I crawled back for the pedestal with the flag, knowing that a silver ball would soon come sailing my way. The only question was, from where? This time I didn’t focus on the pedestal, I focused on the Tock balls. Sure enough, I saw a deadly shadow sailing my way. I quickly judged the direction it was coming from and the speed it was traveling. Timing would be everything. Just as the ball was about to hit me, rather than ducking out of the way, I took a quick step back . . . and grabbed the ball. I had to hold on for all I was worth, because the thing was heavy and moving fast. But I would not be denied. The ball pulled me across the floor, dragging my feet. I needed to control it and keep it away from the other challengers. I didn’t try to stop the ball so much as change its trajectory by pushing my feet off the floor.
I looked up at the clock: 74 . . . 73 . . .
I got control of the ball just as another ball came swinging toward me. I ducked and it flew past. I grabbed hold of the large Tock rock and looked for the nearest flag. I didn’t swing the ball at the flag or at the other challengers. I ran with it and launched myself into the air like I was on a tire swing. The ball swung out, lifting me into the air moving directly toward the flag. I reached out and grabbed it as I swung by. Yes! I had one.
The clock was down to 70. Ten clicks to go. The momentum of my swing brought me up past the pedestal. I reached the end of the arc, and my feet hit the metal cage. I bent my knees, glanced back to see where another flag was, and pushed off in the direction of my next target. I straddled the rope and sat on the steel ball. I leaned out, desperate to control the arc and continue on toward the next flag as . . . clang!
Another ball hit my ball from behind, rattling my teeth. It nearly knocked me off, too. I managed to stay on, but I was nowhere near another flag. I had to stop, quickly jump off, aim myself, and sprint forward while holding the rope and the first flag. I dodged one more swinging ball and launched forward, rising back into the air. I had to hold the rope and the flag with one hand and reach out as far as possible, but I grabbed the second flag—67 . . . 66 . . . 65 . . .
The other challengers picked up their metal rods in anticipation of the blades whining to life. I swung past the pedestal and spun around, looking for the last flag. I sat on the ball with my legs dangling down . . . right where the blade would appear in a matter of seconds. I hoped that LaBerge was accurate about when they would come out. If they came out early . . .
When I reached the top of the arc and started back down, I realized that I was not headed in the right direction. No amount of pulling or weight shifting was going to get me there. There wasn’t enough time for me to make another swing either. . . . 63 . . . 62 . . .
I swung down toward the center of the circle, along with the other two Tock rocks. I instinctively realized there was going to be a three-way collision, with me in the middle of it! The only thing I could do was bail. I flipped off the swinging ball seconds before the three collided. I hit the floor and tuck-rolled in what I hoped was the direction of the final flag . . . 60.
An instant before the balls crashed, I heard the piercing sound of the razor blades spinning to life. The three balls collided. The blades smashed into one another first, sending a shower of sparks and torn metal everywhere. I saw one of the challengers duck in fear. All around me bits of twisted metal from the splintered blades whizzed by. But I was not about to stop. I rolled one more time, misjudged where I was, and slammed into something hard. Ouch. But the pain was a small price to pay, for I realized I had smashed into the pedestal that held the third flag. I leaped up, grabbed the final flag, then crawled all the way back toward the center of the circle. The Tock rocks were swinging free. No way the other challengers were going to try to control them, even with the metal rods. They bounced off one another, headed in random directions with pieces of broken blade flying around like mad bees. I kept low, hoping I didn’t get this far only to be stabbed by a random piece of hot metal.
When I reached the center, I slammed all three flags into the circle. A loud horn sounded and the lights of the arena came on. The strobe lights stopped flashing, the music ended. The whizzing sound of the spinning broken blades stopped, and the Tock rocks retracted back into the ceiling. Finally, the steel cage that had trapped me in this little circle of hell sank back into the floor. It was over. I lay there exhausted, the winner. Or maybe I should say, the survivor. My cheek was on the ground, right next to a big chunk of shattered blade that was stuck into the floor. I was beat, though I think it was more about coming down from the adrenaline rush than about being tired from the physical exertion. I couldn’t even feel the bruises. That would come once I calmed down. I got up on my elbow and looked around to see blade splinters everywhere, along with one of the Tock rocks that had been severed from its rope.
The scoreboard flashed with red letters saying: WINNER—CHALLENGER RED! I liked the idea that a few daring people had bet on me and they’d be able to have food for a while. At least that would give some meaning to this whole idiotic event. The other challengers were okay, though Challenger White had a gash on his arm and was bleeding. I assumed that came from a flying chunk of blade. The guy stood up, and for the first time he looked at me. I expected to get the cold, hard stare of an injured enemy who was looking forward to a rematch. That’s not what I got. Instead the guy nodded. It was a slight gesture, but I felt the acknowledgment that we were both in the same tough situation. Looking at the other two as they walked away, I saw them give me the same nod. Up until then I’d thought of them as nameless enemies whose job it was to beat me, which by the rules of that game meant they were supposed to kill me. I didn’t think of them as anything more human that robot dados. What I realized at that moment was that we were all challengers, and all in the same boat. They probably didn’t want to be fighting any more than I did.
The first person who came to me, I was surprised to see, was Nevva Winter. She ran into the circle and knelt down in front of me.
“Are you all right?” she asked, sounding concerned yet relieved.
“Sure,” I said. “You still owe me.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “But I knew you’d win.”
“You did?” I asked. “How’s that?”
Nevva Winter took a quick look to see that LaBerge and Veego weren’t paying attention to us. The two were in some kind of heated discussion about . . . who cares. She reached up to her chest and put her hand between the buttons of her shirt.
“Because I expected nothing less . . . ”
She pulled out a dark beaded necklace that hung around her neck, hidden by the shirt. Dangling from it was a ring.
“From the lead Traveler.”
It was a Traveler ring.
JOURNAL #25
(CONTINUED)
QUILLAN
Things were happening a little too fast. I hadn’t even caught my breath after having nearly been sliced into sushi, when Nevva Winter revealed to me that she had a Traveler ring. Seeing it gave me such a jolt, I think my brain momentarily froze. What was the deal? Had she taken it from Challenger Yellow after he died in the Tato match? I figured she must have, because how else would she have gotten it? Unless maybe it was her own ring, and she was the Traveler’s acolyte. Or could it be that Challenger Yellow was an acolyte, and Nevva Winter was the Traveler from Quillan? Or maybe it was none of the above. Remember what I wrote before about how great I was at handling myself under pressure? Forget it. I was stunned into a semicoma.
Luckily, Nevva Winter was cooler than I was. She looked over her shoulder to see that Veego and LaBerge were headed our way. “Meet me later, in the octagon,” she whispered.
“The what?” I asked in confusion. I must have sounded like an idiot, because at that moment, I was an idiot.
“Congratulations!” LaBerge said. “No other challenger in the history of Tock was able to figure out how to beat the game so quickly. And believe me, dozens have tried. We’ve lost many a challenger to the blades. Bravo!”
He tried to help me to m
y feet, but I yanked my arm away. Veego joined us and stood looking at me with her arms folded, appraising me with that superior little smirk.
“What?” I asked angrily. “Wasn’t I good enough for you?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I am quite impressed. Apparently you have had some training. We don’t often get challengers with that much . . . experience.”
“Gee, wow,” I said sarcastically. “My day is complete.”
Veego kept her eyes on me but spoke to Nevva. “Miss Winter, please inform the trustees that I intend to meet their increased profit demands this quad. And be sure to thank them for bringing such a talented challenger to our attention. Challenger Red is going to become a valuable member of the Blok family.”
Blok. There was that name again.
“Thank you, Veego,” Nevva said politely. “I’m sure the trustees will be very pleased to hear of your enthusiasm.” She held out the stack of pages that she’d brought in earlier and said, “Now, if you would be so kind as to initial these pages I’ll file them with the—”
“Don’t push it,” Veego snapped harshly. “Unless you’d like to try your luck at a game of Tock yourself.”
Nevva stiffened, cleared her throat, and pulled the papers back. “Thank you, no,” she said formally. “I’ll report back to the trustees right away.”
“You do that,” Veego said as if she couldn’t care less.
“Thank you for your time, and for the, uh, demonstration,” Nevva Winter added.
“The pleasure was all ours!” LaBerge chirped.
Nevva Winter looked at me and said, “Congratulations, Challenger Red. I will be following your career with great interest.” She looked directly at me and opened her eyes a touch wider. It was a subtle signal that acknowledged that we would talk later. She pulled the pile of papers in tight and strode quickly for the exit. I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to go with her, no matter where she was going. Any place would have been better than the castle. I was at the mercy of two sadistic psychopaths who got their kicks from making up games where people died. I needed somebody on my side. I needed help.
“Are you done torturing me?” I asked Veego, trying to sound as tired as I felt. “If I’ve got to play another one of your stupid games, you might as well just kill me now.”
“We would do no such thing! Not now!” Veego said cheerily. At least it sounded like she was being cheery. I couldn’t tell with her. “Your value has just increased dramatically. Another few matches like that and you will be ready to compete in the Grand X!”
“What exactly is a Grand X?” I asked. I didn’t care anymore if I didn’t sound like I came from that territory. I was too burned out to care about anything except lying down and getting some rest.
Veego and LaBerge gave each other a surprised look. I guess pretty much everybody knew about the Grand X. Everybody but me, that is.
“You’re tired,” LaBerge said. “Let Fourteen take you to your room.”
“No!” I snapped. “I’m not sleeping in that clown room again.”
“You don’t have to,” Veego said. “As we told you, the challengers are treated like royalty during their stay with us. Now that you’ve proven your value, you will be put in much more suitable accommodations.”
“I like the clown room!” LaBerge said, sounding hurt.
“Then you sleep in it,” I said. I saw that Fourteen was standing at the entrance to the arena. I walked away from Veego and LaBerge without saying another word and went right up to the dado. “Are you sure you’re Fourteen?” I asked. “You wouldn’t really be Thirteen and trying to mess with me, would you?”
Fourteen didn’t crack a smile. Robots didn’t have much of a sense of humor. “C’mon, robo boy,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” I walked past him, out of the gym, and back into the banquet hall.
“Get some rest!” LaBerge called. “Big day tomorrow! It will be the best day ever!”
I ignored him. As I passed the banquet table, I grabbed a few of those tribbun things. Who knew when I would eat again? I crunched them down quickly. Fourteen caught up with me and led me on a twisting route through the castle. I could see through the windows that night had fallen. That was good. I needed sleep in the worst way. We climbed the stairs back to the second story, but didn’t head toward the corridor with the clown room, I’m happy to report.
“Isn’t that where the challengers stay?” I asked.
Fourteen spoke in a monotone voice, though it wasn’t as low and gravelly as the dado cops. Fourteen sounded more human. “Only when they first arrive,” he answered. “As their value increases, they are given more comfortable accommodations.”
I’m calling Fourteen “he.” Can a robot actually be a he? Or a she? He looked like a he, but it was a machine. The question didn’t bother me enough to want to go the next step and ask to check his parts. Machine or not, that wouldn’t have been cool.
“What about Challenger Yellow?” I asked. “Did you know him?”
“I did,” Fourteen answered.
“What was his deal?” I asked, hoping to find some clue as to why both he and I ended up as challengers. I figured the answer might point me toward Saint Dane.
“His deal?” Fourteen asked.
“Yeah, how did he end up here? As a challenger, I mean.”
“I am not involved with the decisions that are made concerning the challengers,” he answered. “I have to believe that he came here the same way all the challengers do.”
“And how’s that?” I asked. “Did he get an invitation?”
“I do not understand that question. An invitation implies there is some choice. None of the challengers are here by choice. I do not believe that anyone would accept an invitation to play the games.”
Except for me of course. But I didn’t feel like explaining that to him.
“None of the challengers are here because they want to be?” I asked. “LaBerge and Veego said it’s a great life. Better than on the outside.”
Fourteen looked at me blankly. Of course, it was probably the only look he had. “I am but a dado,” he answered. “I do not have the same concerns as you. But I do not believe a citizen would choose to be here, no matter how comfortable it may be, knowing the high price for that comfort.”
“I know, it’s dangerous. But some do well, right?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t there champions that hang around for a while and then, I don’t know, retire or something?”
Fourteen stopped walking. I think that was his way of showing confusion, dado style. “I regret to inform you of this, Challenger Red,” he said. “Challengers die. They all die. The only question is how long it can be avoided. This is your room.”
He stopped in front of a door that already had the sign CHALLENGER RED on it. I stood there, letting his last comment sink in.
“They all die?” I finally asked. “Every last one?”
Fourteen didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“Good night, Challenger Red,” he said. “I hope you have a restful evening.”
Restful evening? After having a death sentence dropped on you? Nighty night! Sleep tight! Yeah, right.
“Oh, hey, do you know where the octagon is?” I asked.
“Yes. It is a small garden across the courtyard from the front entrance to the castle,” he answered.
Wow, that was easy.
“Thanks,” I said. “Good night.” I started to open the door when—
“Remudi,” Fourteen said.
“Huh?” I said, thinking I didn’t understand him.
“Remudi,” Fourteen repeated. “I believe that was the given name of Challenger Yellow.”
Remudi. The name meant nothing and everything to me.
“He appeared to be a talented combatant,” Fourteen added. “Yet he was oddly gentle. I cannot say that of all the challengers.”
I nodded. I knew what he meant. There were a few other Travelers who fit that description.
“Remudi,” I repeated out l
oud. I had a name for the face.
Fourteen added, “I do not know many of the challengers’ given names. We are instructed to call them by their titles. But he was somehow different. Much like . . . you.”
The robot sensed that there was something different about us. About the Travelers. I was beginning to think that this dado dude actually had some feelings. Was that possible? I mean, aren’t robots dispassionate machines? Like walking toasters? At least that’s the way it worked in sci-fi stories. I couldn’t know for sure, because before coming to Quillan I hadn’t run into any real robots.
“Did you like Remudi?” I asked.
“Like is not something I am familiar with, though I understand it,” he said. “I regret that he died.”
“What happened to his body?” I asked.
“He was cremated,” Fourteen said. “The ashes were scattered. That is always the way it is done.”
I nodded. Another Traveler turned to ashes.
“If you need anything, no matter what, touch the call light inside your door,” Fourteen said. “I am assigned to you and will make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can. Would you like me to bring you food, or drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”
“Very well. Good night, Challenger Red.”
“Pendragon,” I said. “My name is Pendragon.”
“Pendragon,” Fourteen echoed, as if trying it on for size. He nodded and left.
I was about to enter the room, when I stopped and took a look around. The corridor was wide, with large windows that looked out onto a starry sky. Thick ornate carpets ran the length of the hall, with various sculptures and elaborate lamps lining both walls. It was strange. I was being held captive. If I followed in the footsteps of the other challengers, I would die. This place may have looked like a fancy hotel, but it was death row. Yet my door wasn’t locked. I had to believe that if I tried to leave the castle, I’d have a couple of dados on my butt firing their nasty little golden tranquilizer guns, but could I go wherever I wanted inside? As badly as I wanted to lie down and sleep for a week, my job wasn’t to be a good little challenger and rest up so I could put on a good show for the zookeepers. My job was to find Saint Dane. To do that, I first needed to find Nevva Winter.