Win

  Well, they’re right. But in order to stay alive I’ll need to come up with something else that will make them reevaluate me.

  Once again, I need to make myself very valuable.

  As I run, panting with exhaustion, near the rear of their group, I force myself to think, to go through all possible scenarios in which I emerge alive and somehow with an upper hand. Now that we’re out in the open and no longer locked in a room, escaping Deneb’s gang becomes more of a possibility.

  Think, Gwen, think!

  Soon, the choral hymn sounds to usher in Noon Ghost Time, and dozens of Games staff arrive to clean up the Game Zone. The team takes a meal break next to some pile of damaged scaffolding, littered with bodies, and I collapse on the ground, breathless from the constant running.

  Deneb’s cronies open their meal packs—which they’ve retrieved earlier—and pass around the water grails.

  “Here,” Kateb the Inventor says, turning to me briefly and offering a small water flask. His expression is unreadable, and in the light of day I can see his gaunt face and calm pale features. He is still in possession of his long folded weapon which I haven’t seen him use, even though he ran with it, and now the thing rests below his feet.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the water and gulping it desperately. The fact that my body is seriously dehydrated has been pushed to the back of my mind, but now in this slow moment, I am painfully aware of all my basic needs.

  I return the empty flask to its owner, wondering how he will react, but he doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve drunk all the water.

  “Kateb Nuletat, you’re a fool for giving her so much water!” Xofati notices our water exchange. “You might as well have poured it on the ground! Could’ve given it to me.”

  “It’s my water,” the Inventor says calmly, as he puts away the empty flask. “I do with it as I please. And it pleases me not to have to drag her dehydrated body after us.”

  Xofati gives both of us evil looks.

  “Shut up, all of you,” Fadut says, leaning toward us. “Listen to what Deneb just said. Did you hear?”

  “What did we miss?” Kateb asks in a bored tone, biting into a protein bar.

  Fadut smirks. “After dea meal is over, we’re going to challenge Sarpanit Latao and her team for the Red Grail.”

  “Good. It’s about time we engage in some real action.” Kateb leans forward and sweeps his fingers over his folded weapon in what could be a caress. “I was beginning to think I joined the wrong party.”

  Chapter 47

  So here I am, living a nightmare Games scenario. Not only am I a weird “death row” prisoner of the meanest, toughest gang of celebrity Contenders, but I’m going to be taking part in a massive team attack against another major team of Contenders for possession of the biggest Stage One prize, the Red Grail. Furthermore, this is a fight into which I am being dragged along while mostly unarmed. . . .

  Did I mention this is a crazy nightmare?

  Now that Deneb’s gang has a plan of action, their bored mood seems to lift with anticipation. They rush through their meal, and then discuss their method of taking down the other group. I listen to their low but energized voices, as their leader Deneb tells each team member what to do.

  According to the giant stadium screens and whatever snapshot views they display, Sarpanit Latao and her team is somewhere in the center of the arena. Ever since she retrieved the Red Grail from the summit of the central Red column structure, she and her cronies stayed mostly in the same place, occupying the Safe Base there. Unlike the other celebrity teams, Sarpanit’s group did not go out last night to raid and hunt, but wisely chose to stay put and defend their position. So far they have been successful.

  “We surround them and move in at the same time.” Deneb points out various spots with his finger along an invisible map on the floor. “Advance in pairs, and form a wide perimeter. Once in position, stay out of sight. Then attack on my signal.”

  The group divides into five pairs. I am the odd one remaining. Deneb casually instructs someone to watch me, almost as an afterthought. Xofati the Vocalist and a few of the others give me dirty looks, not too pleased with the arrangement.

  “Fine, you’re with me,” Kateb the Inventor tells me. He’s paired up with Fadut the Entrepreneur who only nods indifferently.

  “Stay close but not too close. Don’t get in the way of our movements,” Fadut says to me. “We’ll be watching you, so don’t try anything, for your own sake.”

  “Okay,” I say, glancing at the two of them, and adjusting the straps of my woefully emptied equipment bag at my waist.

  “All right, let’s head out,” Deneb commands the group.

  And we’re on the move.

  It takes us about five minutes to arrive at the general location of Sarpanit Latao’s camp. Surprisingly, her group is not inside their Safe Base on the upper levels of the red structure. Instead, they’re all out in the open, settled in the small clearing near the bottom of the structure, their belongings spread out in a messy encampment directly on ground level. They mill around there, looking around warily, a few seated on the floor next to their equipment bags. Sarpanit herself sits in a lotus position, with the Red Grail placed before her.

  As Kateb, Fadut, and I watch them from our designated hiding place on the opposite end of the clearing, we suddenly understand why.

  Even from where we hide, we can hear a familiar awful hum.

  That’s because the door of the Safe Base up on level five is being guarded by a hovering lineup of four drones. Yes, it’s the same exact thing as happened to us earlier at Deneb’s Safe Base. Looks like the Drone Master was here too, only this time he managed to lock out Sarpanit’s team, instead of locking them in—probably while they were out foraging for meal packets and water.

  Next to me, Fadut cusses softly. “More drones,” he whispers, glancing at us. “I hate these damn drones.”

  “You must admit, they give us an unexpected advantage,” Kateb replies. “Her team has been forced out in the open, with nowhere to hide. We can pick them off so much easier now.”

  “Heh, don’t underestimate Sarpanit Latao.” Fadut holds his gun up, ready to fire, and a small triangular shield gadget in his other hand. “This is not going to be easy.”

  Kateb smiles, fingers on his long mysterious weapon. “But it will be fun.”

  I bite my lip nervously, and clutch my equipment bag. I recall the words of my expert trainers: In times of need the equipment bag can be used as a bludgeon weapon, or as a shield.

  This is definitely going to be a time of need.

  Seconds later, Deneb’s signal is given, and we attack.

  The clearing erupts in gunfire and harsh yells, as lethal Contender pairs from Team Gratu rush their adversaries in Team Latao from all directions. Immediately the stadium audience picks up our battle and begins to chant “Sar-pa-nit! Sar-pa-nit!” alternating with “De-neb! De-neb!”

  I advance low to the ground, cringing and holding my bag as a shield at head level, moving close behind Fadut and Kateb who plunge forward, their weapons engaged.

  Kateb the Inventor presses a spring-loaded release on his weapon and suddenly it snaps open—not into a long spear as I guessed, but into an amazing monstrosity of spinning helicopter blades. He seems to be holding the post of a giant beach umbrella before him, and the swiftly turning blades form the circle of the deadly umbrella “canopy” with a diameter of at least five feet. . . . They spin so fast that they really do look like helicopter blades, and I’m not sure how many are there, because due to rapid motion they appear invisible. And amazingly, they act both as a shield from oncoming projectile fire, and as a cutting weapon. Truly, Kateb doesn’t need anything else, he simply plows his way forward, holding the helicopter weapon before him. I can understand how he must have impressed Deneb Gratu with this invention, enough to land him on this team.

  However, Team Latao is equally impressive. The instant we attack, they are ready for us, whirling aroun
d with deadly weapons and gadgets to face us. Sarpanit herself raises her hands and suddenly there’s a blue smoke cloud that fills the clearing. Instant low visibility for all of us equally . . . except, as we get close enough to make out the enemy figures, they’re all wearing special goggles, so suddenly they have the advantage.

  Of course they would be ready, I think, eyes tearing from the irritating smoke, as I move haphazardly behind Kateb and his crazy helicopter windmill that at least clears the smoke a few feet around us. They’re used to defending their seemingly vulnerable position, and it’s perfectly planned. How many other attacks did they turn to their advantage?

  As I think this, there’s a crazy melee ahead of me, surreal through the gradually dissipating smoke. It’s ten against ten, and Team Gratu is up-close and personal with Team Latao. Guns fire point-blank, shields deflect the laser fire and the projectiles. . . . Soon they are engaging in hand-to-hand combat . . . Er-Du forms flow in rapid transitions, metal blades clash, limbs flash in deadly motion.

  A few instants, and some of them go down. Gratu’s giant hulking Warrior is cut down by someone from Latao in Green. Then, the Gratu Animal Handler is shot multiple times, and his burning corpse falls. I blink and try to stay low and close behind Kateb as he plows forward, bringing down the Latao Entrepreneur with his rotating blades, then pursues someone in yellow. All of this is accompanied by screaming bursts of the spectator crowds, and enthusiastic announcer commentary, until the stadium vibrates with thunder. . . .

  Not sure what else is before us, except I think there’s Deneb Gratu himself, pounding another huge man in Red, the Latao Athlete—his direct Category opponent.

  I cringe helplessly as volleys of shots pass close by my head, and swing my useless equipment bag before my face like a stupid pillow. . . . Brilliant, Gwen, just brilliant.

  There’s a scream behind me, interrupted, and I see Xofati fall. She’s dead before she hits the ground, cut up by sword blades of a Latao Entertainer, and her blood starts pooling underfoot. I make an involuntary sound of panic and rush forward—or is it backward and sideways?—trying to avoid the blood slick, feeling helpless as hell, with no weapons, not even my stun gun. . . .

  The stupid blue smoke is fading, but there’s still enough of it to cause chaos. Kateb is suddenly too far from me, and Fadut is gone— I don’t see his body, so, not sure if he’s been killed or is just fighting out there, deeper in the smoke. No one else from Team Gratu is nearby.

  Crap! I’m unarmed and entirely alone!

  I clutch the equipment bag and then get down on all fours and start to crawl low to the ground, dragging the bag with one hand, because what else can I do? Maybe if I just get far away from the epicenter of the fight, I can either find shelter to survive the next few minutes, or literally just get away from these people once and for all.

  So I crawl, breathing heavily, and consider playing dead as another option. The smoke moves in vaporous swirls, showing clear patches now, so that I can see there’s more people nearby, all around, Contenders from both teams fighting hard. Yes, there’s fewer of them, with losses on both sides, but still at least a dozen remain.

  And just as I think there might be a clear path before me, I’m wrong. Instead of taking me farther from the scene, my crawling has gotten me deeper into the middle of the action. And now I’m literally underfoot, with three Contenders stepping over me, a Green and a Yellow fighting with long blades, and the third, none other than Sarpanit Latao herself.

  Oh, no! Oh, crap!

  Sarpanit is holding the Red Grail in one hand and a small unknown gadget in the other, either a firearm or a retractable shield. She watches the duel taking place with a blank look, and steps away almost daintily, maintaining a safe distance. No one else is currently attacking her.

  There’s just me, on the floor, a few feet away, frozen in terror, clutching the damn equipment bag.

  Sarpanit hasn’t noticed me down there yet, and she takes another step, unfortunately in my direction.

  My life flashes by before my eyes. Another instant, and she will step on me, see that I’m alive, and she will shoot me, or cut me, or—

  I panic.

  When I panic, I do crazy insane things. I act in ways that often surprise myself.

  Just as Sarpanit Latao gets close enough to step on me, I lash out, rising from the floor in pure reflex, like a coiled spring. But I don’t use the equipment bag, I let it fall.

  Instead, I use both my hands to grasp her around the waist, and I pull, finding leverage at her belt. Okay, I realize a second too late she is not wearing a belt—neither am I, our uniform doesn’t have belts.

  I’ve just grabbed the waistband of her pants. And the force of my hands bearing down has caused a rip—I hear something like a rip—and now the blue fabric is coming apart, and—oh my God—

  I’ve just pulled her pants down to her knees.

  Sarpanit Latao has no time to react—or at least she does react, but not to this—not to the insane fact that her legs are now tangled in her uniform pants. She takes a step, at the same time activating her gadget—a shield, thank goodness, not a firearm that can blow my head off. And just as she moves, she trips, and goes down, flying over me and letting go of the Red Grail in that instant, in order to land on her hands and stop her fall.

  The Red Grail goes flying also, and it lands with a clank, just out of her reach.

  It rolls to a stop near my face.

  And so, in crazy reflex I simply reach for it and take the Red Grail, and continue moving, at the same time as I realize I’ve begun to shriek. Shrieking in sheer panic, I crawl violently on my knees and elbows, advancing several more feet along the floor, while Sarpanit Latao clutches her sprained arm in pain and tries to follow me. . . . That’s when I spring up and start to run, holding the Red Grail and still shrieking my head off.

  What am I doing? Where am I going? I don’t know! It’s as if someone lit a fire under me. . . .

  I run about five steps, pulse pounding, when suddenly I feel a huge hand grab me by the back of my shirt collar, and it’s Deneb Gratu.

  “Whoa!” he exclaims, and for the first time I see his cold blue eyes light up with amusement and hear a deep laugh, as his grinning face looms near my ear.

  “Nice prize, Earth Princess!” he exclaims, looking at the Red Grail in my hands. “Look what you’ve got there for me! Well done!”

  “Here! Take it! Take it!” I cry breathlessly, offering the Red Grail to Deneb Gratu. “I don’t want it, please take it!”

  “Of course,” he says. “But first, let’s finish some business here.”

  Still holding me around the collar, Deneb Gratu points his big gun, but not at me. He takes aim and shoots multiple times at the floor where Sarpanit Latao is crawling with one elbow, unable to get up.

  I shut my eyes, but not before I see a horrible bloody mess happen.

  The fight is over in seconds. Now that she’s gone, the remaining members of Team Latao are picked off one by one, although at least a couple of them manage to get far enough to escape the massacre.

  “Should we go after them, Deneb?” Fadut says, motioning with his gun in the direction of the escaping runners. The smoke has mostly cleared now, and visibility is back to normal. The scene is filled with gruesome bloody bodies littering the clearing. Seven members of Team Gratu remain standing.

  “If you like,” Deneb says indulgently. “But I wouldn’t bother.” And he shakes me slightly by the scruff of my collar. “My Imperial Lady here has obtained a very pretty something for us. Considering the magnitude of the prize, I am going to indulge her a while longer before I claim her Favorite Kill points. How about until Midnight Ghost Time, eh?”

  I frown, looking at him, while all around the stadium the audience thunders in their seats. “I got you the Red Grail, jerk,” I say tiredly. “The least you can do is not kill me.”

  Deneb Gratu’s eyes retain their ice, even as he chuckles at me. “You know I still can’t do that, my dea
r Imperial Lady. It’s nothing personal, but your Favorite Kill points are so—”

  “About those Favorite Kill points—” The tattoo-covered Artist from Team Gratu clears his throat and points at the nearest scoreboard display. “Deneb, you might want to see this.”

  Deneb looks up, and so do I. And . . . wow.

  The scoreboard shows that I am no longer on top of the Favorite Kill list—that honor now belongs to someone called Oshaharat Feveh, a Technician. How much am I willing to bet that’s the name of the Drone Master?

  As for me, with every second the scoreboard refreshes, I’m falling lower and lower on the list, and my Favorite Kill points score is unraveling before my eyes.

  I had no idea that points can be removed, but apparently the audience is taking their votes back and no longer wants me dead! I’m going down at the rate of about five points a second!

  Deneb Gratu grunts, and for the first time appears to be stumped. “This is insane. You were close to two thousand points the last time we checked half an hour ago. And now—”

  “And now she is only worth seventy-eight . . . no, wait, sixty-seven points, and falling,” Kateb says, raising one brow. I notice his weapon is folded again, the helicopter killer blades retracted somewhere, so that it looks like nothing more than a short, stumpy trident.

  Then I realize something else, and my gut experiences a sudden pang of renewed terror, followed by a glimmer of hope. My Favorite Kill points are now worthless, so does that mean that I’m worthless as a high-level kill, or more likely to be killed for another reason? Or am I worth more alive?

  In other words, what is Deneb going to do with me?

  “Not much use killing her now, and it’s probably best you don’t.” Fadut stares at the scoreboard.

  “She does seem to have her uses,” Deneb says after a long pause. “And since it looks like we’ve lost a Vocalist, we have a Category vacancy.”