The Sky Drifter (17 page)

“Now then,” he began authoritatively, “word has reached my ears that some rumors have been circulating.” Mr. Hist paused dramatically as he continued surveying each of us as if trying to extract some hidden truth. “I don’t know how,” he continued, “and I won’t ask, but there
is
some news I wish to give you.” A faint murmur spread as players whispered excitedly to each other, falling immediately silent on hearing, “Quiet! Now, as far as I know, none of these rumors are true, which means I’m
not
retiring! Quiet! As such, my wish to tell you this news in person remains unchanged.”

Mr. Hist paused again, his sense for the dramatic as sharp as his coaching, only to resume when satisfied he’d built enough curiosity and atmosphere. “In eight solar days, the
Sky Drifter
will be within the borders of the planet Malanor. As I’m sure you know, that planet has a fairly decent Sphere team. A game has already been arranged between us and their team, the Malacs.”

At the news, a burst of excited chatter rose among us as we could no longer contain our exhilaration. Allowing us this elation, Mr. Hist rested his hands on his rotund belly and quietly watched us with a pleased look on his face.

After a while, the coach said in a tone loud enough to cause a sudden quiet to fall among us, “Now, as you know, this will be an official game, and as such, only six from among you can be chosen to represent the ‘Sky Drifters.’”

The entire line seemed to freeze in nervous anticipation of the names Mr. Hist would call out for who would make the official team. There was no single, official team predetermined for every official game we played. Players were chosen on merit shown during practice—the more skill and number of wins you had, the more likely you were to be chosen to be part of the next line-up. There were, however, two players who seemed to constantly be chosen for every team—one of them was me, the other One. The reason for his appearance that day had now become very clear.

“Stand next to me if I call out your name,” stated Mr. Hist. “33.”

At once, a tall Volucris wobbled over to the coach and then stood next to him. The Volucris were tall, thin creatures who had a very fine skeleton, which meant they perpetually wobbled back and forth whenever they were upright. This, however, made them extremely flexible and difficult to hit, as they could completely bend their bodies as far as they wished. On top of that, sharp yellowed spikes protruded from both their sides and along their narrow, rectangular frames.

Next to be called was 64, who’d recently beaten me thanks to One’s distraction. Despite his lucky win, 64 was still a worthy and powerful player and much deserved his place in the official line-up.

Once he’d taken his place on the other side of Mr. Hist, the coach called out, “208.”

Now, 208 was one of the trickiest players on our team. He was a Fumo, and aside from their extremely solid singular eyes, which were roughly the size of my head, their bodies consisted entirely of smoke. You can imagine the challenge of hitting a being who is almost entirely made of smoke with a solid, metal ball. As such, the only real way of getting points was to hit his helmet. If you tried hitting any part of his suit, 208 would effortlessly dodge your attack, and you’d miss. His only real weakness was the helmet. Being made of smoke, 208’s strength was minimal, relying mostly on momentum and gravity to swing the ball to attack his opponents, but the helmet weighed him down, making him slower. He was nonetheless a welcomed part of the line-up.

Next came the Morex, 41, followed by me. This left fifteen other players, including One, standing in line, waiting for the last name to be called. However, a few glances over at One from the remaining players reflected the hopelessness they felt at hearing their own names, naturally expecting to hear his instead.

They were, of course, right. As Mr. Hist called out One’s name, he announced that the ban he’d imposed on One still applied, but it would have expired come the day of the official game so, of course, he’d once again be able to take part. The deflated players whose names hadn’t been called, along with some of the ones who had, stayed behind to continue practicing while the others simply left.

I headed to the stands, at the foot of which Iris and Pi stood, waiting.

“Should’ve guessed that was it,” said Pi flatly. “Mr. Hist would never allow one of his star players not to play in an official game.”

“How could you
possibly
have guessed that was it?” Iris asked sceptically.

Pi merely shrugged, and with a look of disinterest said, “Well, it was more likely than him retiring, anyway.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Iris turned her attention to me, and trying to suppress her obvious excitement, said, “An official game, Seven! Are you excited? And it’s on Malanor! We’ve never
been
to Malanor! Oh, how
exciting
! I wonder what it will be like. Do
you
know? Oh, I bet it’s wonderful there.”

“Like it was on Brattea?” asked Pi, grinning slightly.

Iris’ jovial expression turned instantly to annoyance as she turned to face Pi, and said sharply, “I’ll have you
know
that Brattea is
still
a wonderful place—despite the little incident that happened last time—and I’d go back in an instant.” Now it was Pi who rolled his eyes as Iris faced me again, her expression reverting to one of jovial exhilaration. “Oh, I just can’t
wait
. And it’s only in eight solar days! I bet it’ll feel like forever until the day comes, don’t you think?”

I’d learned long ago that in such moments, it was always best not to try to speak, limiting any contributions to simple nods until Iris’ initial elation had ceased a little.

Soon after, I went to the locker room to get showered and changed and then met back up with Iris and Pi outside the main stadium doors. We went to Shabli’s to celebrate the news of the official game.

SEVEN SOLAR DAYS
passed and life returned to the way it had always been. Iris had spent some time helping Pi and me review for our Quantum Mechanics test Mr. Clarus had assigned, but any time we didn’t understand something right away, she’d slap the backs of our heads or pinch our ears as hard as she could in frustration.

I spent very little time at Shabli’s, as Mr. Hist insisted the official line-up dedicate all its free time practicing for the game against the Malacs. Luckily, there hadn’t been any Advanced Strategy classes during that time. The conflict that would have arisen between Ms. Photuris and Mr. Hist would have been too terrible to imagine. Placing a bet on who would have won such a battle would have been nearly impossible, so evenly matched were they.

That evening, Iris had arranged with Mr. Hist (behind Pi’s and my back) that she and Pi would spend the night at my quarters for my “own good,” so as to avoid any chance of me oversleeping and being late the following morning. In exchange, she and Pi would be allowed to come to Malanor with the team. Of course Ava couldn’t have been happier they were staying over, roping Iris and Pi into playing games with her, both of whom loved it as much as she did. Consequently, the best part of the evening was spent playing a battle tournament game, eating tubs of fizzy fragia and chocolate ice-cream and vegetarian pizza, both provided by Pi and Iris, respectively.

“Time to get up, Seven! Pi!” came Iris’ annoyingly sprightly voice from somewhere above me. I stirred, mumbling something I can’t remember, and turned over, pulling the covers over my head. I heard some rustling on the floor next to me, so I assumed Pi had just done the same.

“Don’t make me tell you again, guys,” warned Iris as she moved busily around the room.

This time neither Pi nor I made a single movement as I hoped in vain that, by doing so, Iris would simply go away and let me sleep.

I thought I heard her say something like “Right,” under her breath before silence resumed in the room again. As I began to drift back off, some faint tinkering came from the kitchen followed by silence again.

A moment later, a blood-curdling scream pierced through my restful slumber and filled the room. My eyes instinctively opened as fear paralyzed me. Before I knew what was happening, a dim shadow stood above me just as a sudden wet, icy entity gripped my head. I sat immediately up and looked around me with panic, my heart beating wildly, and saw Pi sit up next to me doing the same with a similar look of terror on his face.

“There now,” spoke Iris complacently, standing between us holding a bucket. “Up you both get.”

“Have you gone
completely
insane?” I cried, realizing Iris had thrown icy water all over my head.

“I told you not to make me tell you again,” she replied coolly. “Now get up. I promised Mr. Hist to get you to the hangar early.”

With that, Iris calmly turned and headed back into the kitchen as Pi and I gawked silently at each other. His usually fluffy, furry head was now completely drenched and glossy, and comically thin for the rest of his body. The hair from around his forehead was pressed against half his eyes, the dark patches around them looking much darker. He looked like a confused wet dog from my planet. I tried to stop myself laughing as he vigorously shook his head from side to side, sending a cold spray of water all over me.

“Hey, watch it!” I exclaimed, trying to shield myself with my hands.

“That’ll teach you for laughing at me,” he replied, grinning.

“How did you. . ?”

“Ha, he thinks I don’t know him,” interrupted Pi, speaking more to himself before sighing and standing. “Come on, we’d better get up, bro. I’m sure there’s more water where that came from, and she’s not afraid to use it.”

“You know it,” came Iris’ voice as she emerged from the kitchen, looking pleased with herself.

Admitting defeat and feeling awake, I listened to Pi’s advice and got myself up.

“Good morning, Iris. Good morning, Pi. Good morning, Seven.” Ava’s smooth voice sounded around my quarters.

“Good morning, Ava,” replied Iris and Pi, cheerfully.

“Mornin’, Ava,” I mumbled, knowing she’d been watching. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes, I did, Seven. Thank you for asking,” she replied as I grumbled off to the bathroom.

Soon after Pi and I had dried off and were ready, we grabbed drinks and snacks that Iris had generously prepared for us. I carefully stuffed my Sphere uniform—which I’d taken with me the day before—inside my bag and then grabbed my helmet, placing it under my arm. After saying goodbye to Ava, we headed off toward the academy earlier than I ever had before. Iris, Pi, and I excitedly discussed the day ahead.

We reached the academy without having seen a single other person, walked along the long hall, and went down the elevator that led to the hangar. As soon as we stepped off it, Mr. Hist’s voice echoed around the vast area.

“Well done getting Seven here early,” he said, facing Iris as he stood by the Sphere vessel. “I didn’t think it could be done!”

“No problem, Mr. Hist,” replied Iris with confidence as we all walked toward him.

Slapping my back hard enough to make me stumble slightly forward, the coach asked, “So, how are we feeling today? Ready for battle?”

Wincing at the throbbing pain on my back, I replied, “You bet, Coach.”

I heard the elevator doors open again and turned to see 64 and 33 stepping off together.

“Aah, welcome, welcome,” exclaimed Mr. Hist, throwing his arms wide open as he walked toward them. “Come join Seven and 208. Soon we’ll depart.”

“208?” I asked, frowning, “Where?” I turned, quizzically wondering where he was, to be directly met with his big, glaring eye staring straight at me.

Jumping halfway out of my skin, I exclaimed a series of expletives that made every head in the hangar turn toward me. Just
as I finished my extensive apologies to Mr. Hist, One and 41—his Morex goon—stepped off the elevator, and we were ready to go.

The Sphere vessel was exactly like every other, the white and blue colors mirroring the academy’s own. The only external difference was the Sphere emblem—a silver ball with a bright yellow light chain loosely wrapped diagonally across its middle—which was printed on both sides of the vessel. The side ramp lowered and the access door whooshed open.

“Come on. On you get,” instructed Mr. Hist firmly, but with a tone of merriment, and we promptly did as we were told.

I followed Iris and Pi up the ramp and was halfway when from behind me, I heard One’s distinctive voice spit, “Step aside,
Simian. True
talent goes first.” He nearly nudged me off the ramp.

“Hey!” shouted Mr. Hist. “Don’t let me see you do that again, One. I’d hate to have to bench you.”

After the whole team had stepped into the vessel, the coach followed suit and then the door closed behind him.

The inside of the vessel was, again, much like any other, but for a few little details. The head-rest of every seat had the Sphere emblem embedded into it, as did the floor of the area between the cockpit and the seats. One other minor addition, installed at the request of Mr. Hist, was the large display screen inlaid into the right side of the cockpit wall.

“Sit down, sit down,” said Mr. Hist excitedly with a wide grin protruding from under his bushy moustache. “I have a little surprise for you all.” Once I had sat between Iris and Pi, and everyone else had also found their seats, Mr. Hist continued. “Last night in my bed, I was thinking, ‘How can I motivate this excellent team before the game tomorrow?’ And then, it hit me! How better to inspire champions than by watching champions?” exclaimed the coach, pointing his index finger toward the ceiling as he looked around at us. “So,” he continued, taking a little rectangular device from his blue trouser pocket, “as we travel to Malanor, you’ll have the pleasure of watching classic footage of past Sphere championship games. Enjoy.”