by Matt Doyle
“The medical staff informed me that they found it interesting that I did not appear to be suffering too many Surge effects. The point that interested them the most was that Meera Thorne also did not appear to be displaying the expected reactions to the use of the spinal implants.”
“We can probably pass that off as you both being relatively young and healthy, it’s no big deal.”
“With all due respect Miss De La Cruz, I do not believe that you fully appreciate the situation. They also mentioned that their systems appeared to indicate that no power was passing through the cables during our matches. As it is, they have taken the speed of my own movements to be indication enough that the fault is with their systems, and not something to be suspicious of. Once their testing and diagnostics do not reveal any faults in the systems, they will likely take it to have been a temporary glitch today. However, when the same scenario plays out tomorrow with Meera Thorne moving at the expected speed during its match, they may desire to dig deeper. The next logical step would be for them to check her spinal implant.”
“Ah,” I say. “I see what you mean. Ideally we’d need to create a program that replicates the standard spinal implant readings but I doubt I could put it together and test it properly before tomorrow. I could alter the limiters that stop the power flowing in, but that could be risky. If she takes too much power in, she could short out, and I don’t fancy having to explain that to the viewing public, much less our bosses.”
“May I suggest adding a fail-safe that temporarily reduces the power being taken in and causes it to lose the match?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. That way, she should get out of there long before she damagers herself. I’m not sure she’ll last two matches though. I mean, there’s no way she’d beat Fahrn anyway, but we may need to have her feign injury before the third place play-off. I’ll let Hong Chan know once we’re back at the hotel and get the update installed wirelessly after she shuts down. Thinking on it, he should be back there already. Turns out Fahrn recognised Meera.”
Finn nods. “That is perhaps a good thing.”
“Aww,” I say, jumping off the table and heading towards our bags. “You want to see Meera and Fahrn patch it up too, don’t you? The age old tale of redemption, sparking the imagination of even the most stoic of SSFs.”
Finn stands up before answering and follows me to our bags. “While sentimentality is not a foreign concept to me, it remains something that I am incapable of displaying in any real sense. I am simply observing that Hong Chan is likely to become more focused on the task we have set for him if his own goals can be reached prior to us calling him into action.”
“And that Finn is where I continue to fail with you. It’s times like this that remind me how far behind Robert I am.”
“I behave exactly to your specifications Miss De La Cruz, most would take that as a success.”
“Most aren’t aiming higher though Finn.”
“Even so, you are comparing your work to a series of unverified reports. Until you have had the chance to study Carnival, you cannot say with one hundred per cent certainty that you have not already surpassed Robert.”
I laugh. “And suddenly my faith is restored. Thank you Finn, you always know just what to say.” He starts to respond but I wave him into silence and continue, “It’s fine, I like having lofty goals to throw myself at. Life’s more fun if you’re chasing something after all. Besides, I know you’re right really. Until we get a proper look at Carnival, Robert’s work is pretty much hearsay. I guess I’m still just a bit sore that he left it all to his Grandson rather than his pupil, especially given the importance of the project.”
“Familial ties are often placed above all others. It is strange that you would describe yourself as his pupil though. My records indicate that you were of a higher grade than Robert.”
“I was,” I smile.
CONNOR FORD - 18:16
“I don’t give a damn if it’s short notice you bloody oik. If you’re letting Forrester use a Mobile Loader, you can damn well let me do the same. Highly competent senior staff my bloody arse.”
“It’s not that we can’t let you do it sir,” he says uncertainly as his eyes scan the tablet screen in front of him. “It’s just that I’m not sure if we can definitely find another Mobile Spark Form Loader in time. John Forrester brings his own you see, so …”
He trailed off? The pathetic runt can’t even finish his sentence, let alone look me in the eye. Oh, I will not have this.
“Tell me,” I say, reaching across the desk and lifting his security badge. “Stanton is it? Well then, tell me Mr Stanton, is averting your gaze a standard part of Emblem office training now? There’s not one person in this damn building that’s been able to hold my gaze all day. Do you know what we used to call that Stanton? Bloody rude.”
“Sorry Mr Ford,” he says looking up with an expression akin to a deer in the headlights. Fear and apologies: the common currency of the coward. At least Carlston had the balls to look me in the eyes and tell me no before he wavered. This idiot deserves everything he gets.
“Oh, so now you find your words,” I growl. “When I expect a response, you fail to even complete your damn sentence, but when I’m in the middle of raising a perfectly valid complaint about service, you suddenly find enough of a voice to interrupt. I am not happy Stanton, not bloody happy at all.”
He scratches himself nervously, clearly waiting to be sure that I’m finished talking before responding this time. Bastard. Where’s the fun if he learns straight away?
“I … maybe we …” His lips move but instead of words I’m treated to a round of nonsense syllables. Perhaps he’s not a lost cause just yet.
“Out with it man. You’re supposed to be at the top end of the office food chain, but right now you’re sounding about as useless as that Robert Church creature I had to suffer earlier. Can you handle my request or not?”
He taps his tablet screen a few more times and swallows hard. “We may be able to find one for you, but it’ll probably be a slightly older model.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed Stanton, I am a slightly older model. I don’t give a damn how old the thing is. Will it function?”
“Yes. Yes sir, it’ll run everything fine.”
“Now how bloody difficult was that?” I spit. “Well then, now that we’ve sorted that out, let’s see how you do with my second request, shall we?”
“Yes. Certainly sir,” he says, his voice quavering.
“I want you to find me a specific card before my match with Forrester tomorrow.”
“OK,” he nods, relaxing a little. “I’ll just open the inventory and see if we have what you need in stock. What card do you need?”
“I want something from the range that Forrester used to make his Spark Form do whatever the Hell it was it did during his entrance.”
His eyes suddenly grow wide.
“Is there a problem Stanton?”
“It’s just that, um,” he freezes again, but seems to recover enough stamina to continue when he notices my eyebrow raise and my visible anger growing. “He made the card himself. There isn’t another one.”
“Then duplicate it.”
“We can’t. I mean, we don’t have access to the card. And technically speaking, it’s an illegal hack. If we were to copy it, it could potentially cause a drop in public image.”
I slam my hands down hard on the desk and bring my face close to his, cutting his idiocy off before he can anger me enough to make me irrational. “It’s not so bloody illegal that you stop him using it, is it Stanton? I am not some shy retiring wallflower, happy to sit idly back and suffer ridiculous double standards being dealt out by a bunch of jumped up morons in cheap suits. If you won’t copy it, then you can damn well make me one from scratch.”
“M-m-make you one?” he stutters.
“That’s right you little shit, muh, muh, make me one from scratch. I’ve read that ridiculous pamphlet at the main door, the one detailing h
ow wonderfully impressive the staff here are and listing their achievements and qualifications. There are enough bloody programmers on site to get it done, so dealing with my request shouldn’t be an issue, should it?”
“B-But Mr Ford, I’m not sure you fully appreciate the complexity of something like this. I couldn’t possibly guarantee that they’d be able to make one in time, even if they started first thing in the morning.”
Fool. You just gave me my opening.
“If I had the respect I was due Stanton, I wouldn’t still be standing here arguing with you. If commencing work the moment they arrive tomorrow morning isn’t going to give them enough time, then I suggest they start now.”
“Now, sir?”
“Have I suddenly begun speaking a foreign language or are you just as stupid as you look? Yes, now. It’s one bloody word Stanton, and it has a limited number of definitions. I would have thought that they taught you such things in school.”
“But …”
“No buts Stanton. I will not allow myself to be upstaged by another competitor or his Spark Form. I’ve seen Forrester’s matches. They may chant his name, but it’s the bloody Lopine they cheer for. And believe me Stanton, I intend to have Jariah walk out to the Battle Zone and tear the rabbit-eared bitch to shreds. Now, you are going to call your colleagues in programming and tell them that one of two things are going to happen. Either they deal with my request or I go public with my views on the treatment I’ve received here thus far. They have until I arrive tomorrow morning. Tick tock.”
He opens his mouth to respond and I cut him off with a gruff, “Good night,” then turn and walk away. I’m not even half way across the floor when I hear him pick up the phone and say, “Erm, hi guys. How many of you are still there?”
Now that’s more like it. I will not be upstaged Forrester, not on any level. You may think you’re something special, but I’ve seen your kind many, many times before. Tomorrow Forrester. Tomorrow, you learn your place.
FAHRN - 18:20
“So what happens if he can’t help?” Maria asks over the ringing on the laptop speakers.
“Then I guess I have to work on the basis that it’s true. For now at least.”
“You could do that anyway.”
“I know,” I reply, checking that some silent error message hasn’t popped up on the screen. “But I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”
“You could …” she starts, but is cut off by the video feed on the screen.
“Yo, Fahrn! How ya been?” comes a familiar voice, the audio kicking in before the visual.
“Hey Rodriguez,” I reply. “Could always be worst, you know me.”
“Yeah,” he laughs, “You never change man, always lookin’ down rather than where you’re headin’.”
“I never change? Says the guy whose had the same shitty little moustache for the last, what? Twenty years now?”
“Longer than that,” he smiles, “And I’ll have you know, the ladies still love the fuzz.”
“Not the ladies I know.”
“Their loss man. Seems odd for you to be callin’ on a tournament day though. I’m figurin’ this is important, right?”
“Yeah,” I say sullenly. “I’ve got a favour to ask.”
“Sure thing. Always happy to help a former comrade in arms.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think you’re gonna like this one.”
He stares at me through the screen, narrowing his eyes as he runs scenarios through in his head, then says firmly, “This better not be about that girl from the Halo again.” He waits for me to respond, but when I can’t even meet his gaze, he says, “Look, Fahrn, what happened back then … no one’s gonna say it was right, but no one’s gonna say it was yours or anyone else’s fault either, not on this team. It’s a shitty place to be in, but you gotta at least try to move past it. Dwelling on it …”
“She’s here,” I cut in, realising that I’m getting nowhere. “Or someone that says she’s her is anyway. She wants to meet me and talk things through. I just wanted to be sure it’s really her.”
He stares in disbelief for a moment then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Ya know what? Fine. But I’m gonna need more than ‘she’s here’ to do any sorta trace.”
I nod. “She’s competing as Laqueta, The Silent Warrior.”
“The chick in the PVC?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You’ve been watching?”
“Come on Fahrn, I told ya before. I’ll be watching every year you’re there. You got anything else for me to go on?”
“She was adopted. I’m not sure when. The adopter was Hong Chan though.”
“OK, cool, that I can work with,” he says spinning his chair to the right and sending his fingers flying over an old keyboard. “Still man, ‘talk things through?’ After what happened, she’s lucky you don’t punch her square in the face. That’s what the old Fahrn woulda done. Ya know what I think? I think that woman o’ yours has made ya soft man.”
“I love you too Rodriguez,” yells Maria from over by the door.
“What? You got me on speaker? Damn it Fahrn. Hey Maria! You know me man, I’m just kiddin’ with ya.”
“Sure you were,” she says, leaning over my shoulder and flashing a cheeky grin at the screen.
“I’m jus’ saying that since she’s been with you, Fahrn’s been all mellow and shit, that’s all.”
“Mellow?” I ask.
“Mellow by your standards … hey, OK, I got a match.” He clicks his mouse a couple of times, mumbling away to himself as he reads. He never could read in his head. “Says here that Hong Chan really did adopt a little lady. You want a copy of the files? I ain’t got the time to go through all of them, and you’ll probably have a better idea of whether it’s the same girl or not than I do,” he says, turning his head back to me.
“If you could.”
“OK, cool, I’ll e-mail them now. Listen though Fahrn,” he says, his voice taking on a firm, serious edge. “I ain’t doin’ this again. I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens between the two of you when you talk it out or whatever, I ain’t doin’ any more searches on her, you got that?”
“Sure,” I reply. “And thank you. For the search and for watching.”
“See what you’re doing to her Maria? She’s thankin’ me and everything now.”
“What can I say?” Maria replies. “I must have a calming effect on her.”
“Yeah, well, ya can keep your soothing whatever’s away from my other savage beasts, ya hear?”
“No problem,” she says with a wink.
“Right,” he says, cracking his overly thick neck, “I got a team to prep, so you two keep safe, yeah?”
“Will do,” Maria says.
“We will. Thanks again Rodriguez, I owe you one.”
“Yeah, yeah. You just make sure you bring the prize home this year, ya hear?” And with that, the call window clicks off, leaving me to open my e-mails and start skimming the files. Rodriguez acts tough, but he never did like goodbyes. He told me once that he never actually said goodbye to anyone, just in case it tempted fate and it really did turn out to be goodbye. He’s a good man though, and he was a good boss. After my knee went, he paid for my hospital bills and gave me a good severance pay out, including Fenrir. We keep in touch when we can.
Maria leans in and notices the part of the file that I’ve stopped on. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek, then hands me a bottle of water. “Well,” she says. “Now we know.”
JOHN FORRESTER - 18:37
And finally the door to our changing room is less than two corridors away. Getting here took a lot longer than it should have, mostly because almost every member of staff we came across wanted to stop and congratulate us on our victory, and partly because the more the effects of the Surge wore off, the more I started losing track of the time. The problem with that is that it meant that my usual array of handshakes, high fives and bounciness kinda dragged on a bit more than normal. Whoops!
We round the corner to our corridor and Carnival gives her ears a quick flick and marches off ahead into the changing room, leaving the door swinging open as she goes. I guess the coast must be clear. I make a quick dash to the door and pull it shut behind me as I come to a stop just inside the room. Carnival has already positioned herself in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes fixed on me with a peevish glare. “What?” I ask with a smile. “The look suits you.”
The next thirty seconds consist entirely of Carnival unloading a barrage of quick, low growls and huffs while waving her arms about in an exaggerating rage and occasionally grabbing at her top. I can tell from the way that she keeps pulling it aside that she’s not so much annoyed at it being torn as she is about the result of the tear being that she’s spent the majority of the match with her breasts on display. On a Colony wide broadcast. She probably heard the handful of wolf whistles too.
Finally, her anger runs its course and she stops long enough to cock her head to the side and throw her arms out with a short, snort that pretty much screams, ‘Well?’
I pick my top up off the floor with a chuckle and pull it on as I reply, “You know, you could just block the animation. Or mod it so that it doesn’t cut the whole thing. The fans won’t care as long as the actions good and the techies would probably just think it’s a glitch in the software.”
Carnival responds by sticking her nose in the air and turning her head to the side in mock annoyance as she gives a short, sharp, high whine. If her tone and over the top movements weren’t enough to give it away, then the way her tail is gently swaying is proof enough that she’s only playing. To be fair though, her state of partial undress is entirely my own fault. She may not be controlled by them, but she can tell which cards I play and she chooses to just trust me and go with it because that’s the only way she can compete alongside me and keep up the facade that she’s just a normal Spark Form. The downside to that is that she can probably see it coming when I make a bad decision but she has no choice other than to take the hit. That must be pretty scary. I know it is for me anyway.
