The Quillan Games (27 page)

“Hey! How are you!” “Red!” “Good to see you!” “Whooo!”

It was like going to a party at Courtney's house. Guys were clapping me on the back, girls were hugging me, big smiles were all around. I was handed a silver goblet of that green drink that everybody liked so much. It tasted like warm Gatorade, but what the heck? I liked Gatorade. The same band of Fourteen clones was in the corner playing an upbeat tune. A girl pulled me onto the dance floor, and I was instantly in the middle of a mosh of jumping and bumping. At first I was a little thrown. I really hadn't planned on partying, but it was hard to resist. Soon I was dancing for the first time since that Winter Solstice dance back at Stony Brook Junior High. The only difference was that I didn't know any of the tunes. But it didn't matter. It may have been a bizarre situation, but it was fun.

I wasn't the only one given a big welcome either.
Everybody got the same reaction when they showed up. It was like a dam that was holding back all this pent-up emotion had been thrown wide open. In between parties everybody pretended not to know anybody else. But there, we were all best buds. I went with it. Why not? I deserved a little break too. The music was odd, but fun, and I liked to dance. At one point a full-on wet-down fight broke out where everybody threw the green drinks at everybody else. I got soaked and sticky, but didn't care. I had no idea who any of these people were, but in some strange way we were all connected. I tried not to think about how I might be dancing with somebody who I would be asked to fight to the death the next day. It made me understand why they normally avoided one another.

As great as it was, I had to force myself to remember that I wasn't there to have fun. I was on business. I wanted to find out more about these guys and the games of Quillan. I hoped to find out who the mysterious Mr. Pop was, and how he fit into the program. I needed to know everything. I approached a couple of challengers, said hi, and got the same big “Hey! How are you doing!” greeting. I was just as friendly back. But when I tried to get them to talk about themselves, or how they ended up getting captured to be challengers, I always got the same reaction. They gave me a sharp look and said, “Uhuh.” Some didn't even say that much. They just frowned, shook their heads, and moved on. Bottom line? Nobody wanted to talk about anything that was even close to serious.

Once I saw this, the party took on a creepy feeling. I realized that all of the happy greetings and friendly gestures had no basis in anything. Nobody truly knew anybody else there. All they knew was that they were all challengers, faced with the same troubles. I walked around the room and tried to eavesdrop on conversations. I quickly realized that it was all
incredibly shallow. Nobody was saying anything that meant anything. It was an outpouring of positive emotion, but with nothing behind it. That's how they were able to welcome me like some long-lost friend. Nobody really knew anybody, but they all went through the motions as if they did. They were all kidding themselves into believing they were among friends. But they weren't. Just the opposite. They may have all been in the same boat, but it was a boat loaded with potential enemies. In order to have fun, they all had to pretend like they cared. That's why they didn't want to talk. If someone said something real, it would break the illusion.

It made me feel incredibly sad. What looked like a celebration was really a desperate attempt to pretend that all was well. I looked around at a sea of broad smiles and wild, laughing eyes. It could have been a scene from a blowout party on Second Earth. It wasn't. It was a funeral. I wanted to be out of there. I backed away and turned for the door, only to come face-to-face with someone I had almost forgotten about.

Challenger Green had arrived. The guy stood there, holding a green drink, staring at me. He didn't have the same wild party look on. He was more in control than that. He was big, too. Bigger than he looked on that screen during the Tato match. The guy stared at me with a knowing smile. It wasn't a broad, false party smile like everyone else wore either. He was like a hungry cat who had stumbled upon a timid mouse. This was the guy who killed a Traveler. I know, it was part of the games. Still, he had killed a Traveler. I wasn't about to put on a show, smile, and clap him on the back with a jovial, “Hey! How's it going!” All I did was stand there, and stare back at him.

“So you're the next big deal,” he said.

It surprised me, because this guy actually said something that had relevance.

“That's what they tell me,” I said. “It's not like I want to be.”

Challenger Green smirked at that comment and said, “Do any of us want to be?” He gulped back his drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His red hair was combed back from his forehead. His skin was pale and freckled. I saw that his hands were big. I'll bet he could palm a basketball, easy. Everything about him was intimidating. He was the main guy. If anybody could help me understand more about how the games worked, it would be him.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Breaking that record must have been—”

“Shut up,” he snarled.

It came out so fast and so harsh, I think I actually took a step back.

“Don't talk to me,” he spat out. “Unless you want it to hurt when I kill you.”

He pushed past me and strode into the party.

“Nice to meet you, too!” I said cheerily.

Yikes. The guy was intense. I didn't know if that was the way he was with everybody, or if he singled me out because I was the one being groomed to be in the Grand X. Either way, it was getting painfully clear that if Veego and LaBerge had their way, he and I would be going head-to-head in some game. I started to sweat. I was getting closer to my showdown with the champion, but no closer to finding Saint Dane. Something needed to happen, and it was beginning to look like I was the one who was going to have to make sure it did. I made a snap decision. It was time to take action. I decided to go back to my room, grab the blocking diode, and get the hell out of Dodge. But when I stepped out of the door, Fourteen was waiting for me.

“I'm going back to my room,” I said as I walked past him, and strode quickly down the corridor.

Fourteen kept pace with me and said, “I was coming to get you anyway.”

“Why?” I said. “I don't have a curfew, do I?”

“No,” he answered. “But you need to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very important day for you.”

I didn't like the sound of that.

“Why?” I asked. “Do I have a competition?”

“No,” he answered. “Miss Nevva Winter will be here early to bring you into the city.”

My heart leaped. “What for?” I asked, trying to contain my emotion.

“You are going to be presented to the trustees of Blok,” he announced with about as much fanfare and enthusiasm as a robot could muster, which wasn't much. “It is a very big honor. You must be at your best.”

I stopped and looked at Fourteen. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Nevva is bringing me to meet the big bosses?”

“Yes,” Fourteen said. “They must be expecting some very exciting things from you.”

I laughed.

“Why is that funny?” he asked.

I said, “Because they have no idea how right they are.”

The party was over. Or maybe it was just beginning.

(CONTINUED)

I
had a restless night. You know that feeling where you can't get to sleep on Christmas Eve because you're so excited about all the great things that will be waiting for you in the morning?

It wasn't anything like that.

Except for the not being able to sleep part. I was excited, but it wasn't because I couldn't wait to see what amazing things Santa had dropped off for me. I was more worried about finding out what Saint Dane had been cooking up in his diabolical workshop. Everything that had happened since I landed on Quillan kept running through my head. Unfortunately, nothing I thought of got me any closer to figuring out what Saint Dane's plot was. The only hint I had that Saint Dane was even around was the original invitation he'd sent me through the flume from Veego and LaBerge. Though Saint Dane and I were enemies, he had never sent me on a wild-goose chase. Just the opposite. He
wanted
me to follow him. I suppose I should be grateful, but in truth it confused
me. If Saint Dane's goal was to tip each territory toward chaos, why did he always let me know where he was headed next?

The only explanation I could come up with isn't a happy one. I've said this before, but with each new adventure I believe more and more that it's true. For Saint Dane it isn't only about tipping the territories toward chaos and ruling Halla. Yeah, I think that's his ultimate goal, but given all that's happened, I believe there's more to it. I think he wants to control Halla all right, but I think he also wants to beat the Travelers . . . and me. Why else would he always let me know where he's going next? He could easily sneak off to a territory and make it that much harder for me to track him. But he doesn't. It's like he wants to make a game out of it. Why is that? We've stopped him on five territories. Obviously we're up to the challenge. Yes, we've paid a steep price and lost many Travelers, but the bottom line is, we're winning. Still, things are never what they appear to be with Saint Dane. He sets the rules. All we can do is react. So even though we've stopped him five times, he's still calling the shots. It makes me wonder. Are we really winning? Or is everything that's happening just one small piece in some grand scheme of Saint Dane's? I want to be happy about our successes, but I can't help but think that in some way, he's playing us.

I have to believe that question will be answered in time, but it doesn't stop me from wondering. That's why I couldn't sleep. I was excited and scared. Excited that I wouldn't have to sit around anymore, and scared because, well, I guess that's obvious. Whatever was going to happen the next day, I had to believe it would bring me closer to Saint Dane.

I finally couldn't take it anymore and got out of bed just before the sun came up. I showered, put on a clean set of Challenger Red clothes, and found that Fourteen had brought breakfast and put it by my bed while I was getting dressed in
the bathroom. It was nice of him, but it also kind of creeped me out, like he was watching me and knew exactly what I was doing at every minute.

“Tell me about Blok and the trustees,” I asked my robot friend as I ate. “What is Blok? Is it the government? Do the trustees run the city? Or the country? What country is this anyway? Are there more trustees all over Quillan?”

Fourteen put his hand up, signaling for me to stop asking questions.

“We are instructed to see to your comfort,” he answered. “And to not answer questions concerning anything that happens beyond the confines of this compound. I am sorry.”

“Really?” I said, thinking fast. “But if you want me to be more comfortable, then you'll answer my questions.”

Fourteen was in the middle of pouring me a cup of green stuff. He stopped and looked at me. I smiled innocently. For a second I thought my perfect logic had crossed his circuits enough to get him to give me some answers.

“I am a dado, Pendragon,” he said. “Not an idiot.”

I shrugged and said, “Oh, well, I tried.”

Fourteen continued, “There are a few subjects that we are forbidden to discuss. One of them is Blok. If we were to engage the challengers with such talk, we would be taken off line and scrapped.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. I took a chance and added, “Are you allowed to talk about Mr. Pop?”

Fourteen didn't respond. If was like he didn't even hear that question. I didn't press.

“When you are finished eating,” he said, “I will escort you down to the courtyard. From there you will be taken into the city.”

“Any idea what I should expect?” I asked.

I could swear his black eyes softened. I know, he's a
robot. I was probably imagining it. But I felt as if buried somewhere deep in those diodes, there was a heart beating.

“There is no need to worry, Pendragon,” he said. “You are being taken to the trustees as a kind of . . . of . . . ”

He was looking for the right words. I helped him out by saying, “Show and tell?”

“Yes,” he said. “That sounds right. Veego and LaBerge want to show the trustees how valuable they believe you are. It is nothing more than that. You will not be asked to fight again until—”

“Until I come back here.” I finished his sentence.

Fourteen nodded.

“Can you tell me what the Grand X is?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “As you know, there are games played all the time, but once every two quads there is a tournament that pits the best challengers against each other. It is watched by more citizens than any other contest, because it is always the most exciting and closely challenged.”

“Sort of like the Super Bowl of Quillan games,” I suggested.

Fourteen gave me a blank look.

“Sorry,” I said. “You have no idea what that means.”

He continued, “Challenger Green has triumphed at the previous three Grand X's, which has never happened before. Veego and LaBerge have been concerned that they might not find another challenger who has a chance of dethroning him—”

“Because if he always wins, nobody would wager against him,” I said.

“That is correct,” Fourteen said.

“So Veego and LaBerge want Challenger Green to lose?” I asked.

“I do not know,” the robot answered. “But I do know that
it would increase the wagering if there was a chance that Challenger Green might lose.”

“That's where I come in,” I said with finality.

Fourteen nodded and backed away. “I'll wait for you in the corridor,” he said.