Ultraball #2 Read online

  “What happened to Fusion?” a reporter asked Zuna. “Why did you replace him with White Lightning, of all people? And what happened to Chain Reaction?”

  Zuna stared silently at the reporter, his fiery glare burning a hole into the guy’s head.

  Strike squinted, studying the kids who were flanking Zuna. Chain Reaction was not among them. The brash superstar rocketback had been the North Pole Neutrons’ focal point, their entire offense built around his playmaking abilities. The four-time league MVP held most of the Underground Ultraball League records and was the driving force behind the Neutrons’ four straight Ultrabowl titles. White Lightning replacing Fusion at quarterback was surprising, but the Neutrons parting ways with Chain Reaction was astonishing.

  Zuna’s eyes narrowed, his focus on the reporter intensifying. “I’m going to go over this only one more time,” he said. “Fusion and Chain Reaction played great for four years. They helped bring Neutron Nation four Ultrabowl titles. But as owner and general manager of the Neutrons, it’s my responsibility to field the best team possible. Meltdown is my rocketback 1 now. White Lightning is my quarterback. The Saladin Shock made a major mistake in cutting him after last season. I capitalized on it. White Lightning led us to a huge win today.” He pointed to a stoic boy with black hair parted down the middle, his eyes sunken, dark folds of skin drooping under them.

  “But how did you keep the quarterback and rocketback 1 switches secret until just before kickoff?” another reporter asked. “You must have paid a fortune to pull this off.”

  A thin smile appeared on Zuna’s face, the freeze thawing. “Can you get a load of this guy? Asking if Raiden Zuna has a lot of money is like asking . . . it’s like asking if the guy who asked that question is a moron.”

  Nervous laughter rippled through the room. A camera focused on the reporter who’d asked the question, the guy’s face going bright red. He tried to laugh along with his fellow reporters, but his bald head beaded up with flop sweat. “Sorry,” he finally said. “Dumb question.”

  “But Mr. Zuna,” a reporter from the Lunar Times asked, “didn’t you lose a ton of money on last year’s Ultrabowl? You bet heavily against there being a blackout in Neutron Stadium, and there was one. It’s rumored that you lost most of your fortune on that bet alone. And then you spent forty million Universal dollars to buy LunarSports Reports. Your war chest has to be low at this point.”

  The crowd of reporters fell silent, an icy chill hanging over the room. Zuna gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. “Media people make up whatever they need to in order to support their liberal agenda,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Lies. That’s why I bought LunarSports Reports, the only trustworthy media outlet. As of now, I’m revoking reporters’ press passes if they’re proven to be liars. So get out. And if I ever see you again . . .” He smoothed out his red jumpsuit before shooting glances at the Blackguards in the corners of the room. “Leave.”

  A low buzz went up in the audience. The Lunar Times reporter shriveled into his brown jumpsuit. Everyone else stared off in other directions, as if the guy didn’t exist. Finally, the reporter slowly got to his feet and left.

  Zuna stared down the rest of the room. “Now. Any other questions?”

  After a pause, a person in the back of the room, dressed in the blue jumpsuit of Taiko Colony, stood up in a show of defiance. “You can’t do that. Since when is the press censored?”

  “My press conference, my rules,” Zuna said. He motioned to the Blackguards, who quickly zeroed in on the man and lifted him off his feet.

  “Hey!” the man cried. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Your press pass is revoked, too,” Zuna said.

  The man struggled, protesting as the Blackguards hustled him out and carried him away.

  “Now,” Zuna said, “are there any other questions? Smart questions?”

  A LunarSports reporter got to his feet, glancing down to read off a cue card. “Mr. Zuna. Can you comment on the five Dark Siders now making up the Molemen’s roster? Do the Dark Siders pose a threat to our safety?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Zuna said. “Yes. What happened during last year’s Ultrabowl was an act of terrorism. The Dark Siders are extremely dangerous. They’re criminals. Felons. My people will be watching Wraith’s and her teammates’ every move. I will not allow terrorists to go unpunished.” He raised a fist, squeezing it tight. “The Council of Governors isn’t willing to do anything about it. But I am. I promise you that I will keep the moon safe. I will make the moon strong once again.”

  “But the Molemen are just Ultraball players,” a guy in a beige jumpsuit said. “Really good ones, too, considering how they upset the Miners today. You can’t really think all Dark Siders are terrorists . . .” He trailed off as Zuna motioned toward the Blackguards in the corners of the room. “Uh. Never mind.”

  “Since there are no more questions, I’ll end by saying that Neutron Nation will take home our fifth straight Ultrabowl title,” Zuna said. “We are that good. White Lightning will lead us to the promised land. That’s a guarantee. End of press conference.”

  The screen cut back to replays of the Neutrons’ game, White Lightning throwing a pass through a slingshot zone, the ball accelerating to a silver blur before slamming into Meltdown, cannonballing him across the goal line for a score.

  Inside the tram car, the Miners all looked at each other in silence. Finally, Pickaxe said, “What the frak is going on? Last time I checked, White Lightning was the butt of the league. Cut by the Shock, in disgrace. Now he’s the Neutrons’ quarterback?”

  “White Lightning is a joke,” Nugget said. “Zuna must be losing his mind.”

  Rock’s face was tense with concentration. “Zuna always has reasons for doing what he does. There must be something we’re missing.”

  Someone knocked at the tram door, waving through the window, holding up a souvenir. “Time to go sign some more autographs,” Pickaxe said. He grinned at TNT, giving him a friendly elbow to the ribs. “The fans all want a piece of me, the real star of the Taiko Miners.”

  Strike was glad for Pickaxe’s attempt to break the ice, to get the old TNT’s brash, funny side to show through. But TNT just nodded and pressed the button to open the tram door.

  Pickaxe shot a look at Strike and shrugged.

  The game had been over for two hours now, and despite the Miners losing, there was still a big crowd waiting for them. People at the front held out small rocks shaped like footballs, most of them elbowing their way to Strike, but many with their eye on TNT.

  Strike took a deep breath. Bringing home a championship would finally give Taiko Colony something to be proud of. But for the five Miners, it was life and death. A win would secure all their futures, with unlimited opportunities laid at their feet.

  If they failed . . .

  He jolted as a kid popped up by his side. “Uh. Hi. Do you remember me?” It was a scrawny girl, her arms and legs sticks.

  “Kind of,” Strike said, his brow furrowing. “Where do I know you from?”

  Rock pulled out his notebook, flipping through it. “Jasmine Tariq,” he said. “Torch’s little sister. After she got sick with dust poisoning last year, Torch sold some of our plays to Zuna in order to— Oof!” He held a hand over his ribs, where Strike had elbowed him.

  Strike and Jasmine looked at each other uneasily. Finally, she cleared her throat. “About what Torch did . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Strike said. “He did it for a good reason.”

  “No,” Jasmine said. “I can’t live with the guilt. I have to make it up to you. I’ll be your personal assistant. I’ll follow you around, do anything you need. I’ll clean waste recyclers. Dig field pits. Anything.”

  “Really, it’s okay,” Strike said. “Those plays didn’t even affect anything last year.”

  “Give me a chance,” Jasmine said, her hands clasped together. “Ask me to do something. Anything.”

  Strike looked over to Rock. �
��You need anything?”

  “Can you gather information about the Dark Siders on the Molemen’s roster?” Rock asked. “Not just their Ultraball skills and tactics, but if they might have ulterior motives, as Zuna claims.”

  Jasmine faltered for a long moment, but then she nodded. “I’m on it. I collected and analyzed statistics for the Flamethrowers back in the day. I was good at it, too. I’ll find out everything there is to know. You’ll see, Strike. I’m going to be the best personal assistant you ever had.”

  She made to run off, but Rock kept going. “I’d also like to know more about why the Neutrons replaced Fusion and Chain Reaction.”

  Jasmine paused. “Okay. I’ll see what I can—”

  “Speaking of the Neutrons, can you analyze their gameplay, identifying the weaknesses in their new defensive schemes?”

  “Seriously?” Jasmine said. “I’ll try, but—”

  “Give it a rest,” Strike said. “You can’t really expect her to analyze the Neutrons’ game.”

  “She’s Torch’s sister,” Rock said. “I would bet twenty hardtack bars that she knows a great deal about Ultraball.” He paged through his notebook. “That reminds me. I’ve always wanted to know more about how hardtack bars are produced, and why no one can make them taste good. Can you take a tram to New Beijing Colony and— Oof!” He held his side, where Strike had elbowed him again.

  “You better get going before he asks you for anything else,” Strike said to Jasmine.

  “You won’t regret this,” Jasmine said. “I’ll find out everything there is to know. About everything.” She raced away, zigzagging between fans, threading through the smallest of spaces.

  “Think she’ll actually find out anything useful?” Strike asked.

  “I’d bet everything that she does,” TNT said. “Making up for the past . . .” He bit his lip. “We’ll both make up for our pasts.” He motioned to the Ultraball tram. “Eight weeks left until the Ultrabowl. And just one week to prepare for our biggest game of the regular season. Come on. Enough with the autographs. Let’s go practice.”

  Strike nodded. In seven days, they’d have to face their rival Neutrons—at Neutron Stadium. He rubbed his left shoulder, wincing as phantom pains shot down the length of his arm.

  LunarSports Reports around the League

  MINERS TROUNCED IN EMBARRASSING UPSET

  By Aziz Chang, Executive Reporter

  The Miners were demolished by the league’s perennial cellar dwellers, the Molemen, in what should have been an easy win. Strike failed, allowing himself to be surprised by the Molemen’s completely new roster of Dark Siders. Many have questioned whether Strike is still the right person to be the Miners’ general manager. After still not clearing his name in connection with several crimes—including throwing last year’s Ultrabowl in a crooked betting scheme—he would be wise to take appropriate actions.

  Meanwhile, the North Pole Neutrons dominated the Tranquility Beatdown, annihilating them, 105–84. The Neutrons, unfazed by the two changes in their roster, are poised to take their unprecedented fifth Ultrabowl title in a row. White Lightning is even better at quarterback than Fusion, able to do what the old quarterback could do and much more—a shrewd, bold move by the team’s owner, Raiden Zuna. Additionally, the replacement of their former star rocketback, Chain Reaction, did not affect the Neutrons whatsoever. Meltdown stepped into the rocketback 1 role like a true hero, earning early consideration for league MVP. Raiden Zuna has the early edge for the General Manager of the Year award.

  White Lightning and Meltdown are the new faces of the North Pole Neutrons, and the future of Neutron Nation looks stellar. Already with a commanding lead in the season tiebreaker of total points scored, the Neutrons continue to reign unparalleled as the top dogs of the Underground Ultraball League. Raiden Zuna has done something no other team owner has ever done: guided his team to a grand dynasty that may very well last forever.

  In an exclusive interview with LunarSports Reports, Mr. Zuna commented on the win, the Neutrons’ outlook for the season, and more. “The North Pole Neutrons have never looked better,” he said. “This five-man roster outshines last year’s by a wide margin. No other team in the league stands a chance. The smart money—including mine—is on my Neutrons to win it all.”

  When asked about the Molemen and their new roster, Mr. Zuna said, “It’s unbelievable that the Underground Ultraball League is doing nothing, not even investigating them, considering the destructive act of terrorism taken by the last Dark Sider to play Ultraball. So it’s up to me. I will be investigating every one of them, especially their quarterback, Wraith. And I doubt that yesterday’s theft of nuclear reactor components from North Pole Colony was a coincidence. I will exact vengeance on anyone who dares to threaten the safety of the United Moon Colonies.”

  Rallies supporting Mr. Zuna’s calls for counterterrorism have taken place across the moon, in almost all twenty-one United Moon Colonies. According to the latest polls, 81 percent of citizens are calling Mr. Zuna a national hero for taking it upon himself to do what the Council of Governors will not.

  3

  The Earthfall Eight

  IT HAD BEEN months since Strike had been in Governor Katana’s office. The last time had not gone well. Right after the Ultrabowl, the governor of Taiko Colony had ordered Strike to appear, to explain why the Miners had been disqualified in Ultrabowl X. It had taken hours of stammering and bumbling through explanations for Strike to appease the governor. Even then, Katana hadn’t seemed convinced that the Miners were fully on the up-and-up.

  Now, Strike and Rock sat inside Governor Katana’s office, waiting for the most important person in Taiko Colony to speak. He had been staring at a handheld holoscreen for almost a minute since they had been shown into the room, and he still hadn’t said a word. Strike was captivated by the piece of high tech in the governor’s hands. After Earthfall, almost everyone in Taiko Colony had had to hock all their belongings, including their government-issued phones, just to pay for food and housing. The images dancing above the holoscreen were magical.

  Just as Strike was about to clear his throat and break the uncomfortable silence, Governor Katana tossed the device onto his desk. He pushed it forward. “What do you make of this?” he asked.

  Strike read the headline before exchanging a nervous glance with Rock. “LunarSports Reports makes up all sorts of crazy stuff.”

  “Problem is that people believe it.” The governor leaned back in his chair. “Even though the numbers they quoted are false—the Lunar Times’s poll had Zuna’s approval rating at sixty-one percent, not eighty-one percent—there is no doubt that he is gathering support.” He made air quotes and spoke in a mocking tone. “‘The only person brave enough to fight terrorism.’”

  “Boom wasn’t a terrorist,” Strike said. “She saved Taiko Colony.”

  Katana shrugged. “One thing I learned early in my career: the truth is what people believe it is.” He sat forward, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “What do you make of Wraith?”

  “She’s a great quarterback. And strategist.” He let out a long breath. “She surprised us yesterday.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Katana pursed his lips, considering his words. “Zuna’s accusations about her stealing nuclear weapon parts from North Pole Colony. Could they be true?”

  “No,” Strike said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” Katana shifted, narrowing his eyes. “Those components went missing out of a high-security facility. One of Zuna’s. Don’t you find it coincidental that Boom triggered the blackout during last year’s Ultrabowl with the help of components that she stole from Saladin Colony? History seems to be repeating itself.”

  Strike opened his mouth, but he had no idea how to deny the governor’s statements. Wraith could easily be up to something, just like Boom had been.

  The governor leaned back and collapsed into his chair, suddenly looking exhausted, wrinkles all over his age-spotted face. “Loo
k, Strike. I appreciate that you saved Taiko Colony and our underground ice deposits from falling into Zuna’s hands. I really do.” He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, taking a deep breath. “But Boom was trouble. Why couldn’t you have just won the Ultrabowl on your own? I lost a ton of money betting on the Miners. So did a lot of people in Taiko.”

  Strike spoke through gritted teeth. “I wanted to win more than anything. I thought we had it all wrapped up when—”

  The governor put up his hands. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought up the past. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is the future. Zuna is more powerful than ever now. Calling out Boom and Wraith as terrorists was a stroke of genius. He’s playing on people’s fears, and they’re eating up every word. Do you realize why he’s pushing for the Council of Governors to hit the Dark Siders with a tactical military strike?”

  “To get back at Boom, obviously,” Strike said.

  “Wrong,” Katana said. “To gain power. To gain support. If he can get hold of fourteen votes, he’ll be able to control the Council and do anything he wants. He’s closer than ever now.”

  Rock’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible,” he said. “He’s a criminal. He should be in jail.”

  “You have to accept reality,” Katana said. “That’s why I called you into my office today.” He stood up, coming around to the front of his desk and perching on it. Crossing his arms, he frowned. “The Council of Governors has been able to hold Zuna off, but it hasn’t been easy. I need help. From you.”

  “Me?” Strike said. “What can I do?”

  “What are the Dark Siders up to?” the governor asked. “Are they planning some sort of rebellion?”

  Strike tensed before he could stop himself. He tilted his head, trying to look confused. “How would I know?”

  “Don’t treat me like an imbecile,” Katana said. “You don’t have to tell me which Dark Siders you’re talking to. I just need to know if we can trust them. My informants have told me that Zuna is up to something. Something huge. Considering what Boom was able to pull off during last year’s Ultrabowl, the Dark Siders could be our greatest allies. But if they have their own hidden agenda, they could be our greatest threat.”