The Quillan Games (22 page)

“Please, Veego,” Nevva Winter begged. “This is totally irregular.”

“What if I don't want to play?” I asked.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Veego said. “It would prove to the trustees that you are unworthy, and you would be executed.”

Oh.

“And what happens if I play and lose?” I asked.

Veego smiled and said, “That would also make me happy, because the situation would be resolved.”

“You don't want to lose at Tock,” Nevva Winter cautioned me.

That sounded ominous. I was beginning to think that making Veego happy meant making me dead. Not a lot of choices. Like I wrote to you guys before, on Quillan you play. You win, or you pay.

It looked like Challenger Red was about to make his debut.

(CONTINUED)

“I
thought I passed the test,” I said to Veego. “Why are you putting me through this?”

“Because I don't like being told how to run my business,” Veego answered with a snarl. “I don't know why the trustees are forcing me to use you in the competitions. Their meddling will be the ruin of my games.”

“And mine!” LaBerge threw in.

“So you want me to get beaten before I can ruin your games?” I asked. “Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Veego said. “Then again, I'm not one to miss an opportunity. If it turns out that you actually have some ability, this little diversion will start to build some excitement around you.”

“Uhhh . . . what does that mean?” I asked.

“If you're going to compete, I want the betting to be strong. That won't happen unless the people love you . . . or hate you.”

“So how are you going to do that?” I asked.

Veego gave me one of her icy smiles and gestured for me to enter the arena. “Let's find out.”

“Veego,” Nevva Winter protested. “This game hasn't been scheduled. It goes against every protocol I can think of that—”

“Then stop thinking, Miss Winter,” Veego said coldly.

A million questions flashed through my head. Who were the trustees? I guessed that in some way they were the bosses of Veego and LaBerge, but what kind of business were they running that had to do with these deadly games? Whatever it was, Saint Dane was somehow involved. He had to be. Who else would know about me?

The answer to that mystery was going to have to wait. I first had to survive this latest challenge that Veego was throwing at me.

“This way, Challenger Red,” LaBerge said while gesturing into the arena.

I thought about running away, but the two dados that suddenly appeared behind me ended that idea. I was trapped. I stood up from my chair and walked toward the arena entrance. Nevva Winter stood with her arms folded tightly in front of her. She seemed genuinely nervous about what was going to happen. Join the club. I wasn't sure if she was worried about me, or about what her bosses would say if something bad happened to me.

I stopped right in front of her and asked, “Can you stop this?”

Her gaze darted around like she didn't want to make eye contact. “I—I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said. “You owe me.”

What the heck? I thought I'd throw a little guilt on her. If she hadn't shown up, I probably wouldn't have been
headed for another showdown. Maybe if she felt responsible, I might be able to get help from her later. If there
was
a later for me, that is.

“This is so exciting!” LaBerge squealed. The guy really was annoying.

As I walked, I tried to subtly stretch my muscles. I had no idea what to expect inside that arena, but I needed to be ready. I stepped through the portal into what looked like a big gym. It was at least a couple of times larger than the double-gym back at Davis Gregory High, so that made it about the size of four basketball courts. The black floor felt like firm rubber that sprang back a little when pressed. Looking up, I saw that the ceiling soared up many stories. There looked to be a jumble of apparatus up there that would probably be lowered when needed, just like in a gym. High up on one wall I saw a big black screen that was very much like the screens on top of the buildings out in the city. But this screen didn't show any images or geometric patterns. Instead there was a slew of brightly colored numbers in vertical columns. I had no idea what any of it meant, other than the two words that were above the columns of numbers:
CHALLENGER RED.

“What's all that?” I asked Veego.

“That shows us how the wagering is running for the match,” she answered. “With some contests, challengers compete against each other and wagers can be placed on either. With Tock, wagers are placed on a single challenger to either win or lose.”

“You mean all the people out there are going to bet on me?” I asked, stunned.

“No,” she said.

That was a relief.

“Most will be wagering
against
you.”

Oh. Great.

The three other challengers stood inside a large circle marked on the floor; it looked to be about twenty yards in diameter. The challengers were spaced evenly apart from one another and about five yards inside the edge of the circle. Each stood in a square outline on the floor, holding one of those long metal weapons. Halfway between each challenger was a pedestal that rose about five feet in the air. On each was a purple and yellow flag. These pedestals and the challengers formed a circle within a circle.

“So how does this game work?” I asked Veego.

“Very simple!” LaBerge answered. He bounded into the circle of challengers. In the very center of the ring was another circle on the floor. This one was about three feet in diameter. LaBerge jumped inside this tiny circle and said, “You begin here, in the dead center. When the counter starts—” He looked up to the wall opposite the betting scoreboard, where I saw another, smaller screen. On cue, the number “120” appeared. “You'll have a hundred and twenty clicks to gather each of the flags and return them here to the center. Couldn't be simpler!” To demonstrate, he ran to one of the pedestals, grabbed a flag, and ran back to the center circle.

He was right. It couldn't be simpler. But I didn't think for a second that it was going to be that easy. The three challengers with the weapons pretty much confirmed that. I didn't think they were there as cheerleaders. Blue, White, and Black. There was nothing unique about them, though they did look to be in pretty good shape. They all seemed to be roughly my age, maybe a little older. There was nothing about them that screamed out: “Highly trained, awesome competitor.” That was good. Maybe this would be a level playing field after all. Or playing court. Or gym. Or whatever the heck it was.

The one thing that stood out about them was their attitude. The three of them stood straight, like soldiers, looking straight ahead, showing no emotion. These guys definitely had their game faces on.

“What about them?” I asked.

LaBerge lifted his hand into the air and said, “The challengers are what make Tock interesting.”

Yeah, I figured that.

While LaBerge stood with his hand in the air, I saw something being lowered from the ceiling. There were three large silver balls on the ends of ropes. Each was about the size of a beach ball and they were tied together. The cluster descended toward LaBerge, who reached up and untied them. Instantly the balls swung free. The ropes they dangled from seemed positioned roughly above the outline of the circle, so the balls swung outward. All three swung right toward a challenger. They each put their metal weapons down on the ground and grabbed the ball that came their way.

“They will try to stop you, of course,” LaBerge explained. “They will swing the Tock rocks to try and knock you off balance. I should warn you, they're heavy. Getting hit . . . hurts.”

Big surprise.

“Of course, the other challengers aren't allowed to step outside their squares,” LaBerge said. “That wouldn't be fair.

“Wouldn't want to be unfair,” I said sarcastically.

As I looked at the setup, I had a feeling of déjà vu. This game looked somehow familiar, but I couldn't remember why. There was no way I had seen anything like this on Second Earth, but still, I felt as if I'd seen it before. I didn't spend much time wondering about it. I had other things to sweat about. Getting hit with a swinging ball didn't seem like that big of a deal though. Even if I got knocked down a
few times, the worst that would happen is I'd be black and blue. It would be like playing dodgeball at home, only the balls would be a little harder and I had to be better at dodging. How bad could it be?

LaBerge explained exactly how bad it could be.

“Oh, one other teensy little thing,” he said. “It would be in your best interest to gather the flags quickly. For after sixty clicks . . . ” He made a gesture to nobody in particular. All three challengers let go of the silver balls and let them swing free. Good thing because a moment later I heard a sharp sound, like a knife being sharpened. Or three knives. My stomach dropped when I saw that the silver balls had changed. A ring appeared around each one that made it look like the planet Saturn. The ring stood out from its orb by about six inches all the way around. “Razor sharp,” LaBerge explained. I then heard a steady
hummm
sound. The circular blades began to spin. The Tock rocks had transformed into buzz saws. “Quite effective for cutting off limbs . . . and other body parts.”

Gulp.

LaBerge continued, “Once the blades appear, the challengers use those metal rods to control the Tock rocks. Wouldn't want them to lose an arm. This game isn't about them; it's about you.”

“You're a sick guy, you know that?” I said to LaBerge.

He chuckled. “The blades make for an interesting contest.”

Interesting contest? I could think of a few other words to describe it. LaBerge made another gesture. The blades stopped spinning and retracted into the silver balls. The three challengers each retrieved one and they went back to their positions. I wondered who was controlling all this apparatus. Probably some behind-the-scenes dados.

“So what happens if I duck these things for the full time and don't get all the flags?” I asked.

Veego walked up next to me and said, “You'll start over, only the second time around, the blades will be out from the start. You'll keep playing until you get all the flags . . . or bleed to death.”

I hated Quillan.

Glancing back, I saw Nevva Winter standing in the entrance to this gym-from-hell. She gave me a slight helpless shrug. It looked as if she genuinely felt sorry for me. Not that it did me a lot of good.

“Let's begin!” Veego announced.

She cleared her throat and strode to the center of the ring. LaBerge quickly returned the flag to its pedestal and joined her. With a wave of her hand, the lights went out. We were in pitch darkness. Music blasted from unseen speakers. It was the same kind of upbeat thumping music I'd heard before they played the Tato match. The show had begun. A moment later multicolored strobe lights swept the arena. The other challengers didn't move. They kept looking straight ahead. Sixty ticks. That's when the blades would come out. I needed to get those flags in sixty clicks of that clock. How long was a click? A second? Two seconds? A half second? Whatever it was, after sixty of them I'd be deli meat.

A spotlight hit Veego and LaBerge.

“Click click click . . . ,” LaBerge sang. “It's time to make your pick. Eyes on the clock, watch for the rock, it's time to play some Tock!”

His rhymes were getting old.

“Good evening to the citizens here in Rune and across all of Quillan,” Veego announced like a circus ringmaster. “Tonight we present you with a unique event. A new challenger has
joined us, and has requested that he be given the chance to compete in the games immediately.”

Liar.

“LaBerge and I are only too happy to accommodate him, and bring the contest to you in this special presentation! We have high hopes for this challenger, though as of yet he is untested. Will he survive the dangers of Tock? Or is he simply another pretender who will fall to the blades?”

Man, she really knew how to sell it. Or sell me.

“Of course, wagering on an unknown is a risk, but if the new challenger succeeds in gathering all the flags, a full wager will provide you with enough nutrition to feed you
and
another citizen of your choice for the unheard-of time span of four quads!”

What? These people were gambling for food? How long was a quad? A day? A week? A year? The time frame didn't matter as much as the payoff. How bad were things on Quillan if people had to gamble for food?

“Of course,” LaBerge added, “you don't have to make a full wager. Perhaps you think the challenger will retrieve only one flag. Or two. Or run out of time and need to try a second time. Or perhaps you feel he will lose an arm! There are so many ways to wager, but you must hurry because the match will soon begin.”

This was just wrong.

“Introducing,” Veego said, “for the first time in the city of Rune, or anywhere else on Quillan, our new competitor. Will he last? Will he fail? Will he move on to become a force to be cheered? Or die here before his career begins?”

Good questions.

“It is my pleasure,” Veego said, raising her voice, “to present to you, the new . . .
Challenger Red
!”

The music pumped hotter as I was hit with a spotlight. I
had all I could do not to shield my eyes from the light. That would have made me look like an idiot. Not that I should have cared. It was an odd feeling. I didn't see the cameras, but I assumed that our images were being transmitted all over Quillan, just like the match that killed the Traveler from Quillan. But here in this lonely gym there were no crowds. There was no cheering. There was music, but that was about it. I wondered if Saint Dane was watching.