Ultraball #1

by Jeff Chen

  Standing by the door was TNT.

  Strike ran up, hissing into his ear. “Are you crazy? If a single Miners fan sees you, you’re going to get torn to shreds. How did you get in here, anyway?”

  “Strike,” TNT said. His words came out as if he was being strangled. “I really have to talk to you. In private.” TNT grabbed the front of Strike’s jumpsuit. His eyes flicked to Boom. “Please. I have proof.”

  A voice yelled out from the far end of the tunnel, and two guys in black jumpsuits came running toward TNT. “Hey, you!”

  Strike yanked TNT into the locker room ahead of everyone else and ushered him out the back way. “Meet up at our spot at the usual time. Now get out of here. Use the left emergency exit. Run!”

  “Watch your back, Strike. I’ll bring the proof tonight.” TNT slipped out and took off.

  One of them barged into the locker room a few seconds later. He grabbed Torch by the front of his jumpsuit and shook him. “Where did that intruder go?”

  “It’s okay,” Strike said. “Just a fan wanting an autograph, that’s all.”

  The other Blackguard shoved Torch against a wall and then glared at Strike. “Careful of how you speak to a Blackguard, boy. Now, which way did the intruder go?”

  Strike pointed to the back of the locker room. “Took the right exit.”

  “You better hope we find him.” The Blackguards knocked hard into Strike as they took off, heading the wrong way.

  “You let TNT escape?” Rock said after the Blackguards disappeared. “Not a logical decision.”

  “Or was it?” Boom asked. “Maybe TNT is actually on to something.”

  Rock scratched his head. “Really? But with the confidence Strike has shown in Pickaxe, he’s back on track. Outstanding play in the first half.”

  “That’s right,” Boom said. “Pickaxe is a true Miner.” She grabbed Rock’s shoulder with her left hand and shoved him down onto a bench.

  “What are you doing?” Rock asked. “Why did you push me—”

  “Just shut up and sit down.”

  Rock looked at her and then at Strike, his face quizzical. “Strike?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

  Boom shot a glance at Strike before he could respond. “That was an awesome first half,” she said. “But did you catch the score on the Flamethrowers game?”

  “Flamethrowers are up, 42–28,” Pickaxe said. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to pass them in total points.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Boom said. “We have to pull out all the stops. If it’s okay with Strike, I think we should roll out the new dual quarterback sets. All of them.” She raised an eyebrow at Strike.

  “Good idea,” Strike said, straining to keep his words relaxed and easy. “I like Boom’s thinking. Let’s do it.”

  The rest of the Miners looked at each other, exchanging bewildered glances. “But I thought we were going to save them for the Ultrabowl,” Rock said. “That’s when we’ll really need our secret weapons.”

  “Rock has a point,” Torch said. “Is now the time to pull them out?”

  Rock nodded. “This is absolutely the wrong situation to—”

  “Quiet!” Boom shot Rock a look that stunned him into silence. She nodded at Strike. “We’re agreed, then. Roll out all the new dual QB sets. We need to put a lot of points on the board.”

  “Go big or go home,” Strike said. “I bet each one of those plays will score us a quick touchdown.”

  “This is insanity,” Rock said. “We must save these critical plays to use against the Neutrons—”

  “I said, shut the frak up!” Boom’s icy stare made Rock shrink down into his bench seat.

  “But Rock is right,” Torch said. “You’re on a roll right now. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Keep those dual QB sets in your back pocket, Strike. If you use those plays now, the Neutrons will know exactly what to expect.”

  “Or do they already know exactly what to expect?” Boom asked.

  The locker room went quiet. Pickaxe and Nugget looked at each other, their foreheads wrinkled in confusion.

  Boom pulled something out of her left jumpsuit pocket. She held up a picture of the inside of a late-night tram, showing it to everyone. It was dark, bathed in the shadows of the Tunnel Ring, making it tough to see much detail. Two were people sitting next to each other. One was wearing a dirty Taiko Colony jumpsuit, with a gray star-shaped blotch on the back. Another was a big guy in the bright red jumpsuit of North Pole Colony.

  Pushing over a briefcase.

  Boom stepped in front of Torch, tilting her head up, locking onto him with a fiery gaze.

  All eyes focused on Torch. He pushed his black hair into a curtain over his eyes. “Why are you all looking at me?” he asked.

  Boom took deliberate steps toward him, cracking her knuckles. “The last play of our game against the Neutrons. It was like they knew exactly what play we’d be running. Because they did.”

  “What are you talking about?” Torch said. He squeezed his hands together, fidgeting with the front of his dirty blue jumpsuit, caked nearly gray with moon dust. “How would the Neutrons know what to expect?”

  “Because you sold Raiden Zuna those plays,” Boom said.

  Nugget sucked in a sharp gasp.

  Torch froze in stunned silence before shaking his head. He let out a nervous laugh. “You’re joking, right? I mean, come on. Strike, what is she talking about? This is ridiculous. Frakkin’ insane.” His eyes darted about the room, at all the Miners staring at him. His breathing went shallow. “Wait. Are you saying you think that guy in that picture is me? What the frak has gotten into all of you? Are you all crazy?”

  Boom’s right hand shot out, grabbing Torch’s shoulder to spin him around. “Look.” She pointed to a gray blotch on the back shoulder of his jumpsuit.

  It was the same star shape as in the picture.

  “Rock,” Boom said. “When I sent you out the other day, what did you find?”

  Puzzled, Rock squinted as everyone turned to him. “I located a record of admission into Salaam Colony’s hospital for Torch’s little sister. Jasmine Tariq is currently in treatment for a severe case of dust poisoning. But what does that have to do with . . .” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

  Strike’s vision blurred through the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at his boyhood idol, the QB he’d grown up wanting to be exactly like. He had seen Torch do amazing things on the field. He had watched in astonishment as Torch ran up walls as if gravity had somehow been turned off, made the first superjump off an opponent’s back, and even skimmed along the steel ceiling of Beatdown Stadium using his electromagnetic gloves. Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he forced himself to stare at Torch. “How could you, man? I trusted you. And you sold me out. You sold all of us out.”

  Torch’s face crinkled. A tortured moan rumbled from somewhere deep inside him, and he slammed an open palm into a locker. “I told you not to use the highball bounce during the Neutrons game. Strike, I pleaded with you not to use it. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  Pickaxe’s eyes narrowed as he connected the dots. “This entire time, you let Strike believe I was the traitor,” he said. “You skated along while I took all the heat.” He curled his hands into fists. “I’m going to kill you!” He charged at Torch.

  Jumping in his way, Boom wrapped Pickaxe up, Rock stepping in to help.

  “Let me go!” Pickaxe said, spittle flying from his mouth as he fought like a wild animal to tear into Torch. “I’m going to rip his throat out!”

  “I never thought it would hurt the team,” Torch said, his voice hollow. “You have to believe me. I had to find a way to take care of my little sister. She had dust poisoning. What was I supposed to do? She was going to die. I just sold Zuna a few plays. Just a couple. Only the ones that I thought you would never actually use.”

  “But you didn’t say anything during the Neutrons game, did you?” Strike said. “We’re fighting
for our playoff lives right now, because of you. And I was saving the dual quarterback sets for the Ultrabowl. I thought they would be our secret weapon.”

  “I would have come clean if it had come to that. Honest, Strike, I would have.”

  “You would have single-handedly cost Taiko Colony its future. Three thousand people, with no place to live. Three thousand people, dead. Because of you.”

  “What?” Torch said. He took a step back, his lower lip trembling in horror. “Three thousand people, dead? What are you talking about?”

  “If Zuna becomes Taiko Colony’s governor, he’s going to crater it,” Strike said. “So he can harvest all the ice deposits underneath.”

  “No,” Torch said. “That’s frakkin’ crazy. Zuna is shady, but he’s no murderer. He couldn’t do that, anyway. No one could.” He looked around the room for support. “Right?”

  Rock turned away, his eyes closed. He shook his head.

  Boom clenched her jaw tight. Veins in her neck throbbed.

  “Oh my God,” Torch said in a low rasp. “Oh my God. What have I done? I didn’t know, Strike. Honest. I didn’t know.”

  Strike spoke through gritted teeth. “Get out of here.”

  “But, Strike—”

  “Get out!”

  Pickaxe writhed in fury, thrashing in an attempt to shake loose from Boom and Rock. “We teach him a lesson,” he growled. “The traitor deserves a beatdown.”

  Torch closed his eyes and slumped onto a bench. “You’re right. I deserve to be beaten to a pulp. I won’t fight back. Hurt me. Knock me unconscious. Kill me. Please. I deserve to die.”

  “I get the first punch,” Pickaxe said.

  Strike studied the broken teenager, his head turned to the side as he braced for the beating to come. “Leave.”

  “Please, Strike,” Torch said. “Hit me. Hard. I stabbed you in the back.”

  “You did,” Strike said, his tone eerily gentle. “But you did it for your sister. And you didn’t know about Taiko Colony. So get lost. Don’t ever let us see your face again.” He grabbed the shoulder of Torch’s jumpsuit and pulled him to his feet. He led him to one of the emergency exits.

  Torch took a step through the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at Strike, tears pooling in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, he dropped his head and ran.

  “Why didn’t you at least let me throw one punch?” Pickaxe said. “I would have floored him.”

  “And why did you keep me in the dark?” Rock asked. “For a horrible moment, I thought you were accusing me of being a traitor.”

  “Sorry, Rock,” Boom said. “But you have a terrible poker face.”

  “The worst,” Strike added.

  “I couldn’t risk you asking questions,” Boom said. “I had to make Torch confess.”

  “But why?” Rock said. “You had the evidence you needed to prove his guilt . . .” His eyebrows shot up as he pointed to her right hand. “Oh. I see.”

  All eyes locked onto Boom’s hand. She raised it, holding out her palm to show everyone gritty gray debris.

  Shaped like a star.

  “You tricked him?” Strike said. He looked at his own hand, covered with traces of a sticky gray sludge, from when he had grabbed Torch’s shoulder to lead him out. “You planted a pattern of dirt on his back when you spun him around?”

  Boom nodded. “I’m so sorry about keeping you in the dark, Rock. But you would have given away my plan with just one look.” She took another look at the grainy picture of the two guys inside the tram. “It took my friends so much to get this. I was almost positive it was one of Zuna’s guys giving Torch a payoff. But it’s fuzzy enough that Torch could have denied it. So we had to doctor up the picture, to add that gray star to the back of his jumpsuit. To trap him.”

  “Clever thinking,” Rock said. He exchanged glances with Strike, raising his eyebrows again. “I’m sure glad Boom’s on our side.”

  Boom glanced at the wall clock, ticking down. Just five minutes until the start of the second half. “We need to work on the game plan.”

  Although Strike wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed and forget everything he ever knew about Torch, he would have plenty of time to mourn the betrayal later. Now was the time to rally his team to victory. “Okay, guys. We have to move out of the fourth playoff seed and up to the third. Let’s figure out how we’re going to score a record number of touchdowns.” He gathered everyone around the monitor, motioning for Boom to draw Xs and Os.

  Nodding as he watched Boom sketch out plays, Strike tried his best to concentrate on the game plan. But part of him kept on thinking about how awesome it was going to be to meet up with TNT at the junk hole at midnight.

  Strike allowed the tiniest glimmer of hope to grow in his chest. TNT had been wrong about Boom being a traitor, but he had been right about something critically important. He had saved the Miners, tipping Strike off about a real plot against them. Maybe if TNT would just tell him why he had done it last year, things might—in time—go back to the way they used to be.

  Maybe someday, the Fireball Five would be back. Stronger than ever.

  Fireball Five forever, he thought.

  Strike barely heard Boom as she gathered everyone up for the “Miners together, Miners forever” chant, his smile growing bigger and bigger at the thought of TNT one day becoming his best friend, his sworn brother once again.

  During the second half, the Miners gambled with trick defenses, including five-man nuclear blitzes, spearing double slingshots over the line of scrimmage, and sneak jumps out of disruptor zones for interceptions. Some of those gigantic risks led to Shock touchdowns, but that was okay—it meant that the Miners got the ball back quickly for more chances to score.

  Strike kept a close eye on the Beatdown and Flamethrower game updates on the scoreboard. The Beatdown were racking up TDs. They were going to lock up the second seed in the playoffs, so the Miners turned their attention to catching the Flamethrowers, who were still within reach.

  Deep into the fourth quarter, the Miners huddled up on defense. “The Flamethrowers just scored again,” Boom said, pointing to the standings at the top of the scoreboard. “That puts us into a dead tie. Only thirty seconds left on the clock. We have to get the ball back and score again.”

  “We have one chance to cause a fumble,” Strike said. “Stunt blitz motor right. Hit low, hit hard. Do whatever it takes to knock the ball loose.”

  The Miners jogged to the line of scrimmage. Boom went into motion as the Shock got set. Anticipating the count perfectly, she rushed around the right side as the Shock QB, White Lightning, handed off to High Voltage. Boom slammed into the lead blocker and tried to spin off him, but another blocker came in to pancake her.

  Strike hurdled over the pile Boom had made, and slammed High Voltage backward. He wrapped him up and punched, trying to wrestle the Ultraball away, but High Voltage had his glove electromagnets engaged at full. Strike pushed his Ultrabot suit into its highest gear. Red lights flashed in his helmet, warning him that his power level was critically low. But everything came down to this one play. Driving his legs hard, he brute-forced High Voltage toward a disruptor zone. They tumbled in. Strike’s heads-up display went berserk, fireworks of lights popping in front of his eyes. He swung away blindly at High Voltage, his fists connecting like jackhammers. He lurched forward as someone leapt on top of him, and then others dog-piled them. His helmet hit the ground, and soon, he couldn’t move.

  A whistle sounded. The disruptor zone turned off, suddenly clearing everything in front of Strike’s eyes. Someone pulled him to his feet as the pile got untangled. He groaned when he saw High Voltage curled up on the ground. He had a death grip on the Ultraball.

  The Shock started to huddle up. But after looking up to the scoreboard, their QB waved them off. With just twenty seconds left and the clock still running, White Lightning shrugged and motioned his team toward their sideline. Waves of fans in orange and blue jumpsuits beg
an to head for the exits.

  Strike fell to his knees in despair. They had come so far. Everything had gone their way today. But the Miners had fallen short at the last minute. Having already used their one and only time-out earlier in the game, the Miners could do nothing to stop the final seconds from ticking away. The game was over. Because the Miners had scored exactly the same number of points as the Flamethrowers over the course of the season, losing to them in their head-to-head matchup meant the Flamethrowers had earned the third seed in the playoffs.

  The Miners had fallen into the dreaded fourth seed. It was what Berzerkatron and the Mad Mongol called “The Seed of Death.” Next week they’d have to play a brutal semifinals game against the North Pole Neutrons. At Neutron Stadium.

  Boom raced to White Lightning and flipped her visor to clear. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back here and finish this game.”

  White Lightning put a hand in Boom’s face and walked away.

  “Coward. The mighty White Lightning, running away. From a Dark Sider.”

  He flipped his helmet to clear, glaring at her over his shoulder. “You sure got a big mouth.”

  “Let’s go,” Boom yelled. “You and me, one-on-one. I’ll beat you down so hard you’ll cry to your mama. Or are you going to let my butt in your face be the number one play tonight on LunarSports Reports? SmashMouth Radio Blitz is going to have a field day with this. Berzerkatron and the Mad Mongol are going to skewer you.” She turned around and stuck out her read end at him, wiggling it back and forth. “This is how White Lightning’s career is going to end. Well, you can just can kiss my—”

  “That’s it.” The QB signaled for the Shock’s time-out. Staring daggers at Boom, he snarled. “A hundred U-bucks says I score on you.”

  Strike inhaled sharply. A hundred U-bucks was a fortune.

  “Deal,” Boom said. “You and me, one-on-one in the open field.”

  They set up at the line of scrimmage as the time-out expired. The refs exchanged glances, but they stood in their regular positions on the field.