Bounders Page 16

  “Okay, here,” Cole says. “There’s an override, but it’s manual. It has to be done in the other cube. The cube where the chute is still connected.”

  “What has to be done?” I ask.

  “A switch.” He points to one of several switches mounted next to the control panel. “It reverses the suction of the departing chute. It’s a fail-safe for just this situation. But it has to be activated at the other cube.”

  “Why isn’t anyone doing it?” Meggi yells. “Why isn’t anyone getting him out?”

  Cole points to the blueprint. “I don’t know why, but the alarm isn’t sounding there. Probably no one knows there’s a malfunction.”

  My mind empties of everything except what I have to do. I step onto the grate for the departure chute. According to the blueprint and camera visual, it’s still intact.

  “What are you doing?” Annette asks. “This whole chute cube could be malfunctioning.”

  “Cole, see if you can sound the alarm on that end,” I say. “I’ll flip the switch when I get there.”

  Cole’s eyes widen. His face goes white. “You’re not . . . ?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” I say.

  Cole’s face hardens, and he nods. I push the activation button, and the familiar swirl of wind fills the cube.

  I’m sucked into the chute.

  I try to keep my mind blank. I can’t think about the fact that I’m soaring through a malfunctioning chute. I focus on my breath, keeping it slow and even, as I pick up speed.

  A loud noise fills the chute, and I’m slammed against the side. Bam! I’m flung against the other side. Bam! The chute’s come loose, just like the one Ryan is in.

  The suction holds. It pulls me through the chute as I whip back and forth.

  Finally a light appears ahead. The chute spits me out into the arrival trough. I jump up and search for the switch on the control panel. Alarms sound. Cole must have found the override.

  I flip the switch, and the cube hisses with suction. Shouts ring out from the hallway. Marco and a contingent of officers dash for the cube. I stare at the chute vent at the top of the cube.

  Ryan emerges headfirst. Somehow I manage to dive beneath him and break his fall. Good thing he’s small, or he would have crushed me. He’s unconscious, but I can tell from his ragged breathing he’s alive.

  Ridders lifts Ryan from my arms.

  “Are you okay, Jasper?” he asks.

  I nod and follow Ridders out of the cube. He takes off with Ryan for the med room while the other officers work to fix the chutes.

  Marco shakes his head as I slump toward him.

  “Dude,” he says, “you are one messed-up Bounder. You know that, right?”

  Meggi, Annette, and Cole race down the hall.

  “Are you all right? Is Ryan safe?” Meggi asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say, “and I think Ryan will be, too.”

  “What about you, girls?” Marco asks, staring straight at Meggi. “How are you?”

  Meggi moves her mouth, but no words come out.

  “Let’s go,” I say. “They’re waiting for us in the mess hall.”

  Lucy meets us at the door. Her glare freezes us in our tracks. “Where have you been?” When she sees Meggi and Annette, she fumes. “I thought you said it was a guy thing.”

  Mira hovers behind her, twirling her hair around her finger and bouncing on her toes.

  That’s weird. Usually Mira is on her own in the mess hall.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Lucy places her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. They posted the rankings.”

  15

  “OKAY,” I SAY, “THEY POSTED THE rankings and . . . ?”

  Regis and his pod head our way. We’re blocking the exit. Regis doesn’t change course. He walks directly toward me, stopping inches from my face. “Hope you enjoyed the med room, Jasper, because you’ll be seeing it again soon.”

  Marco takes a step closer. He has my back.

  “Is that a threat, Regis?” I say. “Because I’m scared. Real scared.”

  “You should be,” Regis says. He brushes my shoulder as he leads his pod out of the mess hall.

  As soon as he disappears from view, I spin back to Lucy. “What is going on?”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you went and picked a fight with Mr. Friendly over there. . . .”

  “I didn’t— Oh, never mind. Just tell us what’s up.”

  Lucy points to the rear of the mess hall. “The rankings are what’s up. As in, literally. They’re up. They’ve been posted.”

  I glance at the back of the room where the big white poster is plastered on the wall. “And?”

  “And we’re in first place,” she says.

  Marco, Cole, and I dash to the back wall of the mess hall. My jaw drops when I see the rankings. First place. Regis’s pod slid to third.

  “Now I get why Regis is mad,” I say.

  “Why everyone’s mad,” Lucy says.

  “Who can blame them?” Marco asks. “They got their butts kicked.”

  “Not like I helped,” Cole says.

  “Oh, stop the pity party,” Lucy hisses at Cole. “It’s not like any of us did much. It was all her.” Lucy turns, likely expecting Mira to be right behind her, but she isn’t. She must have slipped away while we were looking at the scores. “Well, great. She’s gone again. I’m thrilled she shot us up in the rankings, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s . . .” Lucy lets her words drop off.

  “A freak,” I say, “I know you were going to say it. Geez, Lucy, you’re no better than Regis.”

  “I didn’t say it, Jasper, thank you very much. And don’t you dare compare me to that vat of used ship grease. Plus, what word would you use?”

  “A girl, okay? A girl, like you. And a Bounder, like all of us.”

  Some cadets still shuffle out of the mess hall. A couple mutter weak congratulations. Others avert their eyes. A few glare. When they’ve cleared out, I spy Mira at her familiar perch by the porthole.

  “J-man, Lucy has a point.” Marco throws his arm over my shoulder. “We’ve pulled ahead, but the other pods will catch us. The only way to keep the lead is to show up as a pod. That means Mira needs to show up. Play by the rules. She’s our ace in the pocket for the bounds, no doubt, but we’ve got to get through to her. If they’re ever gonna take us seriously as a pod, we can’t have all the focus be on your flight high jinks and Mira’s flip-outs.”

  “Fine.” I don’t have the energy to fight about it. If they expect me to say something, I’ll just go do it. I turn and head for Mira’s table. “Come on,” I call over my shoulder. “We’re a pod, remember?”

  I pull out the chair next to Mira. The others take seats, too. They look at me. All of them. Well, all of them except Mira, who is the only person whose attention I need. She presses her fingers against the porthole, and the others press me with their glares. Who made me the spokesperson?

  This is going to be awkward. I close my eyes and try to remember the tact Addy uses when she explains things to me she thinks are painfully obvious.

  “Listen, Mira,” I say. “We’re top in the rankings, thanks to you. I don’t know how you do that magic with the gloves, but I think it’s awesome”—remember the pod—“we all think it’s awesome.” I look back at the others, hoping someone will jump in.

  “He’s right. We do,” Lucy says, and nods at me to go on.

  Gee, Lucy, thanks for the help. Never could have done it without you.

  “Anyhow,” I continue, “what I’m trying to say is, you need to pull it together a little more. You know, during Mobility and in the dorm. Even here in the mess hall. We really need you to act more like a team player. For the pod.”

  Mira doesn’t move. Her right hand is splayed against the window; her left dangles loosely by her side. She gives no sign she’s even heard me.

  My mind flips back through all our encounters. I remember guidi
ng Mira into the hall after our first pod meeting. How I took her hand and somehow she made me feel strong and safe.

  The last thing I want to do in front of everyone is hold Mira’s hand, but I’m not coming up with any other strokes of genius. I wipe my palms against my uniform pants and reach with my right hand for Mira’s left. I gather up her fingers and awkwardly thread them with my own. I keep our hands beneath the table. If the others see, at least they’re nice enough not to say anything.

  “Mira, you’re part of our pod. We’re glad you’re part of our pod. But you need to start acting like it. Do you understand?”

  I stare at her, and the weight of everyone else’s stares cuts a hole in the back of my skull. Mira’s hand lies limp in mine. Then, ever so slowly, her fingers curl and press against the back of my knuckles. Her right hand drops from the porthole, and she turns to face us. Her murky eyes slip across the table until they lock with mine and come into focus.

  Mira dips her chin. A nod, maybe?

  Good enough.

  The good news: I managed to get through to Mira. It helped that Lucy convinced Waters we needed the security alarms turned off in the cadet dormitories so Mira could go to the music room without waking everyone up. There was never a big formal announcement about the alarms, but we knew he worked it out. Marco checked the boys’ dorm to see if the alarms had been deactivated there, too. He slid out into the hall and back in one night. I braced for the alarm, but nothing happened. The next week Mira flew during blast pack practice, rode the chutes with us to pod session, and even sat with us in the mess hall. We held the lead in the rankings for the next post.

  The bad news: my flight skills barely improved. We always placed in the bottom half in the relay. Some of the other cadets struggled, too, but I was the worst.

  Even though we’ve been first-place pod in the rankings for two weeks in a row, the other pods have to be creeping up. Everyone’s percentages are improving. Mira’s perfect score is not as much of an outlier anymore. Marco and I both cleared 75 percent. Unless I get my act together with the blast pack, we’ll be passed for sure.

  No matter what I try, I can’t get the hang of the pack’s control straps. My brain knows where it wants to go, but something gets messed up in translation.

  And Regis won’t let me forget. Not even for a millisecond.

  I’m thinking it all through as I lie on the hangar floor, staring up at the crossbeams, watching the other cadets zoom by in their packs. I just took out half a dozen empty barrels in my last practice pass at the relay course.

  Regis flies low and hovers right above where I’m sprawled on the ground, trying to heave one of the barrels off my leg. “No words,” he says. “I have no words for how awesome it is to watch you fly.”

  I manage to heft the barrel off me. Regis kicks over another that lands on my stomach.

  “I’m finally starting to understand it.” Regis has a sinister smile on his face. Whatever he finally understands is going to be a real treat.

  “What?” I should keep my mouth shut, but I stink at that.

  “I couldn’t figure out how a klutz like you could be in the first-ranked pod,” Regis says. “But now it’s all coming together. See, I was right. There’s no way you and Dancing Queen are in the best bounding pod. It just doesn’t make sense. The pod leaders rigged the last two rankings. They’ve fluffed up your scores to make the rest of us try to chase you.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say.

  Regis lands on the hangar floor and stands over me. “My only question is, are you in on it? Or are you stupid enough to think you’re winning for real?”

  “Shut up, Regis,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Regis laughs. “Oh, I think I do.” He soars off for the finish line.

  I try my best not to let Regis get to me. It’s easiest when we’re practicing in the Ezone or hanging in the pod room. I wish all Academy classes were taught in pods. It’s the one place I can relax and be myself.

  Marco and I wait for Cole after pod session. He stayed late to talk to Gedney. When he steps out of the room, he has a ginormous smile on his face.

  “What’s with you, Wiki?” Marco asks.

  “Gedney helped me figure something out.”

  “What?” I ask. “You’re all lit up like a firecracker.”

  “It’s a surprise,” Cole says. “I’ll show you when we get back to the dorm.”

  We have half an hour to kill before mess hall. I planned to use the time studying for the Technology quiz, but with Cole all fired up, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting much studying in.

  As soon as we make it to the dorm, Cole grabs a seat at the center table. The dorm is maybe half full; about twenty-five cadets mill around. Cole flips his tablet face up and activates projection mode.

  Instantly a military formation shows in the air space above the tablet.

  No way. “Evolution?” I say.

  Marco leans against the table. “Hack Man, you’ve outdone yourself!”

  Cole grins as he manipulates his men in the projection. “No hacking. The Gadget Guru helped me out with this.”

  “But how is that possible?” I ask. “I thought all external communications were disabled and banned. You can’t play Evolution without access to the webs.”

  “True,” Cole says, “unless it’s in beta mode.” Cole explains that Gedney downloaded the beta version of Evolution of Combat onto his tablet for free play. Since Cole’s tablet is the host, anyone can join the game via their tablets automatically.

  “Genius!” Marco says. “Dude, what level is this?”

  “World War Two,” Cole says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his WWII figure. He places it on the table with his scimitar-wielding Crusades figure.

  “Of course the Hack Man is a game master,” Marco says. “That’s incredible!”

  Cole checks his health points and stockpile. He rearranges the force formation and subs in some new majors. I study his strategy. It’s impressive. He’s playing a long game, but it looks like he’ll take the battle, too. He really is an Evolution genius.

  I pull my tablet from my pack and link with Cole’s game. He assigns me two captains and explains the offensive. Marco straddles the chair on the other side of Cole and joins as a captain of an amphibious unit.

  Before long all the cadets in the dorm sit at the table with their tablets. Cole directs the advance, and we storm the beach at Normandy. Our offensive line stretches the entire length of the dormitory table. Our soldiers dash for the beaches. I can almost feel the spritz of water from the raging waves and the give of sand against my feet.

  For the first time in weeks I don’t feel the pod divisions. I don’t remember how much I suck at the blast pack. I don’t think about the alien behind the occludium shield.

  We’re just a bunch of guys playing Evolution. And we kick butt.

  “Do you know what they’re saying?” Lucy asks when we drop our trays down at dinner.

  Oh no. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly what they’re saying.

  “I’ll tell you,” she says.

  Of course you will, Lucy.

  “They’re saying it’s rigged. They’re saying we’re really in last place. They say some of us have the lowest Ezone percentages in the whole Academy. Can you believe that? We’ve got to do something.”

  “Wait,” Cole says. “Who’s saying that?”

  Marco looks up from his tablet. Even Mira shifts her weight in Lucy’s direction.

  “Everybody,” Lucy says. “I heard it from at least five different girls in the dorm. Even Meggi and Annette are starting to believe it.”

  Marco shrugs and looks down at his tablet. “Who cares? It’s not true.”

  “I care,” Lucy says. “I thought we were going to do something about this. You know, start acting like a real pod so they’d take us seriously.”

  “What if they’re right?” Cole says. “My percentages might be the lowest.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, please,” Lucy says. “You hear only the part of a sentence that pertains to you, Cole. Or, in this case, doesn’t pertain to you but you think does because you’re half delusional and completely self-centered. Your percentages are climbing. You’re not the worst. You’re just the worst in our pod.”

  “Gee, that’s comforting,” Cole says. “Thanks.”

  As they bicker, a great weight forms in my chest, like someone enclosed my lungs in an iron cage. This is my fault. We’ve been so focused on Mira, we haven’t bothered to admit the obvious. My complete failure at flying combined with Regis’s grudge against me has doomed the pod. They’d be better off without me.

  They’re still fighting, but I tune them out. When Lucy’s midsentence, I stand.

  “Look,” I say in a too-loud voice, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve tried to work on my flying, but I just suck. Live with it.”

  Lucy calls out to me as I rush to the dishwasher to drop off my tray, but I don’t look back. I’ve got to get out of here. Unfortunately, that’s not really an option on a space station. The lights hum, and the walls close in around me as I follow the sensor stripe to the dormitory and the small comfort of my bunk.

  The bunks hum with snores. Thank goodness. This day couldn’t have ended fast enough. They posted the rankings right after dinner. Cole and Marco filled me in when they returned to the dorm. We’ve slipped to fourth place. Regis and his minions hounded me right up until curfew. I camped out in my bunk, my nose in my tablet, betting they’d eventually get tired of teasing a nonresponsive bump on the bed. When I wouldn’t take their bait, they harassed Cole, who was so down about his Ezone percentages, he was probably having nightmares that everything Regis said was true. At least they left Marco alone. And, hopefully, the girls fared okay. Mira’s oddities are old news, and Lucy can hold her own.

  I count the minutes after lights-out until almost an hour has passed. That’s long enough. Everyone should be asleep. I slip the case from my bunk frame. The leather gives against the press of my thumb, and the metal clasp is cool. I flip open the top and peek inside. The sheen of my clarinet reflects the dim light of the night runners. As I slide my fingers across the dark wood, I shiver. It’s the same feeling I have when Mom makes chocolate chip cookies. The high starts before the first taste.