I glance over at the officials and note that they’re still searching for the indigo psi-blade.
“Let’s walk,” I say to Michael as I power down. “We haven’t got much time before play resumes.”
Michael powers down and stays close as we make our way through the soft dirt toward Diana.
“Did you get a good look at her?” I ask.
“Who?” Michael replies, with a confused look on his face.
“The earthmover.”
“Oh, yeah, her… I caught a glimpse of her standing beside Artie just on the other side of that hellacious mound of dirt they’re digging in. She’s a tiny thing—hair up in pigtails, with these big pink pom-poms dangling down both sides of her head. Even in a battle suit, she looks like she’s about eight—but I’m sure that’s what they want us to think.” Michael turns to me, looking grim. “But I have to tell you, Captain…you know I don’t enjoy hitting girls. Especially tiny girls who remind me of my sister. But if I do get the chance today, I’m not going to have any trouble smacking that little chickadee upside the head with my quarterstaff.”
I work hard not to grin, but it isn’t easy. Even on a field of battle, Michael can make me crack a smile, just by being Michael. “Duly noted, Corporal,” I say with a nod. “It looks like we’re going to have our work cut out for us.”
“More like dumped on our heads,” says Diana. She’s covered in dirt, well beyond pissed off, and ready to punch someone in the face. “I have never been so filthy in my entire life! I can hardly move in this muck, let alone fight in it!”
“What happened after that psi-blade knocked you into the dirt?” I ask, ignoring her grousing.
“He didn’t knock me into the dirt—I fell,” she growls at me, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“Right,” I reply in an effort to keep Diana focused, “so what happened next?”
“The dirt was unusually deep there, so I bubbled up, crouched down and waited. The next time the idiot surfed by, I ambushed him and pulled him into the dirt with me.” She shrugs and rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t even a challenge after that. The guy almost looked relieved when I took him out.”
“Good to hear,” I say with a nod as a hovercam buzzes around my ear. I turn and address the little plastic machine as it studies me with its one large, unblinking lens. “Do you mind?”
With a whirl and a beep, the hovercam floats away, and I turn my attention back to what remains of my squad.
“They’re bound to change tactics once play resumes.” I look pointedly at Diana. “I want you gunning for Artie as soon as the horn blares.”
“With pleasure,” she says, flashing me a crooked grin.
“Good.” I turn to Michael. “I need you to keep that earthmover busy at all costs. If you can get in for a smackdown, go for it, but it’s all going to depend on what the earthmover decides to throw at us.”
“Or slam us with,” Michael adds.
“Just keep moving.” I point to Diana. “That goes for you, too. Let’s make that earthmover work for her victory.”
A low roar builds from the crowd, and I glance over Diana’s shoulder in time to see the officials pull the indigo psi-blade from the towering mound of dirt. The guy waves weakly to the spectators in the stands as he’s loaded onto a med-sled.
“I guess we know whose side they’re on,” quips Michael with a shake of his head. “Dang, that’s loud.”
Diana scowls. “Let’s just get this over with. I need a shower.”
“Good idea,” I say. “Spread out. And be ready for anything.”
Michael and Diana trudge through the soft soil and take up positions ten meters apart. I decide to stay to the left of the two of them while Michael closes in on the massive mound of dirt.
The moment the med-sled glides into an exit tunnel, the starting horn sounds, and I instantly feel the loose earth take on a life of its own. I have barely finished powering up when—
KACHOOM!
A giant spout of dirt flies sky-high like some sort of ancient sea monster’s tentacle. The shower of dirt that pours on me is full of dangerous rocks and debris. There is no way I can warn Michael and Diana; it’s all about survival now.
KACHOOM! VERR-OOSH!
It’s like running through a minefield, as the earth explodes all around us. To make matters worse, that stupid hovercam has returned. It knocks into my helmet as I zigzag toward the arena’s far wall.
“Get away from me!” I shout at the hovercam, and then the ground explodes beneath my feet—KACHOOM!
I am soaring through the air, head over heels, arms flailing. The black arena wall comes at me way too fast. I have a nanosecond to strengthen the shielding around my head before I crash face-first into the cold, hard steel. Damn, that hurt!
I drop another five meters before I hit the soil-covered arena floor. My ears ringing, my vision swimming, my entire body aching, I work overtime to pull myself together from the crumpled heap I have become.
I have only five seconds to stand up, or I may never see Emily again.
Somehow, I manage to roll onto my hands and knees, mindful that an official is hovering over me, keeping a close eye on his stopwatch. I squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep, cleansing breath, willing the vertigo to cease. The next time I open my eyes, I find that my bearings have returned and that I am able to sit back on my knees. I inhale deeply again, and the pain in my shoulder lessons.
“Resume play, soldier,” the official calls, and he speeds away on his hovering platform.
Despite the fact that I have been cleared to resume the battle, despair fills me. I have absolutely no idea how to prevent my squad from being slaughtered out here. I never expected that I would have to battle an elemental psion during the Psi Games, and I feel helpless in my lack of adequate battle strategies. How does one even go about defeating an opponent that one cannot get close to?
It is then that I notice the cracked and useless hovercam lying on the ground between my knees…and I’m struck with inspiration.
Projectiles have never been allowed in the Psi Games… but then again, neither has an earthmover.
Scooping up the broken orb, I stagger to my feet and take in the battlefield before me.
I must have flown more than ten meters in that blast, because I can see Artie and the earthmover now. They are standing close to the far arena wall, up on a wide mound of dirt, four meters off the ground so that they have a clear view of the action. Artie stands smugly beside the tiny earthmover, so confident in his victory that he hasn’t bothered to extend his shields to protect the unarmored girl from attack.
I stick close to the wall for as long as I can while I make my way toward them. Thankfully, the explosions of earth have caused clouds of dust to drift over the battlefield, and this provides me a bit of cover as I approach.
The earthmover squints in concentration while she focuses on a moving target somewhere in the arena before her.
KACHOOM!
A monstrous explosion of dirt shoots high into the air, and I can only watch helplessly as a purple-tinged figure flies across the battlefield.
Oh, no! It’s Diana!
Anger rolls through me, and I find the strength to push free from the wall. I have to end this now. I cannot allow this slaughter to continue!
The ImperiumTron’s buzzer sounds, but I don’t have to look up to know whose image has been projected midair. In an instant, I have formed my new weapon and loaded the projectile. It’s then that I notice Michael out of the corner of my eye as he bounds across the arena and directly into the earthmover’s line of sight.
The earthmover’s pink pom-poms bounce around her cherubic face as she locks her gaze on Michael.
I want to shout to him in warning, but it is too late—
KACHOOM! VERR-OOSH!
Michael is thrown mercilessly into the air.
My anger carries me forward as I sprint across the soft dirt toward my quarry. Whirling my sling overhead, I let loose a battle cry at the to
p of my lungs. I race through the explosion’s billowing cloud of soil and am rewarded with the earthmover’s startled expression when she turns to me. I release the projectile.
The broken hovercam rockets from my force-field sling like a missile. The girl has absolutely no time to react before it strikes her square in the middle of her forehead.
She drops unconscious to the ground like a sack of wet concrete.
It is then that I realize my mistake. In my anger-driven haste to take down the earthmover, I hadn’t considered one thing.
Artie.
With a primal scream, Artie leaps off of the dirt platform, wildly swinging his mace at my head. I manage to duck the blow, but I’m off-balance and I lose my footing in the soft earth. Collapsing onto one knee, I am unable to power up my shield in time, and Artie’s mace cold-cocks me across the left side of my jaw. My force-field helmet protects my face from the weapon, but not from the power behind the blow.
“Nighty-night, de Montague,” Artie sneers as I am sent reeling from the blow.
Time slows as I fall to the ground. I have lost, and that little insight has sent my mind into overdrive. Artie’s eyes shine with malice, his lips curled into a savage grin as he watches me tumble to my doom. He is a beastly victor, but judging by the crowd’s approving roar, the spectators could care less. It is spectacle they crave…that, and my blood all over the arena floor.
Consciousness fading, my last thought is of Emily. It’s her smile I see—that sad, sweet, heartbreaking smile that tears me to shreds inside.
Because I have failed her.
I have failed us.
Chapter Eight
I awaken on a med-sled hovering a few feet over the exact spot where I fell. A medical tech stares down at me as he examines the side of my face.
“How you feeling, sport?” he asks, with an absurdly cheerful smile across his face.
“I’m fine,” I lie. In truth, the side of my face painfully throbs where Artie whacked me, and it feels like a hot poker has skewered my left shoulder. But none of that matters now. I have failed to win the Psi Games. By this time next year, Emily will have disappeared for good. I have lost my one and only chance to find her.
“How is the rest of my squad doing?” I ask in an effort to focus on my present surroundings.
“They’re fine. They’ve already been sent back to the facility.”
I nod, glad to hear that Michael and Diana didn’t suffer any major injuries during that last explosive encounter with the earthmover. I’ll be joining both of them and Jason soon, no doubt. The Administration wastes no time returning defeated psi-blades back to the facility for a headcount and lockdown.
The crowd cheers wildly, and I glance out into the arena to see what’s going on.
It’s Artie. He’s riding a six-foot column of dirt around the arena like some kind of ancient pagan god. He holds his arms wide as if embracing the crowd, lapping up the adoration with the pomp of Caesar.
I look around for the earthmover and find her sitting on a med-sled not more than five feet away. Her drooping pink pom-poms are damp with what appears to be blood. A white field dressing has been wrapped around her head with a tiny red stain evident where I had beaned her with the hovercam. She looks fragile now, and very childlike. She’s probably close to Michael in age, but her small size makes that difficult to assume.
She’s looking away from me, out at the arena where she guides Artie’s dais around the battlefield, so I’m not able to clearly see her face. But I do see the extreme paleness of her skin and the effort she is putting into her psionic discipline… and I have to admit that I am concerned for her well-being.
I turn back to the med tech. “Is she all right?”
The man glances over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, she’ll be fine. Mild concussion is all.”
Turning my attention back to the arena, I see that Artie is making his way over to us atop his pillar of earth. His gaze locks with mine as he approaches. When he is within earshot, he points his mace at me and flashes me that smug grin of his.
“Told you I’d crush you, Goldilocks,” he shouts down at me from atop his pedestal. “Ha! I bet it sucks to be you right now.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I turn to the med tech, who is retrieving a disruptor band from his pack for my short journey home.
“I’m sure you’ve already heard,” Artie calls down at me. “But they’re planning to close the Alaskan Psi Facility. They’re going to incorporate all of you into a private elite military program!”
I look up at him the moment his words register. Why the hell would they close the facility? It’s the only home I’ve ever known.
Artie’s grin turns sinister as he scowls down at me. “Looks like your golden-boy days are over, Vahn.” His lips twist into a sneer and his glare hardens until I can feel the full measure of his hatred. “I can promise you that I’ll fill Emily in on every last little detail of your downfall.”
I have no idea if what he is telling me is true, but if it is, I’ve lost not only the Psi Games, but my soulmate as well.
“Is it true?” I ask the med tech. “Are they closing us down?”
When the med tech doesn’t answer right away, I have my answer. “Yeah,” the med tech says while fiddling with a disruptor band. “We all got our pink slips about a month ago.” He throws me a quick glance. “Sorry, kid.”
Artie laughs from his dirt perch above us, playing it up once more for his adoring fans. His idiotic braying rakes my nerves raw. All I want to do is return to my bunk at the dorm. I am beyond ready for these games to be over.
“Hey, Sylvia!” Artie calls from above. “Sylvia!”
The earthmover turns to him, looking paler than before. And I notice that the spot of blood on her bandage has grown in size.
“Raise me higher!” Artie shouts at her.
The girl’s eyes widen, and for a moment I think she is going to swoon.
“You hear me?” Artie cries. “Raise me higher!”
“But—but—” the girl stammers, her starburst eyes full of fear.
“That’s an order!” Artie shouts. “Higher, you pygmy bitch!”
The earthmover looks troubled, and I notice that her hands are trembling. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to do this, but it’s nearly impossible for a soldier to disregard a direct order from a superior. I watch helplessly as she squeezes her eyes shut and channels her remaining strength into controlling her psionic ability.
I try to move toward her, but a hovering official descends and blocks my way. “Sit back down, soldier,” the official says, his voice muffled by his helmet’s visor.
“Yes, sir,” I reply as I ease back down. “But I think Sylvia may need help.”
The med tech hands the disruptor band to the official. “I’ll go take a look at her,” he says, and leaps across to the earthmover’s sled.
The crowd roars in delight as Artie takes his second victory lap around the arena, but this time his pillar of dirt has risen over thirty feet. Artie smacks hands with the spectators, all the while braying in triumph.
“Can you stand?” the official asks me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I need you to step onto my platform.” The official holds up the disruptor band, and I understand what he wants me to do. It’s against the rules to transport a psi-talent outside of the facility without a fully activated disruptor band.
“Yes, sir,” I say as I start to rise. It’s then that the pain in my shoulder burns a hole right through me. I hesitate, my breath caught in my throat. And suddenly, I’m not so sure I can get to my feet.
“Medic!” the official calls, and the med tech leaps back across to my side.
“Where does it hurt?” the medic asks, as he takes out his portable med-scanner.
“Left shoulder,” I manage to say through clenched teeth.
The med tech runs the scanner over my shoulder. “You’ve separated your shoulder. Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of nanobots, so it
looks like a visit to the infirmary for you, soldier. In the meantime, I’ll give you something for the pain.”
He searches through his pouch and produces an injectible cartridge. Placing the tube on the front of my shoulder, he presses down firmly. I feel a sting, then hear the hiss of the cartridge discharging the painkiller. The relief is instant, and I can breathe freely once again.
“That’s much better,” I say to the med tech. “I can—”
All of a sudden, I feel a bone-numbing rumble. Judging from the collective gasp of the stadium crowd, they can feel it too. Normally, I would say that this is what it must feel like to encounter a massive earthquake, but I am hovering on a med-sled five feet above the ground.
I take in the horrified expressions of the spectators. Following their gazes, I turn to the arena in time to see the massive pillar of dirt collapse beneath Artie. He is instantly pulled under by the dirt’s momentum and disappears from sight. The earth rolls over him as it loses its form, its sheer mass spreading out across the arena like a great beast lolling to its death.
I should be happy that my rival has been toppled from his pedestal, but I’m not. There have been too many injuries and too many surprises at these Psi Games. I can only hope that Artie was able to somehow save himself from suffocating beneath that massive mound of dirt, but I doubt that he had the time.
“Sylvia.” The earthmover’s name escapes my lips before I have full command of my senses. My eyes dart over to the med tech, but he’s no longer beside me. He’s hovering over the prone earthmover, performing CPR.
“Breathe!” he cries as he continues his efforts, pumping both hands over her sternum, willing her heart to beat of its own accord.
“I’ve called in backup,” the official tells the med tech. “They’ll be here momentarily.”
The medic doesn’t respond; he’s fighting to keep Sylvia alive, but she’s not responding. And then it occurs to me that I can help.
“I’m authorized to use a med-scanner,” I say to the official hovering on his platform between our two med-sleds. “It might have some nanobots left. Perhaps I could—”
“No,” the official says, cutting me off. “You’re needed elsewhere. Now get on my platform. The medic can handle the girl.”
Freaks of Nature (The Psion Chronicles) Page 9
