Gamers' Quest (12 page)

‘Got it!’ said the Prime Maintainer, holding up two cables, one in each hand. Their frayed ends sizzled with energy. ‘This will shut down the system for five minutes at which point it will reboot.’

‘NO!’ shouted the Fat Man.

‘You has lost!’ crowed Zyra, staggering to her feet.

As attention was focused on the Fat Man and the Prime Maintainer, Princeling Galbrath stepped forward and scooped up one of the gauntlets.

‘No,’ he said, his voice cold.

All eyes turned to him and the gauntlet that was now aimed at the Prime Maintainer.

‘You try to reboot the system, and I'll neutralise you.’

‘No you won't,’ said the Prime Maintainer.

‘I've disposed of more family members than I care to remember,’ said the princeling bitterly. ‘Do you really think I'm going to be concerned about killing you?’

‘Buts why?’ asked Tark, startled by the princeling's betrayal.

‘Environment!’ said the princeling. ‘The Prime Maintainer called this place an
environment.
That means that it's just another one of the games. This isn't real. It's just another game. A game that I intend to win.’

‘But you won't win,’ said Zyra, pointing to the Fat Man. ‘He'll win!’

The princeling turned to the screen and the image of the Fat Man. ‘If I stop him,’ he gestured to the Prime Maintainer, ‘what do I get?’

‘Anything,’ blustered the Fat Man, desperate to regain control. ‘Anything your treacherous little heart desires.’

‘My own personal Suburbia,’ said the princeling. ‘Somewhere that I can live out the rest of my life the way I want it. Where no one can hurt me. No games. No treachery.’

‘You have my word,’ said the Fat Man. ‘Now shoot him! Shoot him!’

The princeling fired. The Prime Maintainer dissolved in a burst of static, the cables dropping to the floor. The princeling turned to face Zyra and Tark.

‘Ya gonna shoots us too?’ asked Zyra, incredulous.

‘If I have to.’

Tark eyed the two cables, weighing up his chances of getting to them before the princeling shot him. Zyra caught his eye, then looked at the other gauntlet lying on the floor. Tark looked down at it. It was fairly close. He could probably get to it, if only he could distract the princeling.

Suddenly, Zyra's remaining knife was momentarily in her hand before being flung at the princeling. As Princeling Galbrath shielded himself with the gauntlet, Zyra swirled in a circle, pulling off her coat as she went and flinging it after the knife.

This was all the distraction that Tark needed. He launched himself at the second gauntlet.

The princeling deflected the knife and fired the gauntlet. Zyra's precious coat dispersed in a sizzle of static to reveal Tark standing with the second gauntlet pointed at the princeling.

‘Gives it up,’ said Tark.

‘Not a chance,’ said the princeling. ‘I am a princeling. I don't take orders from a common thiever.’

The princeling fired a burst of static.

Tark fired a burst of static.

The two eruptions met with a thunderous roar, the impact knocking everyone to the floor.

As soon as he regained his senses the princeling tried firing again, but his gauntlet was useless. It was then that they all noticed the ball of fiery static hanging in the middle of the room. The princeling scrambled to his feet. Tark and Zyra were already standing well back, watching it. The ball of static pulsed and sizzled as if it were alive.

‘It's getting bigger,’ said Zyra.

The princeling stooped and snatched up Zyra's deflected knife. He took careful aim and threw it at the ball. The knife exploded in a burst of static as soon as it came in contact with the ball.

The ball grew bigger at a faster pace.

‘Ya snot-rag!’ yelled Zyra. ‘Ya've mades it worse!’

The pulsating static ball continued to grow and touched the top of the Maintainer's chair, which promptly burst into static, feeding the ball, enlarging it even further.

‘Do something,’ demanded the princeling, looking up at the Fat Man on the main screen.

‘I can't,’ said the Fat Man, the colour draining from his face.

The ball was now as big as the princeling, and still growing.

Tark ran for the cables.

But so did the princeling.

They each snatched up a cable.

‘Hands it ova!’ Tark shouted.

‘I will not let you win,’ said the princeling.

‘We is gonna die if we don't restart the system,’ said Tark.

‘This is just a game,’ insisted the princeling, a tinge of uncertainty creeping into his voice. ‘We are not going to die.’

Zyra circled around the ball and came up behind the princeling. She grabbed the cable, but the princeling continued to hold on and struggle. Zyra bared her studded teeth and bit his arm, wrenching the cable from his grasp as she did so. The princeling clutched his arm and staggered backwards towards the ball, now twice his size. He tried desperately to regain his footing, but couldn't. Tark reached out a hand to try and help him, but he was too late.

‘Nooo!’ screamed the princeling, as his hand brushed the pulsating ball.

In a flash of static, he was gone, his plaintive cry echoing through the control room.

The ball pulsed with energy and expanded rapidly, devouring monitors and wires and controls into its sparkling grey depths. The room would be consumed within seconds. Tark and Zyra had no time to think. They leapt for each other, cables held out in front of them. The frayed ends met just as the edge of the expanding ball reached them.

And then there was nothing.

Tark and Zyra awoke in their basement. Everything was back in place. There was no sign of the damage done by Vera.

Tark sat up on his mouldy, lumpy mattress, and looked across the basement at Zyra who was sitting up on her mattress.

‘I guess it's done,’ he whispered.

Zyra nodded, then a smile spread across her face. ‘We beats the Fat Man.’

‘Yeah.’ Tark smiled in return. ‘We dids.’

‘We saved everything!’

‘Yeah,’ Tark agreed. ‘We dids.’

‘Unless,’ said Zyra quietly. ‘Unless all that wuz a game, too.’

They climbed slowly to their feet and walked around the basement, looking at everything, examining ordinary things, running hands and fingers across walls, over chairs, through the dust and dirt. It was all familiar, it was all the same, and yet it was so different. Zyra looked down at herself. She was wearing her leather coat.

‘A game,’ whispered Tark. ‘We is in a game.’

‘Maybe,’ said Zyra.

‘So do we play?’ asked Tark. ‘Does we goes on likes before?’

‘Wot else is there?’

‘Us,’ said Tark, walking over to Zyra and reaching out a hand to touch her arm.

‘But it's against the rules.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ agreed Tark. ‘But the Designers is gone. And I don'ts care.’

He took Zyra's hand in his and leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. ‘Alls I cares about … is …’

He leaned closer.

‘… you.’

And as their lips met, everything changed.

My thanks to Paul Collins who published my short story ‘Game Plan’ in his anthology,
Trust Me!
(Ford Street, 2008) and to Meredith Costain who first suggested that I should expand it into a novel. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my wife, Kerri, who read and commented on my first outline and early drafts. Her feedback had considerable influence on the final direction of the novel. Thanks also to Saralinda Turner for her insightful editorial comments.

To read more stories featuring the characters in this book, go to
www.gamersquestbook.com