Shockball (44 page)

“Do you know where the players’ locker room is?”

“Yes.”

“Take me there.”

We found a couple of small containers to put the cats in, which did not make us very popular with the felines.

I wrestled with Jenner. “Thanks for bringing the cats, I think.”

Hawk tried to stroke Juliet’s head and reassure her as he lowered her into her temporary carrier. She clawed both his arms. “After last night, I was afraid Rico might harm them.”

Once His and Her Majesty were secure, we carried them with us to the arena’s lower corridors level. I filled Hawk in about some of what Rico had revealed to me, including the delusional plot to spread the syphilis bacteria throughout Four Mountains.

“If I am able to get out of here today, I’m finding a way for Reever and I to get off the planet. You need to warn the tribal council at Four Mountains. Tell them everything I’ve told you about the disease. Give them the books Wendell found. They will help.” I recalled what Rico had said. “Do you think they’ll try to ignore or conceal it?”

“The old way was to revere those whose minds existed in other worlds,” Hawk said. “Rico believes, as they did, that the mental illness he suffers is enlightenment. But I don’t think the Navajo will wait and watch their people suffer the same fate. They will go to the reservation doctors.”

We were nearly to the underground access panel when someone stepped out into the hall directly in front of us. I relaxed when I saw that the figure had a flight suit on and a smiling, happy Terran face with two distinct bumps on the top of his head.

“It’s Dhreen,” I said to Hawk. “He’s on our side. Come on.”

Dhreen removed his Lok-Teel mask and checked his wristcom as we reached him. “About time. I was going to come down looking for you. Sphere-drop is in only a few minutes. Reever’s playing first string today.”

“No, he isn’t.” I quickly explained the circumstances behind the pending disaster, then asked, “If I can get Reever out of the arena, can you take us to a place where they won’t find us for a while?”

“I can get you off planet, if you want.”

“You got a starshuttle?”

“I stole it, just like you told me to.” Dhreen’s smile wavered a little. “There’s only one thing I want in return.”

Probably wanted me to check Ilona and see if she had a little horn-earned bundle on the way. “Name it.”

“What your father promised to do. Help my people. Come to Oenrall with me and cure them of the sickness they have.”

I’d agree to anything to get to Reever and prevent California from splitting into a lot of little pieces.

“Sure, I’ll go. I don’t know about a cure, but I’ll give it my best shot.” I glanced at Hawk, who was lagging behind. “Give me a minute.”

I walked back to where he stood. “You’re not coming with me, are you?”

“No. Dhreen can take you the rest of the way.”

“I can’t repay you for what you’ve done for me. You’ve saved my life twice. You opened my eyes to a lot of things I’d never considered, too.”

“It is trivial compensation for what you’ve done for me.”

I thought of him living in those underground tunnels, never feeling the sunlight on his face. “Come with us. We’ll find a better world.”

“No, patcher. As tempting as it sounds, I belong in
Leyaneyaniteh
, with my chief. He will need me even more after today.”

“If that’s your final word.” I put my arms around his contorted body, and hugged him. “I’m going to miss you. Thank you for helping me understand my blood. I’ll always think of you whenever I hear anyone sing.”

He held me tight for a moment, then let go and hobbled off.

Dhreen led me to the locker room, and the Oenrallian filled me in on the starshuttle he’d “borrowed” from a Terran trade jaunter who was at that moment sleeping off the flask of spicewine he’d consumed, courtesy of Dhreen.

“After I used his access chips, I wondered if anyone would try and halt me, even with the mask. It was more rudimentary than I contemplated. I strolled in purloined it from the nucleus of New Angeles Transport, can you put faith in that?”

If I could understand half of what he was spouting. “Do you know something, Dhreen? The more nervous you get the worse you massacre my native language.”

“Literally?”

“Really.”

The interior of the locker room was littered with discarded clothes and damp towels. Someone had prematurely opened a bottle or two, and the smell of synalcohol was strong. A maintenance drone trundled around, collecting the used linens for sterilization. It halted as soon as it picked us up on its sensors.

“May I be of assistance?”

Dhreen peeled off his Lok-Teel mask and handed it to me before he went over to the drone. With a single jerk, he tore the entire operational system— core, panels, and circuitry—off the back of the drone. Towels thudded to the floor, then the unit collapsed on top of them.

I just stood there and stared. “That was… efficient.”

“You still haven’t said how you plan to get out on the field.”

I located Black Otter’s locker, which contained a clean uniform and helmet. He’d been unable to play since escaping the hospital. I slipped the Lok-Teel under my tunic. “You’re going to put me in the game.”

Once we had stowed the cats in a safe place, Dhreen helped me with the disguise. The outer uniform jersey and leggings were made of a elastic material, suitable for fitting over the various body protectors I had to strap on. The thick protective pads and thermal leggings to prevent discharge burn weighed about as much as I did. By the time he handed me the helmet to wear over my face, I was ready to topple over.

“How do they run wearing all this stuff?” I took an experimental step and nearly went sprawling on the floor. “Never mind run—how do they walk?”

I took a few minutes to practice balancing on the special footgear designed for the synthetic grass of the arena field, then sighed. “This is as steady as I’m going to get.”

“Right on time, Doc.” Dhreen nodded toward the field. “The amusement’s about to commence.”

Emerging from the locker room into the players’ walkway was an experience. Extra seating had been installed overhead to accommodate the additional spectators for the World Game, and some three hundred thousand fans stood shrieking for their teams.

“Ear plugs,” I muttered as we cringed under the solid wall of sound. “I should have remembered ear plugs.”

The Gliders’ familiar red-and-black team colors dominated the arena, as they were not only the home team, but favored to win this final match. Everywhere I looked, fans sported the mini black-winged hats and divided red-and-black face paint.

Vendors circled on modified hover boards, advertising their wares by using holo-imaged signs slung around their necks. They sold everything, from the traditional popcorn and synbeef dogs to more exotic treats like Fhirrede iced curds and Kirlian colas. The official team bands were trying so hard to outplay each other, their songs tangled into a noisy jumble of notes.

Dancers were still writhing in their glittering costumes all over the playing field, tumbling into acrobatic formations, shooting off small versions of the fireworks that would fill the skies above the arena once the contest was over.

But there wouldn’t be any fireworks today, I reminded myself, if I didn’t get moving and find Reever.

I stepped out of the passage and onto the boundary between the arena seating and the Gliders’ sideline area. I was sweating and terrified I’d be stopped for some ridiculous reason.

“Swagger,” I heard Dhreen say.

I turned around. “What?”

“Swagger. Sashay. Strut.” He threw up his hands, in disgust with stanTerran, me, or both. “Walk like you’re a shockball player.”

I tried to swagger. It was a fairly insurmountable task, with all the equipment weighing me down. Maybe I should take off my helmet, give everyone one of my patented haughty looks. That might chase people away. Just as I loosened the straps, I remembered.

There were no female players on the Gliders’ team.

Scratch looking haughty and unapproachable.

As I walked down the sidelines, a couple of drone officials buzzed around me, then scanned the code on my player’s badge and whizzed off. The fans hit new heights in sound pollution as they screeched for the game to begin. Glancing up at those thousands of rabid, thrilled faces made my stomach roll.

They can’t wait to see someone go down and fry.

The two bands called a temporary truce as the pre-game performers left the field, and began striking up the opening notes of the World Anthem. I had no choice but to follow the Gliders as they trotted out onto the field.

Finally I saw Reever’s number fourteen on the other end of the line, but the song was already playing and I couldn’t move out of place. I’d have to catch him before he took up his position.

The anthem ended, and the fans cheered. I tried to dart down to the other end of the line, but a drone buzzed in my face before I had gone more than a dozen steps toward Reever.

“Defense will remain on the sidelines. Offense will compete for possession of the sphere.”

Just my luck, Reever was on offense. I wasn’t.

The Gliders won the drive, and the first play was in motion by the time I spotted Reever again. He ran the sphere, passing it back and forth in a triangular motion between him and two other offensive runbacks. The opposing team smashed into all three of them, and Reever went down on top of the sphere.

I stood frozen, waiting for something to blow.

“First sphere down!” A drone official called. “Second in four point three!”

The stomping and yelling became synchronized, and directed at Reever. “
Nilch’i’! Nilch’i’! Nilch’i’
!”

I measured the distance the Gliders would have to run to get to the touchzone. About sixty yards. Reever and the other players were huddled together at the lineup. Maybe I could catch his attention from the sidelines, call him over before the next drive started.

I tried to link, but I was still too far away. So I waved my arms and yelled, “Duncan!”

A couple of the players on the field glanced at me, but no one moved out of the huddle. Someone cuffed me on the back of the head. “Shut up, Otter! He can hardly hear to call his plays!”

I looked up at Handsome Runner, who was glowering down at me. “Sorry.”

“You are not Black Otter.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Second string,” I mumbled, and quickly dodged around him to walk out of questioning range. Along the way, a couple of the players pummeled me with their fists.

“Otter, good to see you!”

“I thought you had taken up weaving!”

“Does the chief know you’re back?”

The next drive began, which drew everyone’s attention back to the game. I hid behind a couple of line drones, trying to see another way to get on the field, and praying Reever would lose possession of the sphere.

He didn’t. The Gliders got to the forty.

I tried to sneak onto the field a couple of times, until the drones got tired of me and warned me one more attempt would result in an auto-penalty. My attempts to link also failed. Reever, on the other hand, was doing a brilliant job of moving the sphere down the field, getting closer and closer to the touchzone.

The thirty. The twenty. The closer he got, the more I shook.

At the twenty, the team lined up in touchzone formation. I knew that from the excited cheers of the players.

“Bring it down, bring it down!”

“Shove that sphere pole down his throat!”

“Go for it, you can do it, you can do it!”

I had to do it now, before the next drive started. I stepped over the boundary line and an official immediately buzzed over to block my path,

“Defense will remain on the sidelines until possession of the sphere changes teams.”

I doused the drone with the cup of JocAid I’d gotten for that specific purpose, and ran onto the field. “Duncan!”

He was still in the huddle, still unable to hear me. The sound of the boos and hisses from the fans was merciless. A cluster of drone officials was heading to intercept me. I’d never make it. But I was close enough now to link.

Duncan, damn it, look at me!

Reever straightened and stared out of the huddle, looking around. As I ran toward him, I lifted my hands to take my helmet off so he could see my face.

Duncan, you’re in danger, can you hear me? Whatever you do, don’t make the sphere-down.

The next thing I knew I was being dragged off the field. I fought, desperate to get loose and get to Reever. Whoever had me held on tight. Through my helmet, I heard the low, familiar sneer.