The Armoured Ghost (3 page)

‘I had to clean the floor afterwards,’ Snow told him. ‘Normally, the medics clean up the worst of it, so there isn’t a lot left to do. They’re very careful when it’s one of the Gladiators who’s hurt. But this time, they left a bandage on the floor. It was the one they used on Mad Jack’s cheek. I was walking past and I saw it fall. It went in under that trolley there beside the bed. They didn’t spot it when they were clearing up.’

‘OK, I know I’m a big fight fan, Snow,’ Rake said to her. ‘But I’m not the weirdo type who
collects
used bandages, if you’re trying to sell it or anything.’

Snow shook her head. She walked over to a set of cupboards under a counter at the end of the room.

‘You know how the instructors search you when you’ve finished work? In case you’ve stolen anything?’

Rake nodded. Cadets who worked in the Arena were searched all the time. The instructors never trusted them. Anything that belonged to a famous Gladiator could be sold for a lot of money out in the city.

‘I was afraid I’d get searched, so I hid it here,’ Snow told him.

She took out a box of bandages and rooted around in the bottom of it. Then she lifted a piece of gauze dressing with a white pad wrapped in it. The pad had a bloodstain on it. Rake smiled. She’d hidden a bandage in a box of bandages. Simple, but clever.

‘It’s fake,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘The blood on the bandage isn’t real,’ she said, holding it out to him.

‘How can you tell?’ He frowned, taking the dressing from her.

‘The smell,’ she told him. ‘It smells really sweet, like the fake blood we use in first-aid class. I’d know it anywhere. It reminds me of that really sugary breakfast cereal we get on Fridays.’

Rake held the bandage up to his nose. She was right – it smelled like the fake blood all the cadets had to work with when they were being taught their first aid. He lowered it and stared at it for a minute.

‘It’s really weird, isn’t it?’ Snow said. ‘Mad Jack’s cut must have been fake. But why would they want to make it look like he was hurt in the fight when he wasn’t?’

Rake thought he knew why, but he didn’t want to say. He wasn’t fond of Stamper, but Mad Jack was one of his favourite fighters. Rake hated to think that either of them might have been cheating in the match on Saturday night.

‘It’s just blood on a bandage, Snow,’ he said to her. ‘It doesn’t mean anything on its own. But, I suppose we could . . . no. Look, just forget it. I’ll keep hold of this, just in case. You could get in a lot of trouble if the instructors thought you
were
nosing around in here. Just forget it, OK?’

Snow looked hurt. She had hoped he’d be more impressed with her discovery.

‘OK,’ she murmured.

‘You were smart to notice it, though,’ Rake told her, trying to make her feel better. ‘You need to be sharp like that to be a Gladiator.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ she said. ‘Whatever. See you later, Rake.’

They headed off in different directions. They had training next, and Rake didn’t want to be late. But as he hurried towards the cadet training block, the discovery of the fake blood was really bothering him. Something dodgy was going on in the Gladiator Games.

Chapter 4

Stick Fighting

THE STICK WAS
padded, but it still hurt as it smacked into the side of Rake’s head.

‘Aargh!’ he yelped.

‘Gotcha!’ his opponent cried, cackling to himself.

A light flashed on the end of the boy’s weapon to show he had scored a point. Rake raised his own stick into guard position and stopped the next blow before it could hit him in the ribs. He knocked the other boy’s stick aside and jabbed him in the stomach. His own stick flashed. The boy grunted and fell to the floor, holding his belly. His name was Hoax, and he was Rake’s best friend.

‘You OK?’ Rake asked.

Even with the sponge padding round the sticks, and the mats on the floor, the cadets picked up plenty of bruises.

‘Sure,’ Hoax replied. ‘This reminds me of that time I was attacked by that tiger in India. It was like these sticks, soft on the outside but hard on the inside. Only with really big claws. I barely escaped with my life.’

Rake rolled his eyes and helped his friend up. Hoax was a hopeless liar. His first reaction to any question or any sign of trouble was to lie. Once you got used to him, you could normally tell when he was actually being honest. Often, it was when he looked awkward and a bit shifty.

With red hair, white freckled skin and pale blue eyes, Hoax could put on an innocent face instantly. But he was loyal to his friends and Rake trusted him . . . most of the time. As sparring partners they were well matched. Hoax was a little younger and smaller, but they were about the same build and skill level. Even so, Rake always had a slight edge.

‘How big was that tiger?’ Rake asked.

‘It was, like,
this
wide,’ Hoax exclaimed,
spreading
his hands as wide apart as they’d go.

Rake hit him across the chest with the sponge-covered stick, knocking him over again. Lifting his own arms, he held the flashing stick over his head, shaking it in a victory dance. All around them in the training hall, the other cadets paused for a moment to watch Rake parade around his fallen opponent. Snow was there too, over in one corner. Rake had noticed her giving him some funny looks.

‘You snea— sneaky clacker!’ Hoax coughed, trying to catch his breath.

‘That’s what you get for lying,’ Rake told him.

‘Go chew a shoe!’ Hoax got to his feet, holding up his hand as Rake came in at him again. ‘Hang on a second. Gotta . . . gotta get my breath back.’

They waited there for a minute, as the smacks and thuds of the stick-fighting training went on around them. The instructor looked over, but she didn’t shout at them. She knew Rake and Hoax were keen enough – they didn’t take breaks unless they really needed them.

‘They’ve moved me to another department,’ Hoax said, as he rested on one knee.

‘What? Where?’ Rake asked.

Like him, Hoax had worked for Domestic Services.

‘The Costume Department,’ Hoax muttered.

‘Where?!’ Rake laughed. ‘The
Costume Department
? Not even the Armour Department? You’re going to be making
costumes
?’

‘Keep your voice down, you rump,’ Hoax hissed. ‘Everybody’ll hear!’

Rake smiled, but did as his friend asked. Whenever the Gladiators weren’t in their armour, they all wore flashy costumes if they were appearing on television, or in front of an Arena audience.

‘At least there’s lots of girls there,’ Rake chuckled. ‘And you’ll get to work with some
fabulous
colours and fabrics!’

‘Get lost,’ Hoax retorted. ‘I’ll probably meet more Gladiators than you’ll ever see mopping floors in the Arena. Mad Jack is in there every other week, looking for his new look. You know they make the costumes for every single Gladiator, right there in that department? Even the ones for warriors that come from other planets. The place is huge!’

Rake was going to point out that this couldn’t
be
true. Gladiators came from all over the galaxy. Why would all the costumes be made in one place on Earth? That reminded Rake of Snow’s discovery – the fake blood. He hadn’t told Hoax yet, but he wanted to. Maybe this evening, when they could go somewhere quieter.

Hoax nodded when he was ready to start again, but as they raised their sticks, Stamper walked into the hall. He was dressed like the cadets in a tunic, loose trousers and a belt with an identity disc in the clasp. But while they wore white, he was dressed in brown, the colour of an assistant instructor.

‘Oh, fantastic,’ Rake sighed.

Stamper went up to the instructor and said something into her ear. She nodded.

‘All right, hold up!’ she shouted and the hall came to an immediate standstill. ‘I have to leave early. The assistant instructor will finish the session.’

With that, she walked out. Stamper clapped his hands and grinned at them.

‘OK, I’m going to show you a new move,’ he said. ‘I’ll be unarmed. Who wants to attack me with a stick?’

A hush settled over the hall. The cadets knew what Stamper was like.

‘I’ll have a go!’ Rake called up.

Some of the other cadets shook their heads. Rake was always first to volunteer – anything to get attention.

‘Ah, Rake,’ Stamper said, smiling. ‘Thought you might.’

Rake quickly moved up opposite the older boy, who held up his hands like a magician to show that they were empty. Rake raised his stick and, in one quick move, swung it down towards Stamper’s head. Stamper stepped to the side, deflected the stick with his arm and slammed his forearm back into Rake’s chest. As he did, he hooked his foot in behind Rake’s ankle, tripping him up. Stamper dropped onto the younger boy as he fell, knocking the wind out of him. He got his victim in a painful armlock. He put it on a lot harder than he needed to.

‘I told you to clean my room yesterday, you worm,’ Stamper whispered in Rake’s ear, so no one else would hear. ‘Mess with me and I’ll mess you up. Got it?’

Grabbing the hair at the back of Rake’s head,
he
lifted the younger boy up onto his feet. Rake hissed, trying not to show the pain.

‘Right, who wants to see that again?’ Stamper asked the cadets.

‘I do!’ Hoax exclaimed.

Chapter 5

Identity Discs

RAKE SAT OUT
on the roof of the cadet training block. Cadets were forbidden to come out here, but he needed some quiet time. And from here, he could see some of the city. Nu-Topia. Since joining the Academy, Rake had only been into the city twice – both times, he had been in a group of cadets taken out for a day tour. With their soaring towers and gentle curves, the shining polished buildings of Nu-Topia looked like another world. Sometimes the Academy felt more like a prison.

It had been a hard session that afternoon, finishing up with half an hour on the running machines. Rake rubbed the back of his neck where Stamper had nearly pulled the hair out
at
the roots. The dinner bell would ring in a few minutes. He’d have to rush his meal if he was going to get out and clean Stamper’s room before the older boy got back.