The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  “Mia, sweetie, your brother might be cute but smart he ain’t,” Harvey said, shaking his head dismissively. “Oh dear, oh dear, I think you got it all.” Mia laughed, Matt could see she was eating it up and he shot her a hurt look. “I’m not after the best, Mattie, I’m interested in those that crashed and burned. The chance for a fresh start, all that jazz. And let’s not forget this place also attracts families, casual viewers who never had the chance to take it up before for whatever reason… Hey, smarter people than you made this decision. There obviously was enough of a reason for me to come here. I’m not complaining. A few weeks in the sun… Love it!”

  Matt had nothing to say to that other than, “Don’t call me Mattie,” a response that brought a harsh cackle of laughter from Harvey.

  “Okay sure, whatever you say,” Harvey said. “Might be getting in touch with you the way you fought yesterday.”

  That stung and Matt almost bit down on the retort, only holding it down when he saw Mia shake her head at him, almost pleading.

  “Yeah, I don’t need help,” he said. “And if I did, I wouldn’t ask for it from you.”

  Harvey laughed. “Where you been hiding this kid, Mia, I like him. He’s fiery. Don’t ever lose that, Matthew. It’ll take you far.” He glanced down at the time piece on his wrist and grimaced. “Dearie me, is that the time. Sorry, Mia, I know you were happy to see me but I can’t stay long. Business calls.” He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek and stood up, straightening his jacket. “We’ll catch up before one of us leaves, count on it, right?”

  “Definitely,” Mia said. “I look forward to it.”

  “Tata Mattie,” Harvey said before flouncing out with the same vigour he’d arrived with. Matt grimaced, traced his path out of the room with his eyes and down the corridor. Just out the corner of his eye, Matt saw him stop, a Vazaran in a dark suit waiting for him. For several moments they stood locked in conversation before leaving. Fighting the feeling that he’d seen the Vazaran someplace before, Matt shook it off and glanced back to Mia.

  “So,” he said. “Really?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, that’s Harvey.”

  “Really?” he repeated.

  “You’re just upset because he thought you were cute,” she giggled.

  “I’m not upset.”

  “Oh, you mean you liked it?” She laughed even harder and Matt frowned at her, waiting for it to die down. “Lighten up, I’m kidding you about.”

  “There’s something real skeevy about him,” Matt said. “He makes my teeth itch. How do you know him again?”

  “I thought he said, he thinks he’s my rival,” Mia replied. “Wants to be better than me. Hey,” she added, seeing the bemused look on Matt’s face. “It’s not so unusual. You get it in the fighting aspect of the sport. Remember when you swore you were going to be better one day than that guy who always beat you? What was his name?”

  “Antonio Chavez?” Matt offered. “Tony Chav as everyone called him. He hated that.”

  “Anyway, my point is… Whatever happened to him anyway? My point is, you had a rivalry with him, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.”

  “He totally did acknowledge it,” Matt protested. “When I finally beat him, he smirked at me, marked it off as twenty-five to one in his favour and strolled off whistling. Haven’t seen him for a few years since. Haven’t even heard of him doing anything lately.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Weird, that. Anyway, Harvey’s an okay guy. A little eccentric but takes all sorts to make the world interesting. He’s nearly always a laugh anyway.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Okay, so he can have a bit of a short fuse. Can’t really blame him for that.” Mia shrugged her shoulders. “It’s funny he came here actually.”

  “Yeah?” Matt asked, watching his sister move some of the flowers into the empty vase on her bedside. “Funny ha-ha funny or funny when the gardener finds out what happened to those flowers?”

  “Not that,” Mia said, a little snappily. “When I was out that night… Wandering around in the rain… I’m not stupid,” she added, seeing the look on her brother’s face. “I got a knock on the head, fell, I wasn’t wearing much to start with and I got soaked. One of the symptoms of hypothermia is disorientation apparently.”

  “That’s convenient for you,” Matt shrugged. “What’s your point?”

  “Only that I thought I saw him out in the rain,” she said. “Right before that lovely Wilsin guy found me. I thought I saw him walking towards me. But when David showed up, I looked back and he’d gone. I don’t know why.”

  “Should have asked him,” Matt said, shrugging again. “If you don’t know, I sure as hells don’t.” He glanced at his time piece. “Ah well, I’ll leave you soon. I got to go to my rematch. That Theo dude was furious when we were told what was happening. I honestly thought he was going to hit the ICCC guy.”

  “How’s it working?” Mia asked curiously. “Are you replaying the whole thing?” Matt shook his head.

  “Unfortunately, no. We’re just going to go back to where we were, with the exact same circumstances as when it was abandoned. About the best I can hope for. And at least the weather is back to normal.”

  “Plus, there’s no way you can be that bad again,” Mia said, giving him a playful grin. “Well I hope you understand I won’t be there to give you support.”

  “Hey, I win this one, I’m never letting you in the stadium again,” Matt laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever won when you’ve been watching me live. You’re a jinx, sis.”

  The twenty eighth day of Summerdawn.

  The complaints of Theobald Jameson remained long after the memory of the actual bout in which Matt had fought hard to claim a well-earned draw out of a battling display. Reports had claimed Jameson had kicked a huge dent in one of the lockers in his changing room following the decision. Scott had privately smirked when he’d heard the reports of how Theo had allegedly been fined by the ICCC over the destruction as well as awaiting some sort of punishment for the rant he’d been filmed engaging in at the organisation following the fight. It had already become a hit in the media; he’d seen it played at least once every hour while wandering the resort.

  Still it was time to put all that out of his mind. The first round had ended and the second round of group stage matches had gotten underway, all of it leading up to this. His bout with Santo Bruzack.

  He could hear the commentary coming through the speakers in the tunnel as he walked up the stairs to the battlefield. It all looked like new. Of course, it did, the repairs were still fresh. No wonder he’d been thinking of Matt and Theo’s bout. After all, this was the same stadium.

  “We’re here from the newly reopened stadium four, the water battlefield damaged during that storm we had a few days ago. It’s been repaired, say what you like about the local workmen but when the whip is being cracked, they sure can get things done. “

  “Yeah, I know, the pool has been repaired and it looks better than new. Whatever happens today, we’re surely not about to get another storm in quick succession. Still, that aside, I defy anyone to say the tournament has been a success so far. You can’t blame the organisers for a tropical storm; anyone who does is a fool.”

  He’d stopped listening long since, instead Scott found himself focusing his attention upon Bruzack himself, the figure across the other side of the pool an average sized man in his thirties with thinning hair and a face like an oversized rat. Even his scruffy beard gave the impression of whiskers he nibbled at every few moments with his teeth.

  “Anyway, the second group stage match of group D is about to get underway, Santo Bruzack of Serran, a second-round contender from last time facing off against Scott Taylor of Premesoir. Taylor won his opening bout against Leslie Graham who faces Nicholas Roper later, Roper himself beating Bruzack last time. If Taylor wins this, he will be through to the next round and Bruzack will be eliminated.”

  Okay, Scott heard that and he felt a little quiver of glee in
the pit of his stomach. Into the next round. All he had to do was beat the rat man in front of him and he’d be into the next round and he could relax during the last bout of the round. Come on Scotty, he urged himself. We can do this. We will do this.

  This was always the worst part of a bout for him. He didn’t like the wait to get underway. If it was left up to him, he’d just run out and start fighting. Forget all the bloody trimmings they made you go through in tournaments, the whole bigging up the video referee and the verbal sparring between the commentators. Yeah, he could do without that. It was all he could do to focus on the bout ahead, already working out his opening strategies. He knew what he’d do, how he’d do it and he’d be doing it right now if it wasn’t for the whole slow process.

  By the time the whistle finally went, he was almost pacing up and down the caller area impatiently, trying to avoid the urge to wring his hands together in frustration. Finally!

  He brought out his first choice in spirit to bring down the giant black furred rat that Bruzack had sent out.

  Seasel!

  He could remember the day he’d claimed the water weasel, then a small thin creature maybe two feet long but with a mouthful of teeth that he’d discovered to his immense pain when it had nearly chewed one of his fingers off. Seasel had a rich dark blue fur that shimmered in the sunlight, pointed ears pricking up as the crowd applauded the presence of the two combatants. Of course, Seasel wasn’t quite as small now as he had been back then. Twice the size and twice again the muscle rippled under the fur as he bared those needle-sharp teeth towards the enemy. In the water, the rodent could easily muster up the same sort of velocity as a powerful boat, those three tails whip thin and just as potently sharp.

  “And we have a rodent battle about to kick off here, a Serranian mammoth rat if I’m not mistaken and I rarely am, facing off against a Burykian water weasel. How do you see this playing out?”

  “Well, this could be vicious. Nothing fights better than a rodent with nothing to lose in a tight space. These two are both small, they both look quick and what do their callers have in store to surprise the other? We shall see.”

  There was the signal, Scott mentally cheered as the video referee gave them the sign to get the bout going, the sudden shriek of the whistle momentarily drowning out the crowd.

  Second win, here I come!

  With just as much confidence as he felt, Seasel leaped out and dived beneath the surface of the water without creating so much as a ripple, leaving the giant rat stood on one of the platforms alone.

  Bruzack shrugged. As if he were silently saying ‘And?’ He didn’t look impressed. Scott kept his face calm, kept his eyes locked on the water where Seasel was hidden. He couldn’t see his spirit. Not through the water, the fur was too good camouflage for that. But somewhere, Seasel was watching, waiting and…

  Not for much longer!

  The speed even surprised him as Seasel shot out of the water like a blaster bolt, screaming straight into the giant rat’s side and tackling it roughly to the ground. Scott saw the mouth slide open, fought the urge to punch the air as Seasel bit down hard into the neck, drawing dark blood from the wounds.

  Ha, take that!

  “Armand!” It was the first words he’d heard Bruzack speak and he was surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. “This is not where you fall!”

  Scott shrugged, gestured out at the rat with a fierce thrust of his finger. “Seasel, keep it up.”

  Back into the water went the weasel, the mammoth rat stood squat against the platform, ears flat back against its head. He could see its nose twitching and he wondered what it had planned. Surely it couldn’t smell Seasel beneath the water. Hear him maybe, but smell was all but impossible, surely.

  He wasn’t fool enough to try the same trick twice in a row. If Bruzack had anything about him then he’d expect it, surely. This time Seasel hit the platform underneath Armand, the sudden impact knocking the rat off its feet, sending blood everywhere. Again, Seasel sprang from the water and this time, under Scott’s command, shot a powerful spray of water directly from his mouth. It struck Armand in the side, sent the already tumbling rat bouncing towards the edge. It hit the edge, Scott expected to hear a splash…

  He was disappointed, the rat bounced off the surface and sprang back into the fray, lunging into the startled Seasel who yelped as yellowed teeth bit down into his stomach. With a swipe of one of its front paws, Seasel managed to knock Armand away but the damage had been done. Or had it? Scott looked over, saw the bites were only superficial at best. With an opening like that, he’d expected something a little more potent.

  He gave the mental command and the second shot of water erupted from Seasel’s mouth, just as potent as the first. This time though, Armand sprang aside, the blast hitting the space where the rat had stood seconds earlier. He could have sworn he saw it take some of the surfacing off the platform, such was the power of it. And yet, it hadn’t landed.

  This time, Armand went on the attack, charging towards Seasel with the claws out. He screamed mentally for Seasel to evade yet the command went on sluggish ears, what once had been fluid movement looked laboured and leggy. With the sudden burst of speed from the enemy, Seasel couldn’t escape and the claws dug in deep, adding fresh blood to the platform. Gore stained the water and the audience howled in anticipation. They sensed a killing blow coming and with it, Scott felt a sudden stab of worry as something started to twitch in the deep recesses of his memory.

  Mammoth rats weren’t poisonous, were they?

  He was sure he’d heard that somewhere yet he didn’t know if it were true or not. That might explain for Seasel’s sudden lack of cohesion. Even if they weren’t naturally, it wasn’t impossible for someone to modify them to deliver a deadly dose of venom. Meaning…

  Seasel! You might be hurting but we need to finish this now before it gets ugly. Get in close and hit it with everything you have! Please!

  If he had been a person, Seasel might have sighed. Or flat out refused. Or showed some sign of not wanting to do it. Yet despite everything, he just went ahead and obeyed without question. Armand didn’t know what had hit it as Seasel came flying in with a head butt, spinning around to swipe three, four, five times with both tails with brutal slashing motions before finally the teeth went for the neck again and this time they found more purchase.

  Scott had heard what a throat being torn out sounded like before, it wasn’t a sound he particularly savoured, even in circumstances like this. Still he did breathe a sigh of relief as the torn throat plopped to the floor and Bruzack brought the rat back to a capture crystal. One down. Nearly there.

  Except… Relief turned to dismay as Seasel went down too, the poison overcoming to the point that the legs just couldn’t hold it up any more. He heard the pained rasping breaths as Seasel lay there twitching for a few moments before finally they halted and the video referee beeped again to signal an inability to continue.

  Crap!

  With the withdrawal of Seasel, he made his next choice immediately, looking once more to take advantage of the surroundings by sending in Palawi. Any error that resulted in Bruzack’s next spirit going in the water and it was getting fried. No two ways about it.

  His reaction was one of bemusement when the second spirit came out from Bruzack. Oh, another snake. Big deal, I did one of those before, I’ll do it again. The spirit in question was a lot stubbier than the one Graham had used, a lot shorter and a deep mud colour with a series of long black bone-like spines across its back. Upon opening its mouth, Scott saw that it didn’t have just one set of fangs but rather an array of them, too many to count and all of them looked razor sharp.

  The first thing it did upon flopping onto the platform was slide out into the water and Scott felt like all his birthdays had come at the same time. “Palawi,” he said casually as he could manage. “Please zap it!”

  He even gave Bruzack the wink as Palawi obliged, the sight of the electricity touching the water momentarily lighti
ng up Bruzack’s features as they remained impassive. Scott thought he’d have been more worried by what was going on. Unless…

  Suddenly he got the feeling he might have overreached himself. And that Bruzack knew something that he didn’t…

  Uh oh…

  Chapter Nineteen. The Best Laid Plans.

  “Everything works until you introduce the presence of idiots…”

  Sharon Arventino in one of her more cynical moments.

  The twenty eighth day of Summerdawn.

  The news had come through that morning and she’d not spoken since, instead leaning forward at her desk, her chin rested atop a steeple fashioned of her own fingers. Three hours had passed in silence. Her bodyguard hadn’t flinched, locked into the same position he had been since her cogitation had begun. If he felt any discomfort at it, he wasn’t showing it. There it was on the desk in front of her on a secured data pad. The outlines of the mission on Carcaradis Island, the accounts from Fuller and Rocastle, the failures of the triplets to report in and the disappearance of Doctor Blut.

  Today was not looking to be a good day. Not even close. A viewing screen in the background showed the latest from the tournament she’d worked so hard to arrange, some half breed kid fighting a dog against a rat faced man with an eel. Neither of them looked particularly appealing, she couldn’t care less right at this moment. It was beyond her.

  And then there’d been the other message. The one that had come through the previous night from one of her most precious of assets. Her bad mood had been confirmed and compounded, with just seven words of the most secure transmission.

  Triplets KIA. Blut presumed dead. Operation compromised.

  Blut would be hard to replace, despite his shortcomings as a human being, his knowledge had been almost unparalleled on his subjects Theology. Divinity. History. He’d been a useful man for her to have around, he’d have been assured a place in her Future. Somehow with this setback, the said Future looked less secure.