave of colonists left for the Dark Side one hundred six years ago, and there have been six more mass departures. But it’s still a mystery as to exactly where any of them went, or how they survived. I can’t even find anything about the Federation of Free Territories that Boom mentioned. As for Boom . . .” Rock bit his lip. “I don’t like spying on her. That’s exactly what the Dark Siders hate.”

  “It’s not spying. I just don’t want to be in the dark. After what happened last year—”

  A knock came at the door. Strike answered it. A group of five men with wavy black hair stood in the hallway, all in blue jumpsuits with Strike’s number 8 decal stitched on. Behind them was Nadya from across the hall, wearing both Strike’s number 8 decal as well as Rock’s number 5.

  “Mornin’, Strike,” the lead man said. “Ready for your escort?”

  Strike groaned. It was Jamal, who lived a few doors down. He was always grilling Strike for information. “You sure this is necessary?”

  “You guys have targets on your backs, especially now that you got a Dark Sider on the team. We need to make sure Raiden Zuna doesn’t pull anything on the pride and joy of Taiko Colony.” He scanned the ceiling and walls. “He might even be spying on you right now.”

  All the bodyguard stuff seemed unnecessary, but it was easier to just go along. Strike wolfed down the rest of his hardtack bar, the dry crumbles scratching his throat. He grabbed his bag. “I just have to wait for Rock’s bathroom slot and then we can go.”

  “You can have mine,” Jamal said. He leaned in. “You guys are going to kick the Venom’s butt today, aren’t you? I got ten U-bucks on the Miners winning by more than twenty-eight points.”

  “Come on, Jamal,” Nadya said. “You promised you’d leave him alone.”

  “Sorry,” Jamal said. He leaned in to Strike. “But you’ll crush them, won’t you? By more than twenty-eight points?”

  Strike turned away with a sigh. Every season, people pumped him for information. People bet their meager savings on anything and everything, even things as ridiculous as if there would be a repeat of the blackout during last year’s Ultrabowl.

  Another guy nudged Rock. “I drafted you for my fantasy team. Get an interception, okay?”

  “Me?” Rock said. “You drafted me? Why? Did you have the last pick in your draft?”

  “Well, yeah. But—”

  “Look,” Strike said. “I appreciate you guys coming along to protect us and all. But the only thing I can tell you is that the Miners are going to do our best to destroy the Venom today.”

  “But you’ll destroy them by more than twenty-eight points, right?” Jamal asked.

  “Seriously, shut up,” Nadya said. She punched Jamal in the shoulder.

  After Strike’s pit stop in the waste collection room, the five men escorted them out the apartment building. It was weird to have a posse of bodyguards, people looking out for him. One of Strike’s last memories of his parents bubbled up: his mom hugging him tightly as he cried out of fear and hunger, his beaten-up father racing in the door with a handful of stolen hardtack bars, telling them that they needed to hide. Bitter tears burned at Strike’s eyes as he stomped the image back down into its dark corner.

  Despite it being so early in the artificial morning that the roof lights were still dimmed throughout the massive cavern housing Taiko Colony, the streets were dotted with fans in blue jumpsuits. They clapped and cheered when Strike and Rock emerged. Strike waved to a group of kids he had known from the Tao Children’s Home, who were now either working in the mines or begging on the streets. He pushed through the escort to say hi, but Nadya held him back. “Sorry, Strike. We can’t take any chances. You never know who might be in Zuna’s pocket.”

  Strike sighed but nodded.

  The circle of people escorted them toward Taiko Colony’s main airlock leading to the massive Tunnel Ring connecting the United Moon Colonies together. Along the way, adult
s and kids in mining gear turned out to root for the hometown heroes. “Win it all, Strike,” one guy yelled. “You gotta keep Zuna out of Taiko Colony.”

  Strike’s chest tightened. Why does everyone have to put this on my shoulders? he thought. Governor Katana made the bet, not me.

  At the tram station outside Taiko Colony’s airlock door, another group of five burly men in blue jumpsuits approached. They broke ranks, allowing Pickaxe and Nugget to emerge. “Strike!” Nugget said. He ran up and whispered, “That was so cool.”

  Strike mussed Nugget’s hair. The boy’s enthusiasm brought him back to the early days of his career, when the excitement of playing Ultraball was the only reason he couldn’t sleep.

  Boom was by herself, leaning on a tram marked with the shiny black-and-chrome Underground Ultraball League logo. She gave them all a short nod.

  “Where’s your escort?” Strike asked. “If any of us needs protection, it’s you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Boom said. “And I told you, I got friends looking out for me.” She glanced at Rock, and her stony glare melted for the briefest moment before hardening again. “Let’s get going.”

  The Miners loaded up onto the Ultraball tram, outfitted to the max by the Underground Ultraball League. Fans waved at them from the station, with Jamal, Nadya, and the rest of the escort watching the crowd for any signs of Raiden Zuna’s people. The tram shuddered as it lurched into motion, picking up speed along the Tunnel Ring. The LunarSports Reports pregame show played on a huge wall monitor. Rock had muted the sound, but Boom’s picture was front and center. Ever since Strike had made the announcement about Boom joining the Miners, the speculation about her and the Dark Siders had continued nonstop.

  As before every game, Rock presented his findings about the team they would face, giving a detailed overview about the Yangju Venom. By the time they arrived at Yangju Arena and unloaded their Ultrabot suits, Strike’s head swam with information. “That’s good for now,” he said. “It’s almost game time.”