Derecho

2. Murderball

2

MURDERBALL

When Saturday came around, Gideon was relieved to escape the watchful eyes of Jakub and get on with the real reason for the visit — a trip to the murderball game. He knew from StatEd that there had been a great deal of sports in the old world. People had even travelled between countries to play games against one another, a concept so bizarre as to seem ridiculous. Only one game had prospered in New Britain, and that was murderball.

Nobody actually knew the origins of the sport; such things were of little relevance. There were small, makeshift murderball arenas dotted across the Rainbow, but the game the Cobras would be attending was taking place at the biggest and most prestigious of them all — ‘Murder One’, a huge arena in the middle of the Rainbow, which had originated in the old world.

In times long since lost to history, it had hosted music and sports events, and later it had doubled as a morgue and crematorium. At some point after the burnings had stopped and recreation had faded to little more than a memory, the arena had slipped into use as a de-facto township for the homeless and displaced. Many people claimed it was on the streets of that very township that murderball was first created.

Once Kaoteck had assumed control, and the walls had gone up, the homeless were all banished to the Factories and the township was burnt to the ground. But the legacy of murderball rose from its ashes, and soon Murder One became a hub of entertainment once again, as the spiritual home of murderball. By 2121, it was where all the biggest, company approved matches were played.

The pod ride to the arena had cost the equivalent of a month’s wages for many of the Rainbow’s denizens, but of course nothing was too good for the Cobras. Kroll had provided each of them with enough travel credits to cover the cost many times over.

Twice on the journey, Gideon noticed the power had dropped out in the neighbourhoods he was travelling through, but it didn’t detract from the excitement of seeing so many new sights. After the novelty of staring out the tinted windows had worn off, he spent the remainder of the journey messaging Avery, and trying to decide what he was going to say to the others when they met.

The plan was a simple one, it had been all they could come up with under the circumstances. They intended to use the noise and bustle of the crowd to overwhelm any sensors or snooping devices Kroll might be using to keep tabs on them. It would be the first chance they’d had to talk freely since returning from their eventful trip to the Frozen North and the company had initiated its brutal crackdown on the population. A crackdown which they were expected to spearhead once their advanced COBRA armour was repaired and ready.

Right on time, Fan and Kristy both arrived in their own complimentary Kpods and the three of them fought their way to their allocated seats in an upmarket ‘safe zone’. As they pushed and shoved their way through the thronging masses, Gideon dared to feel a growing confidence that their plan to hide in plain sight could work. The noise was overwhelming, and the movement of the crowd was chaotic at best, worsening when the power cut out before flaring back to life. With the penalty for misdemeanour in a safe zone being immediate extraction to the Factories, they were able to make the most of the crowd cover without having to worry too much about getting caught up in any unwanted drama.

“This is incredible!” Kristy swiped her Ktab over the reader on the smart seats, which confirmed her booking before duly unfolding themselves. “I never thought I’d be able to see a match here, I’ve always had a thing for murderball if I’m honest.”

Fan shook his head with fake solemnity, “Wow, ‘Captain Rocket Launchers’, I would never have guessed you’d be a fan of a game renowned for excessive violence.”

Gideon ignored them; he was too engrossed in staring out across the huge pitch. Growing up in the home, he had focussed all his energy on raising his CP and getting into the Constabulary. Murderball was something he had only dimly been aware of through Jakub, who would occasionally rant on about the outcomes of some match or another. It was something Miss Burnett had strongly discouraged discussion about under any circumstances. Looking out over the octagonal pitch, he could see why.

The whole point of the game was to accrue points by moving four heavy metal balls through a series of goals. Once a team had managed to pass all four of their balls through all four goals, they were declared the winner, but if all twelve members of the opposing team were incapacitated, it also counted as a win. Rules were thin on the ground in murderball, and the focus tended to fall heavily on the side of wiping out the other team by violence before even touching the ball — hence the name. Theoretically, anyone with sufficiently suicidal tendencies could field a murderball team, but they tended to be manned entirely by naturally aggressive charneys with a point to prove. That, or desperate indents from the Factories hoping to buy their way into the Rainbow with their winnings. Kaoteck didn’t officially endorse the game, but they did issue permits and provide escorts for teams to enter the Rainbow in order to participate.

“So, what’s the plan boss?” Fan muttered under his breath, trying to keep his lips as still as possible and his eyes fixed on the pitch. Gideon had been dreading this moment; he knew as the leader of the Cobras, that the others would be looking to him for answers, but the reality was that he had none. Gwendolyne’s last words to him had been that she would find them, but he couldn’t imagine how that could happen and nor could they wait to find out. In a matter of hours their armour would be ready to go, and the Cobras would be sent out to the Factories to enforce a savage crackdown against people just trying to survive. Which didn’t sit well with any of them, especially since finding out Kroll considered them to be little more than experimental lab rats themselves.

“Well,” said Gideon. “I was thinking we could request a flight test when we get the suits back, and then…you know… fly off.”

Fan and Kristy stared at him as though he had just vomited on their shoes.

“Just… ‘fly off’?” Kristy’s cheeks had already started turning red, “That’s your plan? Just… fly off!”

“Sssshh! Keep your voice down will you!”

“And what happens when they realise we’ve just ‘flown off’ Gideon? I’ll tell you — either they shut down the suits and we fall to our deaths. Or they shoot us down, and we fall to our deaths.”

“Brilliant plan,” said Fan. “We escape for five minutes, then plunge to a horrific death in the toxic waters about a hundred feet from the pyramid. If we’re really lucky there’ll be a passing tube train full of new selectees to wave at us while our skin falls off.”

“Good point,” conceded Gideon. “But if they can remotely shut down the suits, then doesn’t that rule out us using them to escape at all? I mean, if that’s the case, why don’t we just go now?”

The crowd erupted into a barrage of roars and screams, drowning out any reply as the teams emerged onto the pitch below. It was a stark contrast to the silence that fell over the three friends as they contemplated their fate. “We wouldn’t get as far as the wall,” muttered Fan once the barrage had subsided to a roar. “And even if we did, what then? Let’s say we somehow manage to slip out of here right now, safely cross the whole of the Rainbow, make it to the wall, somehow manage to magically cross said wall and end up in the Factories…what then?”

“We could keep going to the North,” suggested Gideon. “Try to make it to the Metro and live out our lives under the ice, we’d be…”

“…Safe in the knowledge that Kroll will hunt us down like rats before slaughtering every man, woman and child in the Metro when he catches us,” Kristy finished for him.

Moments after the deafening blare of a siren had announced the start of the first innings, the arena’s lights and scoreboard shut off, and a new and unfamiliar sound crept over the raucous objections of the audience. A ripple of unease ran through Gideon as a deep droning hum filled the air.

The sound was so intense that it reverberated around the arena and made Gideon’s chest hurt with the pressure. All around the Cobras, heads turned upwards as a long, dark shadow fell across the pitch and the sky turned black. It looked as though the Constabulary’s entire fleet of Dragonflys had arrived. There were so many of them that they covered the entire patch of sky visible through the arena’s retractable roof and blotted out the sun. On some unseen signal, the side doors of each demonic looking craft opened up, revealing an army of Constables in heavy SWAT gear standing behind the automated door cannons.

Fan looked at his friends, his face turning white, “Erm, did either of you guys realise we even had this many Dragonflys? Because I’ve never seen this many before.”

“No!” Gideon shook his head. “And I’m pretty sure we never had this many SWAT troops either.”

“I do not like the look of this!” Kristy was noticeably agitated. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets and Gideon could almost see her trying to wish her trusty shoulder launchers into being, even though their armour was still in pieces back in the QEMlab deep under Kaoteck HQ. “You think they’re here for us? You think they know?”

Gideon scanned his eyes around the increasingly restless crowd, before turning them up to the threatening assembly of attack craft hanging above them. “I don’t think so. Even if we had our suits on, I doubt we’d warrant this amount of firepower. Something else is going on, wait…” The power snapped back on and the ‘match start’ siren sounded five times. A trio of red flares shot up from the lead craft, silencing the crowd as they fell to earth. A familiar voice echoed from the arena sound system.

“Attention citizens of the Rainbow. This is Aloysius Kroll, CEO of Kaoteck and New Britain. As of today, the game of murderball is no longer permitted anywhere in New Britain. Anyone found to be playing or attending a game will be subject to sanction up to and including relocation or termination. These Constables are here to ensure a safe and organised dispersal from this site. Anyone found acting in a manner considered to be in breach of the peace will be subject to immediate relocation.”

“That explains all the Dragonflys,” muttered Fan. “They can scoop up anyone who misbehaves and drop them straight over the wall en masse!”

Gideon nodded, “See, I told you they weren’t here for us.”

Kroll’s amplified voice boomed over the sound system once more, “Cobra team, you will make your way to the pitch for immediate extraction to the pyramid.”

Gideon’s blood ran cold, and a solid lump formed in his throat. He could tell from their faces that the others were feeling the same.

“Not here for us eh! Great job team leader,” mocked Fan with venom in his voice.

“Well, there goes the ‘run-away now’ plan,” muttered Kristy. “Now we have to walk down there in front of the whole Rainbow, our faces will be all over the network in minutes as Kroll’s ‘Cobra Team.’”

Kroll’s voice was still filling the arena with instructions as the Cobras shuffled their way down the stands. Once they had reached the centre of the pitch, the lead craft touched down in front of them and a young crewman hopped out. He made an enthusiastic show of throwing them a smart salute and pointed at the waiting craft, “It’s an honour to meet you Cobra team, your presence is requested back at HQ ASAP. If you hop aboard, we’ll get gone.”

‘This guy is as green as they get,’ thought Gideon, studying the man’s pristine uniform. ‘He doesn’t even look old enough to have made selection day.’

The crewman shot a nervous look around at the unsettled crowd looming above them, “Truth be told, I don’t think you’re gonna want to be around here much longer, it’s only a matter of time before someone makes a bad choice and all hell breaks loose.”

Before any of them could reply, a damaged seat sailed through the air and smashed into the young crewman’s face, knocking him to the sandy floor. Blood sprayed over the Cobras and the crewman started screaming. He clutched at his shattered face and promptly fainted when his fingers found his left eye dangling from its socket, resting against his protruding cheek bone.

A profound silence fell over the arena.

Even the sound of the armada hovering above seemed to fade away. It felt to Gideon as though the crowd was holding its breath, trying to draw out one last second of peace for as long as possible, before what would inevitably follow.

Then the shooting started.

Kristy scooped up the unconscious crewman and ran for the open door of the Dragonfly. The other Cobras didn’t hesitate, and sprinted after her, as debris showered down all around them. Diving aboard the waiting craft, Gideon realised the incessant chattering sound he could hear over the screaming and the throbbing thrum of the motors wasn’t gunshots. It was non-lethal stun rounds. A grim thought occurred to him, ‘This isn’t a slaughter — it’s a harvest.’