Ultraball #1

by Jeff Chen

  63

  Flamethrowers

  112

  Molemen

  21

  Shock

  42

  Venom

  35

  STANDINGS, WEEK 4

  Wins Losses Total Points

  Neutrons

  4

  0

  392

  Miners

  4

  0

  343

  Flamethrowers

  3

  1

  364

  Beatdown

  2

  2

  336

  Shock

  2

  2

  182

  Explorers

  1

  3

  280

  Venom

  0

  4

  147

  Molemen

  0

  4

  70

  15

  The Junk Hole

  A FEW DAYS before the Neutrons game, Strike sat on the edge of the old quarry connected to Taiko Colony. The giant sloping pit had once been a source of raw materials, moon rock scraped out by the bucketful to be pressed and fused into gray bricks. But after Earthfall, the quarry had been transformed into a storage spot for what little junk couldn’t be reused or recycled. Things had been different before Earthfall, all this trash ejected straight toward the sun. But now that there were no more regular Earth-to-moon supply runs, everything had to be saved, in case someone could figure out how to someday use it. The pit was halfway full at this point, and it was getting fuller every year. Strike picked up a rock and heaved it into the abyss, watching as it smacked into something goopy.

  This place was so nasty that even the Blackguard didn’t bother to monitor it. But that was what made it Strike’s refuge. It was where he came when he needed to think.

  And right now, he needed to think more than ever.

  When Strike was still living at the orphanage, this junk hole had been his and TNT’s private hangout. No one had any reason to go there except to dump anything the Guoming Colony waste processing factory wouldn’t take. The rotting smell kept people away, but the stink was a small price to pay for the peace and quiet of one of the few uncrowded places on the moon. Strike had even grown to like the overpowering stench, the odor reminding him of better times. Sometimes he and TNT had stayed there for hours, digging through trash, challenging each other to rock-throwing contests, or making up stories about their futures as Ultraball players. This was where they had come right after finding out about Taiko Colony getting an Ultraball team.

  That day four years ago was burned into Strike’s head. He had stood on the welcome mat to TNT’s apartment, peeking inside. Bright throw rugs covered the floors. The smell of something delicious wafted through the air. It was a real home, a real family, neither of which Strike would ever have again. Not after the Fireball Blast.

  “What are you waiting for?” TNT asked from inside. “Come in already, you butt-wipe.”

  “Wei-wei,” said a woman. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”

  “Mom,” TNT said, his voice dripping with embarrassment. “I told you, don’t call me Wei-wei anymore. It’s TNT. And Strike is a butt-wipe.” He yanked Strike inside.

  Strike stopped in front of a picture of TNT at the mass funeral for the Fireball Blast victims. Memories leached their way out of dark places in the shadows of his mind: People crying. A monk saying how these miners gave their lives for Taiko Colony. Adults offering their condolences. But so many people blaming Strike’s mother for the fifty-six deaths.

  Just as he turned to run, TNT’s mom appeared with a tray of hardtack bars. But there was something different about them. The delicious smell . . . Strike froze in place. His eyes were telling him that these were just hardtack bars, but his nose was screaming for him to step closer.

  “So nice to meet you,” TNT’s mom said.

  “You too, Mrs. TNT,” Strike said.

  “Mrs. TNT? Most of my little Wei-wei’s friends call me Mrs. Tsai.”

  “Mom!”

  “I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to think of you as anything but my baby.” She put down the plate and returned to the kitchenette. “Eat.”

  TNT took a bar and handed one to Strike. “Awesome, huh? For special occasions, she adds some kind of spice she stashed right after Earthfall.”

  Strike tried to answer, but he was too busy wolfing down the hardtack bar. Instead of the usual bitterness, it was sweet and spicy and mouthwatering. He let out a contented sigh as he licked his fingers to get the last specks.

  TNT leaned in. “You better not tell anyone that she calls me her baby. I’d have to kill you.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing. Little Wei-wei.”

  “You are so dead.” TNT shook his head and smiled. “Just you wait until you hear my mom’s news. She said it’s big. Really big. Come on.”

  TNT’s mom worked for the Underground Ultraball League. If she had any news about the rumors of an expansion team, Strike had to find out. He followed TNT into the kitchenette.

  Mrs. Tsai bent down in front of a hot plate, her hands wrapped in strips of cloth as she inspected two hardtack bars. Something choked in Strike’s throat, a memory of him as a little kid burning himself on a hot plate, and his mom squeezing him hard as he wailed and cried.

  But before he could run, Mrs. Tsai smiled. “The good news is that Ultraball is coming to Taiko Colony,” she said.

  TNT whooped. He raised his hand and high-fived Strike. “Can you get us into games?”

  “I can do you one better. The league is going to hold open tryouts for the team.”

  Strike whipped around to TNT, staring at him in astonishment. “You mean we could actually be real live Ultraball stars?” TNT said. “This is incredible.”

  “Not so fast,” Mrs. Tsai said. “The bad news is there are already hundreds of kids wanting to try out. I don’t know how the news leaked. The league is limiting tryouts to just fifty slots. It’s going to be a lottery system. The odds aren’t good.”

  TNT thumped his head down against the counter.

  Strike’s disappointment sank all the way down to his toes. Why did he ever hold on to hope? In just three months, he’d turn ten, aging out of the jam-packed Tao Home to make room for other orphans, and go work in the mines.

  “Don’t you two want to hear the good news?” Mrs. Tsai said.

  TNT looked at her in confusion. “But you already told us the good news.”

  “The other good news.” She cracked a mischievous smile, her eyes twinkling. “How would you like to try out for the Taiko Miners?”

  “What?” TNT asked. “Seriously. This better not be another one of your jokes.”

  She threw an arm around TNT and laughed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” She pulled tickets out of her pocket. “I called in every last favor to secure tryouts for you. I might even be able to sneak you in and get you some time inside Ultrabot suits before then.”

  TNT rushed his mom, tackling her so hard she almost toppled her over. He smothered her with hugs before freezing and stealing a glimpse at Strike. He released his mom, trying to act cool. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. Even with your terrible jokes.”

  “Well, I thought it was funny.” She smiled and winked at Strike.

  “Come on,” TNT said. “Let’s get to the junk hole. We have a lot of planning to do. We’re gonna take the Miners all the way to an Ultrabowl title. I already thought of an awesome slogan: Miners together, Miners forever. You and me, Strike. Blood brothers, on and off the field.”

  Strike grinned from ear to ear.

  Footsteps snapped Strike out of his trance. Rock was approaching along with Torch, who had his little sister in tow. Torch picked her up after she started coughing, carrying her the rest of the way, nestled in his arms.

  “So this is the dump,” Torch said. “People all the way over in Farajah Colony talk about the stink. It�
��s even worse than everyone said.” He peered over the edge. “Sure is a ton of trash down there. You think there’s anything valuable?”

  “Nah,” Strike said. “TNT and me, we scoured the place years ago. Two dumb kids, convinced we would find buried treasure.”

  “How can you take the smell?” Torch covered up his nose with the front of his jumpsuit.

  “It’s not so bad,” Strike said. “Kind of brings me back.”

  “Man, you musta had one strange childhood,” Torch said.

  Strike shook his head, his face pinching up. “You have no idea.”

  After an uncomfortable silence, Torch cleared his throat. “Hey, hope you don’t mind me coming to your private spot here. Rock said he had a guess as to where you might be.”

  “No problem. What’s up?”

  “Is it cool with you if I miss practice for the next few nights?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Strike said. He stole a glance at the little girl, her dark face splotchy and sickly-looking, her chest heaving with spasms. “Is she okay?”

  Torch shrugged. “She’s been like this for two weeks now. It’s been getting worse. I gotta take her over to Salaam Colony.”

  “The hospital?” Strike exchanged a nervous glance with Rock, his heart sinking for Torch. Salaam Colony was the medical center of the moon and the site of its lone hospital. But only the rich could afford to go there. People in Taiko Colony soldiered through pretty much any sickness or injury, no matter how serious. “I really wish we could pay you a salary, Torch. You’ve been so valuable to the team. To me.”

  “I totally understand. But, if you don’t mind, there is something I wanted to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  “My sister is such a huge fan of yours.” He brought the ashen little girl forward. A black number 8—Strike’s number—was hand-drawn on her chest. “Could you give her an autograph? I bet that would make her feel a lot better.”

  Strike gaped in horror at the girl barely filling out her tiny jumpsuit. She looked like she would break in two if you breathed on her wrong. How could Strike possibly make her feel better? Plenty of kids didn’t make it in Taiko Colony.

  He caught sight of Rock, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head toward the little girl.

  As always, Rock had the right answer. Strike couldn’t give the girl medical treatment, but he could give her hope. He gently tousled her hair. “Be strong, okay? Fight. Get better.”

  “You’re my favorite player ever,” Jasmine said. Her head rolled from side to side, her eyes half-closed in her fevered state. “Can I have your Ultrabowl ring when you win?”

  “Jasmine!” Torch said. “You can’t ask that. Sorry, Strike.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Strike smiled at her. “You know what? It’s yours. It’s the least I can do, given that I can’t afford to pay your brother for all the coaching he’s given us. I owe him, big-time. You can even come up for the awards ceremony.”

  Torch’s eyes went wide. “You’d give her your Ultrabowl ring?”

  “The ring itself means nothing.” Strike was a little surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth, but really, it was only a piece of jewelry. What really mattered was delivering an Ultrabowl title to his Miners family, setting up him and his teammates for life.

  Torch wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “Thanks, Strike. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you.”

  His sister pressed her face into Torch’s arm, but she peeped out over his shoulder as they left, giving him a delirious smile.

  “So,” Strike said. “You find out anything new?”

  Rock picked up a pebble and chucked it into the hole. “I hate spying on Boom. It makes me feel like I’m no better than the Blackguard.”

  “I’m not singling out Boom. I need to know as much as I can about her, the Dark Siders, Zuna, everything. What did you turn up?”

  “I found out more about the Dark Siders.” Rock pulled out his notebook, staring at it with intense concentration. “And Zuna.”

  “How?”

  “It wasn’t easy. I had to book computer time at Copernicus College under a fake name. Then I used combinatorial guessing to figure out passwords for classified United Moon Colonies documents. Then—”

  “What did you find?”

  Rock frowned as he flipped a page. “There’s good news. And there’s bad news.”

  “What’s the good news?”

  “It’s very likely that Raiden Zuna has been explosion mining and blast fracking across the Dark Side. The seismic data is all there. And there’s more: ten bodies were found at the site of one incident, the blackened corpses exhibiting high radiation levels. Only the Meltdown Gun could have done that.”

  Strike recoiled. “That’s the good news?”

  “Yes, because it matches everything Boom has told us. She has every reason to get revenge on Raiden Zuna. It disproves everything TNT said about Zuna paying off Boom. She would never work with him, not in a million years. I’d bet any amount of money that Boom will find a way to destroy his Meltdown Gun. Maybe even steal it.”

  “There’s no way she could steal it. Zuna is a Colony Governor.”

  “Remember how easily she stole that Blackguard’s security badge when we first met her? She’ll find a way.”

  Strike picked up another stone and hucked it into the junk pit. “Okay. So TNT is definitely wrong about Boom. What’s the bad news?”

  “TNT might not have been all wrong. If Zuna becomes governor of Taiko Colony . . .” Rock took a deep breath. “He might actually be able to destroy it.”

  Strike’s eyes went huge. His lungs seized, unable to draw in a breath. His throat strangled as he waited for Rock to say that this was some sort of sick joke.

  But Rock kept staring down at his notebook.

  “You said he couldn’t do that,” Strike said. “He needs fourteen of the twenty-one votes to control the Council of Governors. North Pole Colony and Taiko Colony, that’s only two.”

  “I’m not positive about any of this,” Rock said. “But he’s formed all sorts of partnerships with many other colonies. None of them is formalized. Some seem to be just handshake agreements. I don’t know how solid they are, or how deep they go. I can’t be sure of how many votes his alliance might be able to control.” He swallowed a lump lodged in his throat. “But it’s possible that it’s thirteen. Taiko Colony’s vote might be the fourteenth and final vote he needs.”

  Strike’s eyes went wild. He grabbed the front of Rock’s jumpsuit, desperately shaking him. “No,” he said. “Don’t. You can’t put all this on me. It’s too much pressure. It’s not fair.”

  “I’m just speculating about some of it,” Rock said, struggling in a panic to free himself. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

  But Rock was rarely wrong.

  Strike let Rock go. He dropped his head into his hands. His body trembled as he fought to hold back the storm of tears, the frustration and despair threatening to tear him apart.

  “Strike?” Rock asked. “Are you okay? Maybe we should head back. Do more planning for the Neutrons game. We have to win this one.”

  “Gimme a moment, okay?”

  Rock wavered. But he nodded and left.

  Strike stared into the gaping quarry, his head spinning as he tried to make sense of everything. Why does all of this have to be on me? All I ever wanted to do is win an Ultrabowl for my Miners.

  Strike had come to the junk hole to mull over the stomach-churning thought that he had been trying so hard to ignore. But facts were facts. Pickaxe had nearly cost the Miners a forfeit against the Explorers, for getting out of his Ultrabot suit on the field. He had almost cost the Miners another game with his offsides penalty and botched plays against the Beatdown.

  The idea of Pickaxe being in Zuna’s pocket was insane. Ever since the first day Strike had signed on with the Miners, Pickaxe and Nugget had been his loyal teammates. They had all been brought together by the fact that all of them had los
t someone to the Fireball Blast. But they had grown into something so much more. The Fireball Five had been through so many wars and battles together. There hadn’t been a single day where they didn’t at least see each other. They could almost read each other’s minds. Every one of them would die for Strike, and he’d do the same. Fireball Five forever.

  But that’s what Strike had thought about TNT.

  Strike couldn’t imagine that it was true. But now with the fate of an entire colony on the line, he had to face the horrible possibility that Pickaxe’s mistakes on the field might not be mistakes at all. Pickaxe and Nugget had been struggling to support their aunt Keiko for years now. Maybe Pickaxe was finally up against the wall.

  Desperate enough to take a payoff from Raiden Zuna.

  His stomach churning, Strike put his head between his knees. He stared down into the junk hole, his entire world decaying, rotting into trash.

  16

  Game 5 Vs. The North Pole Neutrons

  THE NEUTRONS VS. the Miners—the rematch of Ultrabowl IX the entire moon had been waiting for all season. A victory would put the Miners in charge of their own destiny, with the inside track to a first-place finish and home-field advantage in the semifinals.

  A loss would allow several hungry teams to claw their way to within striking distance of the Miners.

  What with the Miners’ increasing practice schedule, Strike had never conked out at bedtime so quickly in his life. But he never slept more than a few hours in a row, constantly waking up in a cold sweat. No matter how wrong and gut-wrenching it felt, Strike owed it to himself—to all of Taiko Colony—to figure out if Pickaxe had really taken a payoff from Raiden Zuna.

  The morning of the big game finally arrived. Five thousand fans in red jumpsuits booed as the Miners entered the massive cavern that housed Neutron Stadium. Giant Neutrons flags were raised at the four corners of the field, the Meltdown Gun logos blasting out their streams of nuclear radiation. There was barely any blue in the crowd—no one was stupid enough to come into Neutron territory with Taiko blue on, unless they wanted a trip to Salaam Hospital. Neutron posses roamed the stands, waiting to beat the living daylights out of anyone who even looked like a Miners fan.