He said what he could about life at headquarters, but he knew better than to say much. From the way he described things, he was in a government program for youth. He told Feet about how he lied to his friends, how he beat everyone at VR games, his rivalry with Kobe, and his crush on Jeffie. Feet listened and laughed.
“You should hear yourself. You’re a total cake-eater again.”
Sammy could not help chuckling, too. Being with Feet was like peering into a looking glass, but seeing exactly how much his life had changed. The jarring pieces of his life now fit together into a sharp timeline starting with his comfortable life at home to his time at the Grinder and ending here.
Suddenly Feet became serious. “Brains—listen—the reason they brought me here is because I gotta talk sense into you. Remember the games we played in the old Save-o-Mart or whatever it was?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t forget, Feet.”
“You know why you lost all the games toward the end there—just before we got caught?”
“Yeah,” Sammy answered. “I do. I always knew.”
“Good. Because I figured it out, too. Took me a while, but then I sorta used it against you. It was almost like you wanted to lose.”
“I never wanted to lose. And you didn’t beat me every time.”
“Almost. Toward the end, almost every time. You counted on yourself to do everything. Chuckles and Honk hated being on your team.”
“That wasn’t what I meant by it. I just—”
“You didn’t think they could do everything perfect. Chuckles used to get so pissed at you. He told me you always chewed him out whenever he messed up.”
“I do trust—” he started to protest, but Feet cut him off.
“No, you don’t. Your commandoid guy—” His voice dropped to a hush, and Feet glanced around the room looking for spy cameras. In the Grinder, if they were speaking about an adult, they had to be cautious. “—that white-haired dude told me about how you don’t trust anyone here, either. How you won’t talk about your past like it’s some kind of mark on you. We had to survive. All of us came from bad places. You, too—especially you! You don’t have to be ashamed of that.”
“It’s not the shame that stops me from talking to them.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know,” he answered in an empty voice.
“Yeah, you do. Tell me.”
Sammy’s face grew hot. He did not want all this emotion to happen, but he did not think he could stop it. With everything he had experienced over the last forty-eight hours: the fight, the hours of solitary, the overwhelming information given to him by Byron, and now the ecstasy of seeing his best friend from long ago, it was all he could do not to cry. In a torrent of emotion and words, he poured out his feelings. He spoke of his paralyzing fears of what his friends might think, his mixture of pride and terror at being the best at everything, and the new burden of responsibility Commander Byron had placed on him.
“Why don’t you tell this stuff to . . . what’s his name? Big Bird?” Feet asked.
Sammy chuckled, though his voice was still thick from his outburst. “You mean, Brickert. I don’t know—I should, shouldn’t I?”
“Yeah, you should. But not all at once or he’ll explode.”
Sammy laughed even harder. Commander Byron was even smarter than he’d suspected. He brought the one person I could talk to. “Do you want to grab some food downstairs?” he asked Feet. “I’ll introduce you to some people.”
“I can’t, Brains. I was blindfolded when they brought me into the room. The commandoid said I can’t leave without him. Made me promise.” Then in a fake whisper he added, “I don’t think they want me to see too much around here—like anyone’s face.”
The door opened. Commander Byron appeared in the frame. Sammy understood it was time to bid farewell. It was harder than he thought, and he almost wished for a parting like they’d already had where no goodbyes were uttered. But he was grateful for the chance to see Feet once more before they traveled too far down their respective paths. As Feet turned to walk out the open door, he called out, “Hey Brains! If anyone can save the world, it’s you.”
Sammy nodded. “Thanks.” Byron led Feet out of the room. Sammy watched them go, then went downstairs to his own room. It was late into the night by then, and Brickert was already asleep.
12. Girls
The sensation surrounding the fight in the cafeteria died down faster than Sammy expected. He and Kobe avoided each other now and Jeffie still didn’t talk to Sammy, so things were pretty much back to how they’d been before the fight. At headquarters, routine was like a tiger trap: so easy to fall into. Before he realized it, weeks had gone by, and he hadn’t kept his promise to Feet. It wasn’t that he forgot, he just had a lot on his mind.
The summer threatened to end unseasonably early, and Brickert wanted to visit the NWG Museum of History before the weather turned sour. Sammy agreed to go on a Sunday afternoon, thinking it might be his opportunity to open up to Brickert about his past. However, Capitol Island was known for its fickle weather, and a severe rainstorm forced them to postpone. This didn’t bother Brickert. He was dying to play the new game at headquarters: Star Racers Turbo.
Sammy wasn’t so eager. Most of his problems stemmed from consistently beating people at games. And since Star Racers Turbo was not that much different than Star Racers, he flatly refused each time someone invited him to play. He didn’t mind spending the day in the rec hall playing pool and catching glances of the Turbo matches on the screen, but he frequently caught himself silently critiquing the playing styles of his friends. After watching a handful of matches, he figured out exactly how he could win every game using the new weapons and features.
That night, as he stared at the stark whiteness of the ceiling from his top bunk, Sammy thought about Jeffie. She’d dumped Kobe the moment Byron let him out of solitary. Brickert had told Sammy all about it while Natalia filled in the juicy details. And though Kobe never showed signs of being upset, Jeffie just wasn’t the same.
Does she miss Kobe? The thought made him queasy.
But what irked him the most was that even though the crimes he and Kobe had committed were enormously different, she punished them the same. All Sammy had done was lie to her so she wouldn’t be jealous. Kobe had filmed them making out and used the tape for revenge. How could she think those two transgressions deserved equal punishment?
What has she got against me? The question bit at him like the fleas he’d gotten once from sleeping in an old junkyard while on the run. He needed more information. And the only person he could turn to was Natalia. He approached her at breakfast the next day.
“You should have seen her when she found out what Kobe did, Sammy,” Natalia said, not even touching her bowl of cereal. “And with her own camera.”
They were huddled in a corner of the cafeteria with Brickert, who was keeping a watch out.
“Me and Kawai had to physically stop her from going to solitary and finishing what you started. I mean—wow—you know? She was so scary, it was like—”
Brickert interrupted Natalia’s description with a stream of nonsense words as Jeffie walked by looking distinctly uninterested in what anyone around Sammy could be doing. They all pretended to be doing something other than talking. Brickert tied his shoe slowly so he could see where Jeffie was going. Sammy took a few bites of oatmeal and Natalia stared with wide eyes just like any other time she got excited.
“Hi, Jeffie!” Natalia announced in a voice so perfectly happy, no one would have guessed she’d just been gossiping about her friend.
“Hey, Natalia.” Jeffie’s voice was glum and flat, and she moved on to sit with Brillianté across the room.
Sammy did not bother greeting Jeffie. She hadn’t talked to him in almost two months, and seemed to think of him as a non-entity. “So what am I supposed to do to make her happy?” he pleaded. “I just want to be her friend again.”
Natalia looked at him lik
e a doctor about to tell a patient terrible news. “She only wants one thing: to emasculate you just before pushing you off a building with your wrists locked in magna-cuffs so you can’t blast to save yourself.”
“Wow . . . it ought to be easy then, right?” Brickert asked smugly.
Natalia left, and Brickert tossed several more ideas at Sammy, but each one seemed more and more like what Jeffie wanted to do to him already. He and Brickert discussed it again that night, lying in their bunks long past bedtime until Brickert exclaimed in frustration, “I’ll tell you, I’m as clueless about girls as you are about losing!”
Life continued like this, and Sammy spent a good deal of his free time desperately searching for the key that would unlock the secrets of the female psyche. He found it in the most unusual of places on a Friday night.
After another successful week in the sims, moving up in the rankings and advancing through weapons, Brickert caught Sammy in such a good mood that Sammy finally accepted a challenge to play Star Racers Turbo. His one condition was he would only play in the new team mode. No one seemed to mind, the mere fact that Sammy had agreed drew every Beta to the rec room like flies to rotting meat. They all wanted a chance to beat him. Just like the very first time Sammy played, Kaden explained how to use the new features. Sammy didn’t bother confessing he’d been watching closely enough to already be an expert.
His team handily won each game, even if he was the only player left. Many of the new dynamics in the game made it even easier. Like a gaming addict, Sammy’s anticipation peaked before each new race. His impatience for the next one to start made him antsy. Then, around the fifth or sixth match, team mode ended and a free-for-all game started. Feeling a little peeved that no one informed him, he almost quit. But he wanted to win again. Winning was fun. Winning made life good. He went into automatic mode, no longer thinking about the controls, only acting and reacting. He won the race with ridiculous ease, and was in such a fine mood, it seemed harmless to play another.
The projector in his cubicle came back on for the next game and showed the other seven ships docked in the star cruiser. Sammy saw a familiar blonde head sit down in the ship next to him and take the controls. He stared as she maneuvered herself into position and prepared for the countdown, flicking strands of hair out of her face. The need to win left him, replaced with an even greater desire. Come on, Jeffie. Just look at me. I’m right here. Just look over here.
But he knew Jeffie wouldn’t look at him. She would continue to pretend he wasn’t there. If he beat her, she’d get up and be pissed, though never showing it.
He knew what to do. He saw the solution. It wasn’t seeing like when he won so many games. It was different, but he knew he was right. His gut told him so. The countdown began. It has to work. It has to. Three seconds now before blast off. The countdown reached zero.
He launched into space and targeted the fighters on the side farthest from Jeffie. He knew her style. She would avoid a fight with him as long as she could. After clearing out all three ships on his side, he came for Jeffie and the other two fighters remaining. The two ships teamed up against Jeffie and Sammy, until one turned on the other and dispatched it. Jeffie got the next kill shot, leaving her and him alone. As if thinking the same thing, both ships turned and raced toward the star cruiser that marked the finish, taking only an occasional pot shot at the other ship.
Make it look real, he reminded himself. It has to look real.
From Jeffie’s cubicle, he heard her voice muttering, “Come on. You can do it. Come on.”
Only a quarter of the race remained. Sammy knew he had the better angle, which gave him a greater chance of winning, but he and Jeffie were nose to nose, and the ships bumped and pushed for position. If he were to surrender his slight advantage and end up losing, it might look suspect. Fortunately, Samuel Harris Berhane, Jr. had never been known for letting races play out. No one survived if he could help it.
He pulled away from Jeffie, giving up his small advantage. He called up his weapon selections. Jeffie shielded her flank and pushed on, playing it very safe. Sammy shot a space mine just ahead of her ship. It was too close for her to safely blow it up with her lasers. She easily dodged it, but it cost her the better position he had just given up, forcing her to fight dirty with him . . . which was exactly what he wanted.
For the rest of the race, they engaged in a fierce battle with Sammy owning the upper hand. In a desperate move, Jeffie made a sharp turn, sharper than would have been possible in the older version. Her nose aimed straight for his ship. He seized the chance to roll his ship over, allowing his turret to have a better shot at her underside. This counter-move exposed his own turret, which was more costly to shield. Setting the stage for his ruse, he dropped his shields, rerouted power to the weapons, and focused all his fire power on Jeffie. Predictably, she put a mine of her own in front of Sammy, one he could have easily avoided, but instead ran fully into it with the front of his ship unprotected.
BOOM!
An explosion ripped through the cubicle; fire on every side consumed all the oxygen in the ship. Yet the noise of the explosion was nothing compared to the screaming coming from the cubicle next to him.
“I WON!” she shrieked as she ran down to the main rec hall. The sound of every Beta clapping and cheering her name met her. Kawai and Natalia tried to raise her up on their shoulders, but collapsed in a heap. Sammy stayed in the cubicle wondering if he should appear happy or miserable or angry over his first loss. He chose happy. It seemed the best way to go. So with a big grin, he joined Jeffie in the tumultuous common area.
“Tough loss, Sammy!” Kaden shouted to him over the roar.
“I knew it had to happen someday.” He shrugged it off as the next hand grabbed his shoulder.
“Never thought I’d see you lose,” Al told him. “Way to take it like a man.”
Perhaps it was her elation, but in the midst of Jeffie’s excitement, she forgot to mention anything—not even to gloat—to Sammy. In fact, she made no effort or gesture to him at all. Before Sammy had any chance to try to break the ice, a band of girls surrounded Jeffie, all chattering or shrieking energetically, and carried her off like a flock of seagulls. As Sammy watched her leave, more comments came his way. It seemed no one realized the truth.
And for now, that was enough to make him smile.
He stayed a little longer to watch Brickert’s last games. After those ended, they left the rec hall for the dormitory. Standing in the hall, Jeffie’s voice carried from the cafeteria. He peeked inside and saw the girls gorging themselves on pizza and ice cream.
Brickert went in and offered his congratulations, but Sammy didn’t dare. What if he gave something away? The decision was difficult. He wanted very badly to talk to Jeffie, but knew it wasn’t time. Brickert brought back some pizza to share. They sat in their dormitory and ate in silence until Brickert suddenly started laughing.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Brickert said apologetically, then filled his mouth with more food. About ten seconds passed, and he let out another loud giggle.
“What?”
Brickert had to cover his mouth as he laughed again. After swallowing he said, “She doesn’t have a clue. Are you ever going to tell her?”
Sammy knew what Brickert meant. And he knew by now better than to play stupid with his best friend. “How did you know?”
“Please!” Brickert snorted and choked on his next bite. “No one’s studied your moves more than me. I would never believe you lost that game from someone outplaying you. Not in a million years, I’ll tell you. You’re too good.”
“I may tell her . . . someday. When she doesn’t get so worked up about that kind of stuff.”
Brickert offered Sammy another slice, but Sammy declined, rubbed his stomach, and lay on the floor. “How long do you think that will take?” Bricker asked.
“Mm. Don’t know. Ten—maybe twelve years.”
They shared a laughed.
“And
until then?” Brickert asked. “I mean, she didn’t even talk to you after the game.”
“Keep giving her the only wins over me—” he said. The plan was all thought out. He would be cautious and calculating, never giving himself away. “—every now and then, of course.”
“Oh, yeah . . . of course,” Brickert said with a sly grin. He seemed to be catching on to Sammy’s game. “And you’re sure it’ll work in the end?”
“The way I see it, every time I lose that game, I win,” Sammy said. He snatched up the slice and took a big bite. “S’dangoodeetzza,” he said with his mouth full.
“Yeah, but win what?”
“Her heart.”
“Ladies and gentleman!” Brickert announced, laughing and gesturing dramatically to Sammy. “Casanova!”
The next day was Saturday. Sammy sent a text to Natalia and Kawai, asking them to meet him and Brickert in the cafeteria. Only Kawai came. When she arrived, she had one of those mysteriously knowing smiles she sometimes wore. “Let me guess, you’re wondering what Jeffie said about you last night.”
“How did you know?” Sammy asked. “And where’s Natalia?”
Kawai grabbed Brickert’s plate of food and slid it in front of her. Like always, she pulled her bracelets up her arms so they didn’t get in her food. “Natalia doesn’t feel like she should talk to you right now. She stayed at the party longer, and Jeffie told her a bunch of stuff. But don’t worry, Natalia told me everything Jeffie said.”
“And you’re just going to tell me?”
Kawai was still grinning when she said, “Why not? This business between you two needs to end.”
“So is Jeffie cool now that she beat me?”
Kawai covered her mouth with a napkin as she swallowed her food. Her manners were always impeccable. “Er—well—actually—I think it made Jeffie really happy to beat you. I wouldn’t say she likes you any better or worse.”
“See? That’s why girls are insane!” Sammy exclaimed. “Why didn’t Natalia just come tell me this herself? She was there.”
Psion Beta (Psion series #1) Page 17
