The Scientist meanwhile scrolls through the different views of the arena, for clues as to who attacked us. He zooms in on Tiamat Irtiu’s team who are presently ranging not too far from our Safe Base. A few of them appear to be carrying gear that could be similar to the sonic weapon that’s attacking us.
Meanwhile the Technician is done rigging something to stop the sonic assault. We open the door just a crack—at which point I feel horrible, intense vibrations strike the surface of my skin in a painful indescribable way that I’ve never felt before—and the Technician aims and discharges his device which casts forth a laser beam. It continues flooding the target until the sonic weapon explodes, sending a shower of sparks and debris all over the walkway. We shut the door quickly and wait for the explosion to settle.
The Technician smiles and then calmly turns off his sound damper.
Normal sound returns in a living burst, and it’s kind of a shock to the system. . . . Amazing to hear everything once again—the stadium noise and the crowds cheering outside as the audience reacts to our destruction of the weapon, the movement, the breathing. . . .
“Good work!” Deneb Gratu says out loud, and a few of the team members chuckle at the deep sound of his voice. Yes, it’s good to hear again.
“So, was it Thalassa’s doing?” Fadut asks. “They seem to be carrying that kind of tech.”
“Or maybe it’s the Drone Master?” I say.
“Drone Master?” Kateb the Inventor glances at me with a curious expression that could be amusement.
“I mean, the drone tech guy,” I say, borrowing Brie’s coined term for the guy. “Whatever his name is, I think of him as the Drone Master.”
Deneb snorts. “Hah, Drone Master! I like it. Whoever did this, whether it’s Thalassa and her crew or the Drone Master, as you say, it’s about time I kill that son of a hoohvak. He’s been far too much trouble, and must be eliminated, especially now that he has the Favorite Kill points high enough to make it worth my while. As for Thalassa—we’ll take care of her on the way.”
Deneb Gratu informs us the team will be split into two groups, the smaller group to stay behind in the Safe Base to guard the Red Grail, and the rest to go hunting with him. But first, everyone eats a hasty eos bread, checks their weapons, and in minutes they are ready. Even I get half a meal bar and a few sips of somebody’s water.
Deneb takes the Red Grail from the spot in the middle of the room where it’s been sitting for all the world (via nano-cameras) to see, and intentionally turns his back on us, wrapping the valuable item with care in a special pouch with a secured digital seal that’s set via a numerical combination lock.
When done, he turns around, scans the room, and then offers the package directly to me. “Hold on to it, My Imperial Lady Gwen, until I come back,” he says, his cold blue eyes cutting into me with a chilling stare. “I trust you with the prize. Don’t disappoint me, and don’t try to open the secure lock because I will know.”
“What? Me?” I say, hesitating. “But I don’t want it!”
Deneb smirks and forces the package into my hands. “That’s exactly why you will keep it and look after it.” And then he points at Kateb the Inventor and Vidam the Artist. “You and you—both of you stay here with her. Watch the door, watch the screens, watch each other. Be alive when I get back. But don’t get too comfortable—everyone’s expendable, it’s just too much of a hassle replacing your team slots.”
Vidam groans and complains about staying behind, and Kateb doesn’t look too pleased either, but they don’t protest for long. The Inventor sits down on the floor with his folded weapon, and the Artist goes to the surveillance screens to take over observation duties.
I hold the wrapped package with the Red Grail and watch Deneb and the rest of the gang leave, including the Technician and the Scientist whose tech expertise and gadgets are needed against the Drone Master’s tech army. They shut the door behind us and set an external additional security lock—which basically locks us in.
So, whatever happens in the next few hours, we’re stuck here.
And so we sit around and wait, watching on the view screens all the arena action happening outside. Since our section of the arena is no longer designated a Hot Zone, we need to watch our immediate surroundings for hostile attackers. The zone change must’ve happened in the middle of the night—we were so distracted by the sonic attack rude wakeup that we only noticed that the beacons outside were no longer red when Deneb and the others left the Safe Base.
“While Deneb’s out there looking for Oshaharat Feveh—the one you call the Drone Master,” Vidam grumbles at some point, “how much would you like to bet he shows up here and tries to get us and that bashtooh Grail?”
“I’m not Fadut, I don’t bet,” Kateb the Inventor replies in a bland voice. “But if he shows up, what can he do but dispatch more drones to watch our door? We’re safe here, we wait him out.”
Suddenly there’s a familiar static crackle and the surveillance screens go out with a pop. The next instant the view returns, but with a golden mask floating against a black background.
“Ah, crap!” Vidam the Artist says, slamming his hand flat against the wall. “We really don’t need this right now!”
As if echoing his sentiment, the stadium audience outside erupts in boos and hisses, as the huge screens are likely once more taken over by the pirate feed of the Rim. But of course we can’t see any of it because we have no surveillance capability.
I sigh and move in closer to watch the Rim broadcast, because, what else is there to do? The sealed package containing the Red Grail is still clutched in my hands, as though on some visceral level I’m afraid to let go of it.
“Nefero eos, Atlantida!” says the disguised voice behind the golden mask. “We are the Rim.”
Vidam mutters some kind of Atlanteo hard obscenity.
Kateb simply shakes his head.
“Stop wasting the moments of your life,” the mask says. “The Games are an atrocity, and only Time is Forever! Use your time here wisely, and don’t let another life be lost on behalf of the Grail!”
This goes on for about a minute, spouting the same peculiar propaganda. Then, just as abruptly, the pirate feed stops mid-sentence, and the screen goes dark.
“Good,” Vidam says, as our normal surveillance views return, and out there the stadium roars in approval. “They cut it off much quicker this time.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, staring at the scrolling views.
“There’s Deneb and the others.” Vidam stops and zooms in on one of the views which shows Deneb Gratu in Athlete Red and four of our remaining team members, two Blues, a Green and a White—the Technician, Scientist, Entertainer, and Fadut the Entrepreneur—moving swiftly along an upper level of scaffolding over a white structure adjacent to a multi-color grouping of others, not too far from our present location.
“What are they doing?” I ask.
Vidam zooms in the view even more and points with his finger at ground level. The Drone Master is directly below, walking calmly in a narrow alley between structures. His drone hive is in formation overhead, and several individual drones buzz around behind and ahead of him, ranging. He never bothers to look up, and may or may not be aware of Deneb’s team following him, but as usual his manner shows that he doesn’t care. . . .
Kateb makes a sound of derision. “Do they expect to jump him from above? Bad move if they do.”
“I think they’re just tracking him,” Vidam says. “Deneb is too smart to breach that drone perimeter.”
As we watch, Deneb’s team pauses, and then splits into two groups. The Technician and the Scientist quickly continue forward, scaling the various scaffolding levels even higher and using parallel walkways to run high overhead, above drone reach, and somewhat off to the side, as they overtake the Drone Master from above, then descend to the ground level below and continue running far ahead of him.
“Ah, I know what they’re doing,” Kateb says. “Deneb must’ve sent them ahead to set traps.
”
“What kind of traps? Nothing seems to work against the Drone Master,” I say. “The drones will destroy any hostile weapon or gadget they plant. Then the drones will follow them relentlessly until they’re dead.”
“Our guys are smart.” Vidam glances at me and raises one finger to tap his temple. “They’ll set the traps, then leave before the drone perimeter is in range. That way the drones are not auto-activated to follow and kill them. They won’t be able to associate the trap with any individual.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Vidam shrugs. “It makes logical sense. Watch and see.”
And so we continue watching as Deneb, Fadut, and the woman Entertainer run on scaffolding in one direction, circling the general location of the Drone Master, while far ahead at ground level the Technician and the Scientist move in a wide circle further away.
Until Kateb notices something else on a smaller view screen, and points to it. The view shows the nearby surrounding area of our Safe Base, and the foundation support structure three levels directly below us, at ground level.
Precisely in that moment the audience starts to chant, “Tha-las-sa! Tha-las-sa!”
Tiamat Irtiu, with her sea-blue hair and an exultant killer smile stands with her team at one end of the clearing, looking up at our Safe Base.
And that’s when the audience picks up another chant. “Kuk-Ku! Kuk-Ku!”
That’s because, on the other end of our clearing, closer to another set of multi-colored structures, the deadly White Bird himself, Hedj Kukkait, the Red Warrior with his team approaches our location.
Can this get any worse?
Both Kateb and Vidam curse soundly, and zoom in on the view screen that shows us our direct neighborhood and the two major Contender teams converging on us.
“Deneb needs to get back here now, or we’re going down!” Vidam exclaims. “No way can we hold off both of these major teams! This is bad, this is really bad!”
“We’re inside a Safe Base,” Kateb says in a cool voice. “Remember? It’s safe for a reason. No one can get in, unless they figure out some amazing workaround or force another crowd at gunpoint to tear it down, the way we did with her Safe Base—” he motions at me. “We keep the door locked, and we—”
“Ah, bashtooh!” Vidam interrupts, this time pointing back to the other view of Deneb’s team, where a small mushroom cloud rises after an explosion. The cloud dissipates and there’s the Drone Master, safe and unaffected, standing with his hands folded, watching from the safety of an overhang, while several of his drones blast away and fry some kind of gadget on the ground . . . or whatever’s left of it.
Meanwhile, Deneb and one half of the team are running in one direction, while on the opposite side the Scientist and the Technician run the other way, closely pursued by a dozen activated drones. Apparently whatever traps they set, the drones were “smart” enough to connect them with our guys, and not be fooled.
“They’re dead!” Vidam exclaims again, slapping the wall angrily.
“Yes, looks like it. They have only moments to live,” Kateb says with a frown.
“They better not be heading back this way!” Vidam growls, pounding at the wall again. “If they bring the activated drones to the Safe Base, then we’re done too!”
“Maybe they should,” Kateb says with a rueful laugh. “We could use some of that drone power against Thalassa and Hedj Kukkait.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling my heartbeat picking up. “At least now we know that traps definitely don’t work against the Drone Master.”
“May he rot in the darkest pit on the bottom of the ocean!” Vidam bewails angrily. “May he be consumed by his own drones and turned into a charred piece of—”
The surveillance screen flickers again and goes out with a crackle.
Oh, damn!
Once again, we lose all views, our only connection with the outside.
Instead, we get the golden mask against a black background.
Outside the stadium roars with fury at the interruption.
Inside, Vidam roars too, while Kateb exhales loudly in disgust and steps back from the screen.
I must admit, even I’m kind of really ticked off right now.
“We are the Rim,” the speaker behind the mask says. “And this time you must listen!”
Chapter 50
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Vidam roars. “Not now, you filthy reeking son of a fish eater!”
And in the next second, the golden mask view flickers again, with more crackle, and it goes out. The audience outside screams in exultation as our normal surveillance views return and the stadium screens are back with Games action.
“Hah! They got you good this time!” Vidam says with gloating. “You don’t get airtime, not even a few seconds!”
I nod in agreement, then put my fingers on the display to zoom in. I bring up two views most relevant to us, the clearing below us directly outside, and the site of the Drone Master’s failed killing attempt.
In one view, Thalassa’s team and Hedj’s team are regrouping around the clearing, after the pirate broadcast interruption, still having their sights set on our Safe Base. In the other view, after zooming wider, I see the Drone Master still leaning against a wall, while not too far away from him a hive of drones buzzes over two burnt bodies on the ground. I can only tell they are Blue by what remains of their uniforms. This is all that’s left of the Scientist and the Technician from Deneb’s team.
I feel a stab of emotion. I hardly knew these guys, and didn’t even know their names. They weren’t all that nice, even though they weren’t all that bad either.
But they were human. . . . My current teammates.
And now, they’re dead.
I take a deep shuddering breath and look away from the horrible picture.
“Where’s Deneb? Where’s that chazuf himself?” Vidam says.
“Hiding from the drones probably. I would be.” Kateb approaches the smart screen once more. “Let’s see if we can find him.” And he starts scrolling through views of the arena.
While Kateb looks for Deneb Gratu, I take in the view below our Safe Base and the two corners of the clearing where the two hostile teams have made themselves at home. Tiamat’s group has formed a ground perimeter around a structure that keeps them out of direct line of fire of Hedj’s team, at the same time giving them an easy line of sniper access to shoot upward in our direction. Meanwhile, diagonally across the clearing from us, Hedj and his group have started to climb the intricate scaffolding on their side, which also gives them fire protection from Tiamat’s team below. Looks like they’re trying to reach the fifth level of their scaffolding, in order to be on the same horizontal level as our Safe Base, but on their own side. Or maybe not—they keep climbing even higher to the next level above ours.
“They’re going to use climbing cords to approach through the air—to swing all the way across and land here,” Vidam says, glancing at me. “That’s why they’re climbing higher than us, so that they have an angle of descent. Watch for the anchor shots, with cables attached, coming soon. As soon as they snag this side of our scaffolding guardrails or walkway, they can slide across the clearing quickly, and bypass having to deal with Thalassa on ground level.”
“Just great,” I say. “What then?”
Vidam shrugs. “Let’s hope they don’t have any tricks to open our door.”
“. . . the excitement is unbelievable, Grail Games worshippers!” the arena commentators babble like crazy, while the stadium responds in roars. “Thalassa and her team have the ground level . . . meanwhile Hedj Kukkait and his team are scaling the structure opposite the Safe Base which contains the Red Grail! Yes, the most valued item of Stage One is currently in the possession of Deneb’s team, specifically the Imperial Bride, Gwen Lark—yes, you’ve heard it right!—who’s now a member of Team Gratu after her impossible and unforgettable performance in bringing down Sarpanit Latao! Meanwhile Deneb Gratu himself is nowhere to
be seen, after his team’s unsuccessful assassination attempt of Oshaharat Feveh, the god of drones! But wait! It appears that Oshaharat might be joining the action! Yes, he is on the move—”
I stop paying attention to the commentator chatter and stare in concern at the view of the Drone Master. He’s indeed on the move, turning around and starting to walk in our direction.
Oh, crap. . . .
“Zoom in on that chazuf’s face for a moment,” Vidam says, as Kateb manipulates the surveillance screen. “Is he saying something?”
So far, the Drone Master has been silent, and I don’t even believe I’ve ever heard his voice. As we zoom in on him, he looks up, turning his impassive lean face in different directions, as though looking at the audience. And for the first time a smirk appears on his face. And then he speaks to the stadium—we can’t hear, obviously, but his lips are moving.
Vidam cusses under his breath, then translates. “It looks like he’s saying ‘Red Grail’ and ‘I’m coming for you.’”
Kateb shakes his head in weary resignation. “Meal bar, anyone?” he says, taking out a food pack and offering me a piece of protein and a flask of water. “Might as well enjoy the siege, and possibly our last meal.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the small share of rations. My mouth is dry with stress and dehydration, and I’ve actually stopped feeling hunger. But the water definitely helps, so I gulp a few times thirstily, then try to chew.
With a sense of impending doom, we wait, observing the different screens as the various Contender teams continue their actions outside.
Thalassa’s people on ground level are sitting tight, not bothering to fire until they have visible targets—individuals on Hedj Kukkait’s team occasionally come into clear view from beyond the cover of their scaffolding, as they still climb. At which point zing-zing shots are heard across the clearing, followed by long periods of silence.
In minutes, however, even this minor action stops, because Oshaharat Feveh, the Drone Master, arrives.
Win Page 59
